The Virgin's Sicilian Protector

by Chantelle Shaw

  He shook his head, his gaze riveted to her face. ‘Gina said that her pregnancy is progressing fine when I spoke to her an hour ago. She told me that I’m an idiot, but I already knew that.’ He halted in front of her and raked his hair off his brow with an unsteady hand. ‘The fact that you can show so much compassion after everything I have done is proof, if I needed it, that I am the greatest fool in the world.’

  He did not really look terrible, of course, she acknowledged as she raked her eyes greedily over him. He looked dangerously gorgeous in faded jeans, a black sweater and the leather jacket that she loved almost as much as him. Arianna looked away from him and released her breath slowly. ‘I don’t understand, and to be honest I don’t really want to. I’d like you to leave.’

  Something almost desperate flashed across his hard features. ‘Will you at least listen to me? And then you can throw me out if you want. God knows, it’s nothing more than I deserve.’

  Stupid tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away angrily. ‘Did my father give you shares in Fitzgerald Design to persuade you to be my bodyguard?’

  He held her gaze unflinchingly. ‘Yes.’

  She choked back a sob, devastated anew by his betrayal. ‘You should have told me when I applied to Tiger Investments for funding for my fashion label. You knew how important it was to me that Anna was in no way linked to my father.’

  ‘I didn’t keep the shares,’ he said quietly. ‘Initially they were paid into Tiger Investments’ accounts but I transferred them over to the charity I set up to help ex-servicemen train for new careers. No link exists between your fashion company, my investment company and your father, and I have given a statement to the press to that effect.’

  ‘You know what some journalists are like. They would love to see me fail,’ she said bitterly. ‘They won’t believe that the clothes in the Anna brand are entirely my designs, and they’ll think that my father must have something to do with my company.’

  ‘The fashion editors I spoke to after your presentation at London Fashion Week were in raptures over your work.’

  She stared at him. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I was there. Of course I was there,’ he said softly. ‘I was so proud of you this evening, Arianna. You are incredibly talented and you work damned hard. You deserve to be the huge success that I am confident you will be.’

  His praise only made her heart ache even more. ‘If you were at the fashion show why didn’t you come and join me? I wouldn’t have had the chance to take part in the show if you hadn’t invested in my business.’

  ‘Tonight was your night and I wanted you to enjoy the acclaim.’ He hesitated and a nerve in his cheek flickered. ‘I was scared to approach you in case you told me to go to hell,’ he said roughly. ‘I am a coward as well as a fool, and I couldn’t face the possibility that I might have driven you away for good.’

  ‘I thought that was the plan. You wanted to drive me away.’ She couldn’t hold herself together. Seeing Santino again was tearing her apart and a tear slid down her cheek. ‘You could not have made it any clearer that you don’t feel anything for me,’ she whispered.

  ‘I love you.’

  Another tear slipped down her cheek, and another, and another. She didn’t know what hurt most—his lie, for it must be a lie, or the terrible darkness in his eyes that made her think, made her hope, that he actually meant it.

  ‘You don’t do love.’ She threw the words he had said to her back at him. ‘You want to go through life untouched by emotions, unloving and unloved.’

  ‘I love you,’ he repeated, his voice thick, as if his throat was constricted. His eyes were fiercely bright and her heart stopped when she saw that his lashes were wet. ‘I know what I said, and for a long time it was true. I didn’t want to feel the level of emotions that had destroyed my father. But then I met you, Arianna.’

  His hand shook as he reached out and brushed a stray curl back from her face. ‘The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I took one look at you and my wonderfully ordered, controlled existence was blown apart. You infuriated me with your defiance and captivated me with your loveliness, which I quickly discovered is much more than skin-deep. You are beautiful all the way down to your compassionate heart.’

  Her mouth trembled. ‘How can I believe you? You sent me away—twice. You broke my heart, Santino. I spent most of my life wishing that my father would love me and it nearly broke me. I can’t do that again.’ She scrubbed her wet eyes with the back of her hand. ‘If you can’t love me the way I want to be loved, the way I love you, then I’m better off without you.’

  ‘Tesoro mio—’ His voice cracked. ‘If you give me the chance, I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. You are everything, Arianna—’ he swallowed convulsively ‘—and without you I am nothing.’

  Hope unfurled inside her, a tentative happiness that she wondered if she could dare to believe in. ‘Truthfully, you love me?’ she whispered.

  ‘Perhaps this will convince you.’ He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Her heart juddered to a halt when he opened it to reveal an exquisite cluster of diamonds set on a white-gold band. ‘I had better do this properly so that you can tell our grandchildren the story of when I proposed,’ he murmured as he dropped down onto one knee.

  ‘Santino,’ she said faintly.

  ‘Will you marry me, Arianna? Will you have my babies, and will you love me for ever, as I will always love you?’

