Читать книгу: «The Unwanted Conti Bride»

TARA PAMMI can’t remember a moment when she wasn’t lost in a book—especially a romance, which was much more exciting than a mathematics textbook at school. Years later, Tara’s wild imagination and love for the written word revealed what she really wanted to do. Now she pairs alpha males who think they know everything with strong women who knock that theory and them off their feet!

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

COVER

INTRODUCTION

The Legendary Conti Brothers

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

TONIGHT, SOPHIA ROSSI decided with mounting desperation, her spirit animal would be a skunk.

Because desperation had a particularly pungent stink. It probably clung to her pores, spraying whiffs of it over pitying and curious bystanders, betraying her panic.

She had never belonged in the uber-rich Milanese society that her stepfather and mother dwelled in, was only a Rossi because Salvatore had adopted her after marrying her mother when Sophia had been thirteen. Facts of her life she’d never been allowed to forget by the crowd around her.

She’d somehow weathered the end of her engagement to Leandro Conti.

But this latest rumor—her supposed affair with her one real friend, Kairos Constantinou, who was Leandro’s sister’s new husband—had made her an object of gossip and even malice. If she’d known what a spectacle it made of her, she’d have refused Leandro’s invite to his brother Luca’s birthday party, which had been extended weeks ago. The invite was only driven by his guilt at breaking their engagement.

Her fingers tightening over the fragile champagne flute, she made a casual, painted-smile-in-place round around the curving, wide balcony of the Villa de Conti.

Somehow they’d made her into this temperamental shrew, this marriage-wrecking wanton that had become a liability to her family rather than an asset.

How had she, despite all her hard work, jeopardized the most important goal of her life—to support her stepfather, Salvatore, and rebuild Rossi Leather until her half brothers were old enough to take over?

Antonio Conti, the patriarch of the Conti family, reached her just as Sophia deflected another barbed insult. Glassy and brittle it might be, but she didn’t let the smile drop from her face.

Silver threaded abundantly through his black hair. Antonio reminded her of a wolf—cunning, wily and quick to gobble up unsuspecting prey.

“Tell me, Sophia,” he said, neatly cornering her near a white pillar, “whose idea was it to propose a marriage between my grandson and you?”

Swallowing her shock, Sophia stared at him. No one should have even guessed. “Our engagement is irrelevant now that Leandro is married.”

“Your stepfather is ambitious but not clever,” Antonio continued as if Sophia hadn’t even spoken. “Hardworking but no vision. Even knowing of my desperation to find a bride for my grandsons, Salvatore would have never thought to offer you.

“He has no use for women.”

The words were curt, even cruel in their efficient summation. But true.

Sophia had been trying for a decade to get Sal to see the value she could provide for the company, with zero progress. He gave her small projects, refused to listen to her ideas for Rossi Leather.

All he cared about was leaving a legacy for her half brothers, Bruno and Carlo.

“It was mine,” she admitted. What did she have to lose at this point? “There was advantage to your family and mine in that match.”

Sal could hold grudges on Leandro Conti and the Conti family for breaking the engagement, but Sophia was nothing if not practical.

Rossi Leather couldn’t tide over their latest financial setback by alienating the powerful Contis. Antonio still held much sway over the older generation in the leather industry and Leandro Conti, his eldest grandson and CEO of Conti Luxury Goods, held the younger, more heated generation.

Antonio’s second grandson, Luca Conti, however...had no clout or morals. Probably no talent. Just oodles of charm, sexuality and utter self-indulgence.

Even thinking about him made her cross. And bitter. And her knees weak.

She’d spent nights pacing her bedroom, sleepless, panicky, when the idea of marrying Leandro had presented itself to her. She’d made herself sick. She’d had nightmares about her past and present morphing into a distasteful, torturous future.

But the welfare of her family had precedence over naive decade-old dreams.

Antonio didn’t look surprised. But then he’d known to ask that question, hadn’t he? His silvery brows rose. “You’re a curiously resourceful young woman, Sophia.”

Sophia’s cheeks heated up. “Even for a half-Italian bastard girl with a broken engagement behind her, you mean?”

He continued looking at her.

If she hadn’t lost her finer sensibilities a long time ago, if she hadn’t developed elephant-thick skin, she’d have been insulted by the purely assessing look the old man cast her, from the top of her dark hair in an efficient knot to the soles of her black Conti pumps, her only nod to fashion, with leisurely stops at her face and several other areas of her body.

“I’m not a cow to be assessed,” she added with a glare. The flash of something in his gaze gave her the creeps. “I’m not in the market for an alliance anymore, either.” There was only so much she could stomach, apparently, even for her family. “Of any kind,” she added for good measure.

Amusement shifted the rigid lines of his face. Flashes of a similar set of features sent a flutter down her spine. “You’re not only dedicated to your family but you’re also sharp and fearless. I like you, Sophia.”

