Claiming His Cinderella Secretary

by Cathy Williams

  ‘I had an ill-fated relationship shortly after the death of our parents,’ he admitted heavily. ‘I would say that that was the nail in the coffin of any inclination I might have had to test the waters of emotional involvement.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I sought refuge in the wrong woman. I was lost, and I foolishly thought that I needed someone to help me find my way. It was a learning curve. After that, I closed myself off, and I liked it that way. I liked knowing that I was in control of everything and everyone. No unpleasant surprises. Women came and went and there was no attachment. If any of them started thinking outside the box, well, I guess, looking back, I was pretty ruthless, but it was a ruthlessness I never questioned.’

  Mesmerised by this outpouring of heartfelt admissions, Ellie could only stare at him, round-eyed.

  ‘I always knew the score, so when we became lovers I assumed you did as well, because you knew me as well as I knew myself. No attachments. Three years working with someone...’ He smiled wryly. ‘You were all but my wife without the ring on your finger.’

  ‘That’s hardly true.’ Ellie flushed and lowered her eyes.

  ‘Maybe not then but certainly once we became lovers.’ He stared broodingly at her, then smiled again—a lazy, rueful smile that sent a tingle racing through her. ‘I’d never felt so comfortable with anyone before. Of course, now I know why. I was in love with you, and everything was different. The lights had been switched on, only I didn’t realise it. I just knew that I wasn’t ready for things between us to end.’

  ‘And yet when I...when I told you how I felt...’

  ‘I did what I was programmed to do,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘I fled, but there was only so far I could run and for only so long. The last day and a half have been hell, and there was no way I could contemplate going to Hawaii and pretending that my life wasn’t in freefall without you in it.’

  Every word he said was music to her ears. She had bared her soul and now he was baring his.

  ‘So,’ he concluded, reaching towards her to tangle his fingers in her hair, eyes pinned to her face. ‘I can’t live without you. I love you and I need you and I was a fool for not recognising the symptoms of love sooner. I told you that I wouldn’t expect you to sleep with me without a ring on your finger...so, will you marry me?’

  ‘I think...’ Ellie smiled and looked at him with all the love she was now free to express. ‘I think you know the answer to that...’

  * * *

  Ellie slipped her hand into James’s, looked up at him and smiled.

  She couldn’t have been happier. Yet now, a mere couple of days after his proposal, she found that she was nervous as they walked towards the private function room in the five-star hotel where she would meet his assembled family.

  ‘You look radiant,’ he murmured, tipping her chin so that their eyes met. ‘And it’s not as though congratulations haven’t already been flying across the airwaves.’ He grinned. ‘Izzy has texted a hundred times. They can’t wait to get to know you.’

  Ellie glanced down at her dress, jade-green and softly falling from thin spaghetti straps to just above her knees. She had angsted over what to wear and, concluded, with precious little time to choose, that the outfit would be fine for a lunchtime do, bearing in mind that many more would be joining them for an early supper—including, she had gathered, Max’s fiancée Mia’s sprawling family. She took a deep breath and met his reassuring grin with a smile.

  ‘Seems unfair that Max and Mia’s big day is just round the corner and we’ve gate-crashed it with an announcement of our engagement...’

  ‘We didn’t do that,’ James pointed out. ‘A certain malevolent ex did...’

  He thought back to the text he had received from Naomi a couple of days ago. She hadn’t been able to resist getting in touch so that she could rub his nose in it, pleased with herself for landing him in a place she’d figured he’d loathe. It had given him huge satisfaction to inform her of the aisle he would be walking down with the woman he loved right there by his side. No need to block her number, because he knew that he wouldn’t be hearing from her again any time soon.

  ‘Besides,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘I think Max is only too pleased that he’s not the only die-hard bachelor to find himself hopelessly in love. I spoke to him just before we flew, and he actually crowed that yet again big brother is leading the way...’

  ‘You always manage to say the right things,’ Ellie murmured, and raised her eyebrows when he replied without batting an eyelid,

  ‘Is that the sound of you admitting that you’ll be marrying the perfect man?’ He burst out laughing, pushing open the imposing door in front of them at the same time, ‘No...don’t answer that. Your expression speaks louder than words and, my darling, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now...time to brave the lion’s den...’

  Ellie had no time for her nerves to flourish. They opened the door to a quiet gathering. Max and Mia, and Izzy and her fiancé Gabriel, and a little child with long, dark hair and bright, curious eyes.

  The room had been adorned with flair, a picture-book story of everything Hawaii had to offer. Beautiful plants dotted the huge space and stunning local paintings adorned the walls. Ellie took it all in and smiled, relaxing as the women leapt to their feet and came towards her while James, smiling, moved to kiss his sister in passing before joining the guys.

  A quiet segregation of the sexes, soon to be remedied, but just for the moment Ellie was enfolded by Izzy and Mia, with Rosa bobbing around and clamouring to join the club, just the thing to set her at ease.