  More tears slipped down her cheeks, but they were tears of joy as she looked into his eyes and saw the blaze of emotions in his glittering green gaze. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Say yes, cara mia,’ he pleaded, ‘and make me the happiest man in the world.’

  Arianna smiled and heard him catch his breath. ‘Yes,’ she said softly, holding out a trembling hand for him to slide the engagement ring onto her finger.

  ‘I said you should always wear diamonds, and now you always will,’ he murmured as he stood up and drew her into his arms. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that stirred her soul with its tender devotion.

  ‘I love you.’ She looped her arms around his neck as he lifted her off her feet. ‘I think you should make love to me right now.’

  Santino’s soft laugh was husky and hesitant, as if he too could not quite believe that love was theirs for the taking, theirs for all time. ‘Try and stop me, baby,’ he murmured against her lips. And then he worshipped her with his body so beautifully, so lovingly, that Arianna discovered fairy tales could come true.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed The Virgin’s Sicilian Protector you’re sure to enjoy these other Chantelle Shaw stories!

  The Throne He Must Take

  The Secret He Must Claim

  Hired for Romano’s Pleasure

  Wed for His Secret Heir

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Italian’s Inherited Mistress by Lynne Graham.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Presents title.

  You want alpha males, decadent glamour and jet-set lifestyles. Step into the sensational, sophisticated world of Harlequin Presents, where sinfully tempting heroes ignite a fierce and wickedly irresistible passion!

  Enjoy eight new stories from Harlequin Presents every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com
/>
  Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!

  Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.

  Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice

  OR

  EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.

  Click here to join for FREE

  Or visit us online to register at

  www.HarlequinMyRewards.com

  Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.

  The Italian’s Inherited Mistress

  by Lynne Graham

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE... I don’t believe it!’ Alissandru Rossetti erupted from his chair in the midst of the reading of his brother’s will, rigid with outraged disbelief. ‘Why tjhe hell would Paulu leave that little slut anything?’ he demanded of the room at large.

  Fortunately, his mother, Constantia, and the family lawyer, Marco Morelli, were the only parties present because all attempts to contact the main beneficiary of the will had proved fruitless. Disconcerted by that revealing word, ‘main’, Alissandru had merely frowned, thinking it would be just like his late brother Paulu to have left his worldly goods to some do-good favourite charity. After all, he and his wife Tania had died together and their marriage had been childless and Alissandru, his twin, had no need of any inheritance, being not only the elder twin and owner of the family estate in Sicily but also a billionaire in his own right.

  ‘Take a deep breath, Alissandru,’ Constantia urged, well acquainted with her surviving son’s sizzling temper. ‘Paulu had the right to leave his estate where he wished and we do not know that Tania’s sister is deserving of so unpleasant a label.’

  Alissandru was pacing the small legal office, a form of behaviour that was distinctly intimidating in a confined space because he was several inches over six feet tall, a lean, powerful figure, dressed in one of the elegant tailored black suits he favoured. That funereal colour had earned him the nickname ‘The Raven’ in the City of London, where his aggressive and hugely successful business instincts were famous, as befitted a renowned entrepreneur in the new technology field. Pacing that office, he reminded the family lawyer of a prowling tiger penned up in a cage.

  Not deserving? Alissandru thought in outrage, recalling that little red-headed teenager, Isla Stewart, at his brother’s wedding six long years before. At barely sixteen years old, she had been rocking a sexually provocative outfit, parading her nubile curves and shapely legs in a clear sexual offer to the highest bidder, he reflected in disgust. Later that day too, he had seen her emerging from one of the bedrooms in a dishevelled state, only moments before one of his cousins left the same room, straightening his cuffs and tidying his hair. Obviously Isla was just like her sister, Tania, who had been brazen, wanton and dishonest.

  ‘I was not aware that Paulu was in any form of contact with Tania’s sister,’ Alissandru admitted curtly. ‘No doubt she pulled the wool over his trusting eyes as easily as her sister did and wheedled her way into his soft heart.’

  Very real grief fractured Alissandru’s hard driven drawl as he spoke because he had loved his twin a great deal and could still, even six weeks after the helicopter crash that had claimed the lives of both Paulu and Tania, not quite believe that he would never ever speak to him again. Even worse, Alissandru could not shake the guilt of knowing that he had been powerless to protect his brother from that designing harpy, Tania Stewart. Sadly, Paulu’s last years had been deeply unhappy, but he had refused to divorce the sleazy underwear model he had married in such haste, believing that she was pregnant...only, surprise, surprise, Alissandru recalled cynically, that had proved to be a false alarm.

  Tania had gone on to destroy his brother’s life with her wild extravagance, her shrewish tantrums and, finally, her infidelity. Yet throughout those excesses, Paulu had steadily continued to adore Tania as though she were a goddess amongst women. But then, unhappily for him, Paulu had been a gentle soul, very caring, loyal and committed. As unlike Alissandru in every way as day was to night. Yet Alissandru had treasured those stark differences and had trusted Paulu in a way he had trusted no other living person. And although he was enraged at his conviction that yet another Stewart woman had somehow contrived to mislead and manipulate his brother into drawing up such a will, there was yet another part of him which, sadly, felt betrayed by his sibling.