Rarely did the opposite sex, except for her ten-year old brothers, say something that wasn’t condescending or insulting to her. “I wish I could say the same. But I’ve seen you use everyone’s shortcomings to your own advantage, including Sal’s.”

His smile lingered. “Then why not advise your stepfather?”

She remained silent, frustration a quiet snarl inside her. Because Sal never listened to her. He loved her, but not enough to trust her judgment or intelligence when it came to Rossi Leather. All of which she was aware the cunning wolf knew.

“I can give you a way to help Salvatore, Sophia. Without throwing yourself at a married man.”

Stinging anger burned Sophia’s cheeks but she stayed still. He’d baited her well and he knew it. She was going to throttle whoever had started that distasteful rumor.

“I will pour capital into Salvatore’s business,” Antonio continued, “create new contracts for him, bring him back into the old class, so to speak. After his string of poor business decisions, he certainly needs the help.”

“I’m not for sale,” Sophia retorted, a slow panic building inside. She felt like a donkey with a carrot visible but just out of reach. “I suggested marriage to Leandro as a way to help Sal, but I’d have kept every vow I made to him. I would’ve been a good wife.”

“You believe I did not realize that? You believe I would let Salvatore...persuade me into letting you marry my grandson without learning all about you? It is exactly why I make this proposal.”

Her pulse sped up. “What is your proposal?” she forced herself to say.

“I do have another grandson, si? Bring Luca to the altar, marry him and I will take a firm handle on Rossi financial matters. Your mother, your brothers, their futures will never be in peril.”

“No!” Her sharp reply turned heads toward them.

Marry Luca, the Conti Devil?

The very idea was like walking on shards of glass for the rest of her life. Bare feet and with a lead weight over her head. “I don’t want to spend an evening with the Conti Devil, much less marry him.”

As though invoked by their discussion, Luca Conti appeared in the midst of the perfectly manicured lawn before them, a tall, gorgeous blonde following him like a faithful puppy.

A woman on his arm, as always.

The rage in those languid, smoky eyes the night of her engagement to his brother had haunted her. But he’d avoided her as she’d done for a decade.

His dark, wavy hair was in that same stylish cut. Low on the sides and piled high on his head, making his angular face even narrower. Sophistication and grace oozed from his every stride. But any kind of austerity ended with his hair.

Because Luca Conti was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

His face, now visible only in flashes as he moved through the crowd with that loose-limbed stride had such perfect lines that her breath caught even from this distance.

Broad shoulders lovingly hugged by gray silk, narrowing to a tapered waist and muscular thighs honed to pure steel by hours and hours of swimming. He moved sinuously through the crowd, the tall woman a beautiful accessory around his lean and wiry body, a little on the thin side.

But who could remember all that after one glance at his face?

Wide-set, jet-black eyes, with dark blue smudges underneath, always the shadows underneath his eyes as if the man never slept, a steel blade of a nose and a wide mouth made of plump, lush lips that invited one, two...oh, a hundred glances.

Collagen had nothing on this man’s mouth...

A mouth that invited sin with one word... A mouth he knew how to use every which way...

Sharp cheekbones created planes and grooves, in concert with the high forehead, as if every inch of it had been painstakingly designed and carved to render him breathtaking.

Those features should have been effeminate, too beautiful, yet something in his gaze, in his will, immediately imposed his fierce masculinity on the onlooker, as if the space around him had to become an extension of him.

And the devil was aware of his exquisite beauty, and the effect it had on the female sex, whether they were seventeen or seventy.

It was clear, from even up there, that Luca was sloshed if not drunk and so was the disreputable beauty, who also happened to be the Italian Finance minister’s almost ex-wife, Mariana.

Had she thrown away her powerful husband for Luca? Did she know that Luca would dispose of her like a toddler did last week’s toys?

Sophia could almost, only almost, feel pity for the woman.

The hiss of a curse falling from Antonio’s mouth by her side punctured her obsessively greedy perusal.

Luca, as usual, was creating a ruckus. Heads turned toward him, including Kairos and Valentina. A stiff-lipped Leandro cast a hand on Luca to stop him but his younger brother pushed it away.

Whispers abounded, like the drone of insects.

As indulgent as his family and friends were of his usual escapades, it seemed an open lovers’ spat—for Luca and the lady’s argument was becoming clear now—with another man’s wife was too scandalous for them to overlook.

“This is the man you want me to wed? The man who shamelessly shows off his affair with another man’s wife with no thought to his family or hers? The man who thinks every woman is a challenge to be conquered, a bet to win?” The memory of her own humiliation at his hands was like acid in her throat. “One who tramples hearts like they were little pieces of glass? I wouldn’t touch Luca if he were the last man on earth.”