  ‘I can’t believe James is getting married!’ Izzy squealed. ‘Mind you, the real shock was Max.’ She hugged Mia, a striking olive-skinned girl with skin as smooth as satin and long, brown hair pinned to one side with a deep red hibiscus flower, and kept her arm slung affectionately round the other woman’s shoulders. They both looked at Ellie, eyes lively and warm.

  ‘We girls have to tame these guys,’ Mia confided, grinning. ‘And that includes Gabriel!’

  ‘Can I tame someone?’ Rosa demanded, which was the cue for the guys to burst out laughing as Max asked what plots were being concocted. And then Ellie was being shepherded to the table, where champagne was waiting to be drunk and a mouth-watering array of local dishes were set out, with two waiters standing stiffly by the doors, ready to be summoned to serve the food and pour the drinks.

  In one sweeping glance, she took them all in—her new family. She was barely aware of champagne corks popping but she was aware of glasses being raised for a toast to Max and Mia.

  ‘To Max and Mia!’ she said on cue.

  Her turn would soon be coming and she couldn’t wait...

  * * *

  Enchanted by Claiming His Cinderella Secretary? Discover the first and second instalments in the Secrets of the Stowe Family trilogy

  Forbidden Hawaiian Nights

  Promoted to the Italian’s Fiancée

  And catch up on these other Cathy Williams stories!

  Shock Marriage for the Powerful Spaniard

  The Italian’s Christmas Proposition

  His Secretary’s Nine-Month Notice

  Expecting His Billion-Dollar Scandal

  The Forbidden Cabrera Brother

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Italian’s Doorstep Surprise by Jennie Lucas.

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  The Italian’s Doorstep Surprise

  by Jennie Lucas

  CHAPTER ONE

  A FIERCE SUMMER storm was raging off the Atlantic coast, pummeling hi
s sprawling oceanfront mansion. Nico Ferraro stared out the open window, his mood as dark as the crashing surf below.

  Rain blew inside his study, running down the inside wall to the hardwood floor as bright lightning crackled across the sky. He took another sip of Scotch. Thunder shook the house, rattling the windows. Nico remained unmoving, staring broodingly into the night.

  He’d lost the thing that mattered most. All the billions he’d accumulated, his fame, his romantic conquests, meant nothing. He’d lost his chance at vengeance, had it ripped from his grasp at the very moment of his triumph.

  Nico heard a loud bang from the other side of the house. Not thunder this time. Someone was banging at his front door.

  “Please,” a woman’s voice screamed into the storm. “Please, Mr. Ferraro, you have to let me in.”

  Nico took another sip of the forty-year-old Scotch. His butler would handle the intruder, assisted by his security team if necessary. He was in no mood to see anyone tonight.

  “If you don’t, someone will die,” she cried.

  Now that piqued his curiosity. He suddenly wanted to at least hear the woman’s story before he tossed her back into the rain. He started to turn from the open window, hesitated, then closed the glass window behind him. He didn’t give a damn about this place—just another anonymous fifty-million-dollar Hamptons beach house—but he’d be putting it on the market tomorrow. This estate was useless to him now it could no longer be the scene of his revenge.

  Going down the wide hallway to the foyer, he saw three men gathered in a semicircle around the front door. Behind them, Nico saw the smaller shape of a young woman, soaking wet, with her hair plastered to her skin and her clothes stuck to her body...

  Nico sucked in his breath as he realized two things.

  First, the young woman, beautiful and dark-haired, was pregnant. Beneath the light on the front porch, her white sundress revealed every luscious outline of her body, her full breasts and heavily pregnant belly.

  Second, he knew her.

  “Stop,” Nico said, coming forward. “Let her come inside.”

  His head of security frowned back at him. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, boss. She’s been talking wild—”

  “Let her in,” he cut him off, and his henchman reluctantly stepped aside.

  “Thank you, oh, thank you,” the young woman cried, though it was hard to tell if those were tears streaming down her cheeks or rain. She grabbed at Nico’s hand urgently. “I was so scared you wouldn’t...when I have to tell you—”

  “It’s all right.” Nico tried to remember how to be polite. His skills were a little rusty. “You’re safe now, Miss—” Then he realized that he’d forgotten her name, which of course was embarrassing and damnable, since her grandfather was the longtime gardener at his Manhattan penthouse. To cover, he said sharply, “Your hands are like ice.” He turned to a bodyguard. “Get her a blanket.”

  “Of course, Mr. Ferraro.”

  Her teeth were chattering with cold. “But I have—have to tell you—”

  “Whatever it is, it can wait until you’re not freezing to death.” He started to offer her the half-empty glass of Scotch still in his hand, but then stopped as he remembered pregnant women generally avoided such things. “Perhaps a warm drink?”

  “No, really,” she croaked, “if you’ll just listen—”

  Nico turned to his butler. “Find her some hot cocoa.”

  Sebastian looked rather doubtful. “Cocoa, sir? I’m not sure—”

  “Wake the cook,” he bit out, and the man scurried off.

  It occurred to Nico that his staff had gone to seed. Once, it would have been unnecessary for him to repeat any order—ever. All of his houses, like his international real estate conglomerate, had run like well-oiled machines. Though of course, that was before. How long ago had that been, when Nico had still cared so desperately to make his life appear perfect?