  After all, Paulu had known how much the family estate meant to Alissandru and yet he had left his home on the Sicilian estate and all his money to Tania’s sister. A lottery win for the sister, a slap in the face for Alissandru even though he knew his brother would have sooner cut off his hand than hurt him. Paulu, being Paulu, however, could never have dreamt that so tragic an accident might take both his and his wife’s lives together, clearing the way for Paulu’s sister-in-law to inherit what should never ever have become hers.

  ‘Paulu visited Isla a few times in London during that period that...er...’ Contantia hesitated, choosing her words with particular tact ‘...that he and Tania were separated. He was fond of the girl.’

  ‘He never mentioned it to me!’ Alissandru bit out explosively, his dark eyes flashing and his lean, darkly handsome features clenching hard at the image of yet another Stewart woman having woven her seductive, cloying charm over his impressionable brother in pursuit of profit. Paulu had always been a soft touch for a sob story, Alissandru conceded grimly.

  Speaking for himself, however, Alissandru had never been that foolish. He liked women but women loved him, hunting him like a rare breed because he was rich and single. In his younger days he had heard every sob story going and once or twice, in his inexperience, had even fallen for such ploys, but it had been years since he had been that naive or imprudent. These days he chose his lovers from his own stratum in society. Women with their own wealth or very demanding careers were a safer bet for the kind of casual light affair in which Alissandru specialised. They understood that he wasn’t ready to settle down and practised the same discretion that he did.

  ‘Knowing how you felt about Tania, Paulu wouldn’t have mentioned it,’ his mother pointed out gently. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Buy Paulu’s house back from her...what else?’ Alissandru pronounced with an angry shrug at the infuriating prospect of having to enrich a Stewart woman yet again. How many times had he paid Tania’s debts to protect his brother and shield him from her insatiable demands? But what else could he do in the present? Tania was dead and buried and her sister had not even bothered to attend the funeral, all attempts to contact her directly at her last-known address having failed. That fact alone really said it all about the weak bond between the sisters, didn’t it?

  ‘We’ll have to track Tania’s little sister down,’ Alissandru breathed in a raw driven undertone of menace.

  * * *

  Isla blew on her frozen fingers, the gathering wind chilling her face below her woolly bobble hat as she fed the hens in haste and gathered the eggs. She would have to bake to use them up, she thought cheerfully, and then she immediately felt guilty for having a happy thought when her only sister and her brother-in-law were dead.

  And even worse, she wouldn’t even have known that it had happened, had not a kind neighbour driven over a week earlier to break that tragic news in person. Her aunt and uncle, who owned the Highland croft in Scotland where Isla was staying, but who were currently visiting her aunt’s family in New Zealand, had read on the Internet about the news of Paulu and Tania’s death in a helicopter crash. They had immediately contacted their neighbour and had then phoned to ask if Isla wanted them to come home so that she could travel out to Italy.

  But what would have been the point in that trip when she had already missed the funerals? Isla asked herself heavily. It was the great sadness of her life that she had never got to know her only sibling. Of course, they had
grown up apart and Tania had been ten years older, and Isla was the daughter who was an unplanned and not very welcome late arrival following their father’s premature death. Their mother, Morag, already struggling to survive, had headed down to London with Tania to find work while accepting her own mother’s offer to take care of her new baby until such time as the little family of mother and daughters could be reunited.

  Only unfortunately that reunion had never happened. Isla had grown up in the same Highland croft as her mother had with grandparents who were effectively her parents. Morag had made occasional visits at Christmas, gifting Isla with vague memories of a soft-faced woman with red curly hair like her own and a much taller, leggy, blonde sister, who even as an adolescent had blossomed into a classic beauty. Tania had left home at a very young age to become a model, and not long afterwards Isla’s mother had passed away from the kidney complaint she had long suffered from. Indeed, the first time Isla had communicated directly with her sister had been when Tania phoned the croft to invite Isla to her wedding in Sicily.

  Isla had been embarrassed that her grandparents were not also being invited but the elderly couple had insisted that she go alone because Tania was generously offering to pay for her kid sister’s travel costs. Being fair-minded people, her grandparents had also pointed out that Tania had never had the opportunity to get to know any of them and that they were all next door to being strangers even if they were bound by blood.

  Isla still cringed at the memory of how out of her depth she had felt attending that opulent wedding with all its important moneyed guests and of the unpleasant experience she had suffered when cornered by a predatory older man. But, worst of all, the longed-for connection with her only sibling had signally failed to materialise from her visit. Indeed, Tania’s attitude to life in general had shocked Isla.