Antonio turned toward her slowly, as if that small movement cost him a great effort. One look into his eyes and Sophia knew he was going in for the kill. Now she was the deer caught in the wolf’s sights.

“Are you aware, Sophia, that the bank is ready to call Salvatore’s loan in? Or that he has no way to meet the next production per schedule?”

Her heart sank to her toes. “That’s not true. He applied for an extension—”

“And was denied.”

Sunken eyes peered at her with a cunning that sent chills down her spine. He’d done this, she knew.

Oh, Salvatore had paved the way to their financial ruin with his own faulty decisions but this latest setback—the bank’s refusal for an extension—was Antonio’s doing.

Apparently, Antonio was just as desperate as she was. “Even if I were to agree to your outrageous proposal—” her entire life tied to that reckless playboy who had made her so weak once “—how do you think I can accomplish this? Even I, desperate that I am, can’t drag a man to the altar. And definitely not the Conti Devil, who cares for nothing except his own pursuits.”

Drunk as he was, Luca had somehow managed to steer the clinging woman away from the crowd. But her husky laughter and frantic begging in Italian could be heard from where they were standing, behind and beneath the balcony.

Heat tightened Sophia’s cheeks as she understood the gist of the woman’s phrases in Italian. Instead of distaste and fury, she felt pity.

The woman was in love with Luca.

Antonio dragged his gaze away from Luca, his mouth a tight line. His frail body seemed to vibrate with distaste, rage and, Sophia sensed with mounting shock, grief. Antonio Conti was grief-stricken over his grandson Luca. Why?

The image of the manipulative old man shifted in her mind, even as he took a deep breath, as if to push away the emotion. “No, my grandson cares for nothing in this world. His parents are long dead and Leandro, too, has washed his hands of Luca now.

“But to protect Valentina and her happiness, Luca will do anything. He will make a bargain with anyone to keep her birth a secret from the world.”

Sophia gasped, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Her birth? This is not right. I want no part of it—”

“Valentina is not my son’s daughter. She is the product of an affair their mother had with her driver. And if this comes out, it will ruin Valentina’s standing in society and even her marriage to your friend Kairos.

“So use it to bind Luca to you. He will bend for Valentina’s happiness.”

No words came to her as Sophia stared at Antonio.

The idea of blackmailing the Conti Devil didn’t bother her so much as using Valentina’s secret. Dear God, she didn’t want to hurt anyone.

An acidic taste lingered in her mouth. “There are too many innocent people involved in this. I won’t hurt one of them just because—”

“Just because Salvatore might lose the company? Just because your mother and brothers might have to leave their estate, give up their cars, their place in this society? And what will you do, Sophia? Take up the project manager job your Greek friend offers you to support them? Quietly stand by as Salvatore watches chunks of his company broken down and auctioned off?”

“Why me? Why can’t you find a willing woman and force him to marry her? Why—”

“Because you’re tough and you do what needs to be done. You don’t have silly ideas of love in your head. Only you will do for the Conti Devil.”

* * *

Only you...

Antonio Conti’s words reverberated through Sophia.

Oh, how she wished she’d not come tonight... Now she had a possible way to dig their finances out of the ruin but it would only be achieved by selling her soul to the devil...

She wasn’t considering it, Sophia told herself, as she walked through the unending corridor of Villa de Conti. The black-and-white-checkered floor gave the mounting nausea within a physical bent.

Surely Antonio deluded himself that his devil-may-care, womanizing grandson could care about his sister. But she had to try. She had to see if there was a chance of salvaging their finances, if there was even a small sliver of hope that her mother, Salvatore and the twins wouldn’t be driven to the road.

She reached a wide, circular veranda at the back of the villa.

Jacket discarded, shirt open to reveal a dark olive chest, cuffs folded back, Luca stood leaning against the wall. A foot propped up against it, eyes closed, face turned to the sky. The curving shadows his long eyelashes cast on his cheekbones were like scythes.

Scythes and blades. Her usually nonviolent thoughts revolved around weapons when it came to Luca.

Moonlight caressed the planes of his face, shadows diluting the magnificent symmetry of his features. Rendering him a little less gorgeous.

A little less captivating.

A little less devilish.

Almost vulnerable and...strangely lonely.

Slowly, Sophia became aware of her own reaction. Damp palms. Skittering heartbeat. Pit in her stomach. Even after a decade, her body went into some kind of meltdown mode near him.

She must have made a sound because his eyes opened slowly. Only his eyes were visible in the silvery light. They fell on her, widened for an infinitesimal fraction of a second, searched her face and then assumed that laid-back, casual, infuriatingly annoying expression that she hated.

“Sophia Rossi, of steel balls and tough skin and icy heart.” Whatever alcohol he’d imbibed, his speech didn’t slur. Mocking and precise, it arrowed past her defenses. “Did you lose your way, cara?”