  Christmas. It had been Christmas Day. And now it was—

  “What day is it?” he barked at his security chief. The man looked at him like he was mad.

  “It’s the first of July, Mr. Ferraro.”

  Six months. And he could barely recall any of it, though he’d obviously continued to buy properties and run his company from Rome. He clawed his hand through his dark hair. Was he losing his mind?

  “Nico. Please.”

  Hearing his gardener’s granddaughter call him by his first name drew Nico’s attention as nothing else had. He looked at her.

  The young woman gripped his hand, looking up at him pleadingly, and he had a strange stirring of memory. But of what?

  He barely knew her. He’d seen her occasionally over the years, of course, as she’d grown up amid the rooftop gardens of Nico’s Manhattan penthouse, a few hours from here. She had to be in her midtwenties now. Perhaps he’d said hello once or twice, or wished her happy holidays, that sort of thing, but nothing more. Nothing to warrant her suddenly calling him Nico, as if they were friends. As if they were lovers.

  He withdrew his hand, folding his arms. “Why are you here? Why have you made such a scene?”

  As a bodyguard wrapped a warm blanket over her slender shoulders, she nearly sobbed, “Just listen.”

  “I’m listening,” he said. “Tell me.”

  Her eyes were an uncanny green in her pale complexion, beneath striking dark eyebrows that matched her wild, dark hair. She took a deep breath. “My grandfather is coming here to shoot you.”

  Nico frowned. “Your grandfather? Why?” He could think of no complaint the gardener might have against him. To his best memory, he hadn’t even spoken to the man since before Christmas, when he’d given him exact instructions about the holiday lighting for the pergola and trees on the penthouse terrace. Back when Nico had cared about such things. Back before—

  He pushed the thought away. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Why would I joke about that!”

  He saw the terror in her eyes. However ridiculous it sounded, clearly the woman believed her story. So it was either true, or she was having some kind of psychotic breakdown. He could hardly judge her for that, after his six months of near-fugue state as CEO of Ferraro Developments Inc. He knew he’d made multimillion-dollar deals, but he could hardly remember a single one. “Why would he want to kill me, Miss...uh...?”

  Damn it. Too late, he remembered again that he didn’t know. Glaring at the Scotch, which he held entirely to blame, he set the half-empty crystal glass on the hallway table.

  The woman’s expression changed as she stared up at him with big eyes. She said slowly, “You don’t remember my name?”

  There was no point in pretending.

  “No. I’m sorry. I mean no disrespect to you or your grandfather. Even if he’s trying to kill me.” He smiled grimly, and when she didn’t return the smile, he sobered and said, “Tell me your name.”

  There. He’d said I’m sorry, which he rarely did.

  But she didn’t seem particularly impressed. She lifted her chin, her green eyes shooting emerald sparks in the light of the foyer.

  “My name is Honora Callahan, my grandfather is Patrick Burke and he thinks you’ve disrespected both of us. That’s why he’s on his way here right now with his old hunting rifle, intending to shoot your head off.”

  Nico almost laughed at the image. He stopped himself just in time. “Why would he?”

  She stared at him, her pretty face bewildered. He shifted his feet, growing uncomfortable beneath her searching gaze.

  “I’m sure you can guess,” she said finally.

  He snorted. “How would I know?”

  She licked her lips, glancing nervously at Frank Bauer, his security chief, and the other bodyguard still standing by the front door. Both men were pretending not to hear, though they’d moved their hands to their holsters when Hono
ra mentioned her grandfather’s rifle.

  “Fine,” she said. “If that’s how you want to play it. But when Granddad gets here, he’ll be waving his rifle and shouting crazy threats. Just tell your bodyguards to ignore him. Don’t let them hurt him.”

  “What would you prefer? That I just let your grandfather kill me?” he said acidly. “Burke is a good gardener, but there are limits to what I’ll do for employee morale.”

  “As soon as he gets here, I’ll go outside and calm him down. Just stay in here, and tell your men not to pull out their guns. That’s all.”

  “Hide like a coward in my own home?”

  “Oh, for the love of—” Honora stamped her small foot. As she did so, Nico’s gaze fell unwillingly on the bounce of her full breasts. He could even see— His mouth went dry. The shape of her hard nipples were clearly visible beneath the wet, thin fabric. “Just stay inside and don’t respond.” Her voice changed. “Should be easy for you.”

  There was some criticism there he didn’t understand. Forcing his gaze upward, he said, “You still haven’t explained why Burke would do this. I haven’t spoken to the man for months.”

  Honora’s pale cheeks seemed to burn. Ducking her head, she glanced down at her belly and mumbled, “You know why.”

  Nico’s heart dropped to the floor, as if somehow his body knew what she was about to say, even though his brain protested it was impossible. “No.”

  Honora huffed with a flare of nostrils. “I’m pregnant, Nico. With your baby.”

  * * *

  Lightning flashed, flooding the foyer with brief white light as Honora stared up at Nico’s handsome face, her heart pounding. Thunder followed, rattling the windows of the oceanfront mansion. Her whole body was shivering. Not from cold, but from fear.