His sultry voice thickened the air around them so much that Sophia wondered if she could breathe through it. “Stop calling me...” No, that was way too personal. If she was going to do this, Sophia had to enclose herself in steel, lock away even the slightest vulnerability she had, not that she had any. She’d do this for her family, but she wasn’t going to be the Conti Devil’s amusement. Not this time.

He pushed himself from the wall while she formed and disposed words. When she looked up again, he’d moved close enough for her to smell the crisply masculine scent of him. The light from the hall caressed his features.

Breath was lost. Nerves fluttered. A sigh built and ballooned inside her chest. That small scar under his chin. The sweeping arch of his eyebrows. The razor-sharp lines of his cheekbones. Darkly angelic features that masked a cruel devil.

Jet-black eyes glinted with sardonic amusement at her mute appraisal. He propped a bent hand on the wall she was leaning against, sticking his other hip out. A pose full of grace and languor. Of feigned interest and wretched playfulness. “Tell me, how did you end up in the farthest reaches of the house, away from all the wheelings and dealings of your business friends? Did Little Bo Peep lose track of her sheep and wander into big bad wolf’s way?”

Sophia tried to command every cell in her body to keep it together, wrenched herself into a tight ball so that all that touched her was the man’s whispery breath. “You’re getting your fairy tales mixed up.”

“But my point got through to you, si?” He ran the heel of his hand over his tired-looking eyes while Sophia stared hungrily, cataloging every gesture, every shift. “What do you want, Sophia?”

“Your...situation looked like it needed rescuing.”

The slight tug of his mouth transformed into that full-blown grin that always seemed to be waiting for an invite. Evenly set teeth gleamed in an altogether wicked face. “Ahh...and so Sophia Rossi, the righteous and the pure, decided to come to my aid.”

“Where is your lover? I can have one of our chauffeurs drive her home.”

His gaze held hers, a thousand whispers in it. “She’s in my bed, thoroughly lost to the world.” It dipped to her mouth. Snaky tendrils of heat erupted over her skin. “I believe I wore her out.”

Nausea hit Sophia with the force of a gardening hose, the images of a sweaty and ravished Mariana burning her retinas as if she could see the leggy blonde amidst a cloud of soft, white sheets.

Luca’s bedroom—pure white sheets, gleaming black marble, black-and-white portraits all around... It was like being transported into your worst nightmare and your darkest fantasy, all rolled into one. While being naked and blindfolded and without any defense.

She let all the disgust she felt seep to the surface and stepped back.

“Don’t you think this is too far even for you? They are not even divorced yet. And you’re advertising it for all and sundry to see.”

“But that’s the fun, si? Tangling with the dangerous? Riling up her husband into one of his awful tempers?”

“And then you walk away?” Like you did from me. “Her life will be in ruins in terms of the society, while you latch on to the next willing v—”

His mouth curved into a snarl and his hand covered her mouth. Opal fire burned in his eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself, cara? That you were a victim all those years ago? Have you convinced yourself that I forced you?”

She pushed away his hand and glared at him, all the while pretending that her lips still didn’t tingle from the heat of his touch. That she didn’t burn at the memory... “I didn’t mean that you take them without their... Damn it, Luca, you and I both know he will ruin her over this.”

“Maybe ruin is exactly what Mariana wants. Maybe to be utterly debauched by me is her only salvation.” The words were silky, casual, and yet...for the first time in her life, Sophia saw more than the hauntingly beautiful face, the wicked grin, even the seductive charm. “You would not understand her, Sophia.”

“I just don’t think—”

Sophia watched that lazy face swallow away that fury, saw the emotion blank out of his eyes as easily as if someone had taken an eraser and wiped it away. “I don’t give a damn about your opinions, so, per carita, stop expressing them.” He bent toward her, diminutive as she was to his own lean six-two. “What is it that suddenly interests you about me, Sophia? Have you finally decided you need another orgasm to sustain you for the next decade?”

Flames scorched her skin; that was how hot she felt. Yes floated to her lips, as if every cell in her had conspired to form that word without her permission.

This was easy for him, too easy—riling her up, sinking under her skin. Even knowing what he was, still she reacted like a moth venturing to a flame. “Not everything has to have a sexual connotation in life.”

“Says the woman who needs to be utterly and thoroughly—”

This time her hand clamped his mouth. Sophia glared at him. His breath kissed her sensitive palm.

Long, elegant fingers traced the tender skin of her wrists, leaving brands on her sensitive flesh. Slowly, as if savoring every second of touching her, he pulled her hand. “What did you think I was going to say, Sophia?”

She pursed her mouth and took a deep breath. “I have a proposal I’d like to make to you, one that is mutually beneficial.”

“There is nothing that you can offer me—” his gaze flicked over her, dismissal and insult in that look “—that I won’t get from another woman, Sophia.”

“You haven’t even heard it.”

“Not interested—”

“I want to marry you.”