* * *
Complicating matters is India’s close relationship with her friend, K-pop star Sun, who is in turmoil as well. After photographs of Massimo kissing his ex-girlfriend flood the internet, India flees to Seoul where she and the distressed Sun rekindle their sexual relationship.
With two men in her heart and another determined to kill her, India becomes mired in uncertainty and depression. When she and Massimo reconnect, she begins to see a way of out of her gloom and falls in love with him…
…except her vengeful psychopath is never far behind. With more secrets getting revealed, India needs to decide who to love—and who to trust.
Massimo Verdi, international playboy and one of the world’s sexiest actors, is still single after ending a decade-long romance when he meets American singer India Blue and is instantly bowled over by her.
* * *
Frustrated by India’s apparent flightiness, Massimo tries to forget her and gets caught up in a scandal involving his manipulative ex-girlfriend, Valentina.
After photos of them kissing are published, Massimo thinks he has lost India forever but when she reaches out to him, their friendship blossoms and soon becomes romantic in nature.
As much as he is falling for her, Massimo can see that India’s life is convoluted, and he fears that could lose the woman he loves to a deranged stalker.
Can he risk his heart? What about India’s secret past and her love for another man in another country? Can Massimo trust her to love him alone or will he need to put his ego aside to capture the heart of the most incredible woman he has ever met?
Chapter One - Wicked Game…
Venice, Italy
* * *
India Blue inhaled as much oxygen as she could through her nose, then let it out slowly through her mouth. The breath juddered from her in a shaky, almost gasp-like hiss. It was always this way: the nerves before the concert started, the heinous half-hour of self-doubt. Her stage fright was well documented and that gave her a measure of comfort. The people who paid to hear her sing knew she got panicky; if they were a decent crowd, they’d give her that bit extra to get her adrenaline flowing.
At least that’s what she hoped—that they’d be kind. Even after all this time, she had trouble believing in the screams and the joy she received when she waved to the thousands of fans that filled her concerts. She had felt like an awkward, bashful teenager when all of this started—when she was able to function once more after the incident.
God. Why are you thinking of this now?
India tasted bile and was about to dissolve into a full-blown panic attack. Not a good situation when she was due on stage in five minutes. She pulled her long dark hair back into a messy ponytail—no stylists or makeup for her—she preferred the intimacy of making herself up, of getting her hair just the way she wanted. She never was a fashionista despite the high-end designers scrambling to sign the beautiful, young Indian-American girl. India checked her reflection: huge dark-brown eyes, pink mouth, golden skin. People considered her beautiful but the haunted look in her eyes never went away, and that was all she could see in her reflection.
India grabbed her phone to check the time. Four minutes to curtain up. Being allowed to play at La Fenice, Venice’s premier opera house, was a testament to her talent. So far, she was one of a handful of non-classical artists to do so. Her signature mix of pop, country, and jazz was unique, certainly, but she never liked being confined by genres.
“Hey, Bubba.”
As soon as India heard her brother’s voice, all her tension drained. Technically, Lazlo Schuler was not a blood relative but he was the one she trusted the most—and there weren’t many.
“Hey bro. Just about to go on.”
Lazlo gave a deep chuckle. “I wish I could be there to see you, Bubba. This is a special night.”
India sighed. “It’s okay, Laz, I understand what you have to deal with over there.”
“How come you’re my only client who I never have trouble with?” Lazlo laughed. He was her manager, her publicist, her everything, but he also had other clients on his roster—clients who demanded his attention day and night. At forty-nine, Lazlo was resolutely single, married to his job and the best in the business. “You heard from Gabe, Bubba?” Lazlo’s brother worked in Los Angeles.
“A text message. He and Selena are really splitting up, huh?”
Lazlo sighed. “At this point, it’s probably the best for both. Flogging a dead horse and all that. Listen, I hate to be a nag but by my watch, you should have been on stage a minute ago.”
India glanced at the clock. “Shit. Look, thanks, Laz, I’ll call you later.”
“Love you, Bubba. Hey, say hello to Diana and Grey.”
India grinned. “Will do. Love you, bro.”
* * *
As she walked to the stage, less anxious now that she had spoken to Lazlo, she thought about her plans after the show. She was having a late dinner and drinks with her best friends, Diana Harper and Grey Lynch, a married couple, two English actors she had been close friends with for years now. Back in the day, India scored a film of Diana’s, when she herself was a music star, and they’d been friends ever since. Diana was flirty, feisty, and fun; twenty-two years senior to India’s twenty-eight, and India considered her a sister. Diana had counseled her through some hard times, and her husband Grey, a laidback sweetheart, had become a close friend as well.
Later this evening, she would meet with them and their friend, Massimo. India’s heart began to beat a little faster. Massimo Verdi was Italy’s biggest movie star: attractive, dark-brown curls, intense green eyes, a body to die for, and a rich, masculine voice that sent chills through her. She’d never met him; Diana was close friends with him and he asked to meet her, much to India’s surprise. Her first instinct was to say no; the crushing weight of her tragic history stifling her. Diana had seen her discomfort and firmly sat her down.
“Sweetheart…it’s just dinner. Massimo’s a sweetie…once you get past the machismo and that marvelous face of his. He’s a fan and wants to meet you. And for whatever it’s worth…I think you’ll like him.”
So, she agreed, much to Diana’s delight. A few evenings ago, she was in Rome, and Diana made them watch one of Massimo’s movies. Diana was right, he is divine. The role he played was a tortured artist, manipulated by the woman he loved. He was hypnotic in the role, and she could not stop thinking about him ever since.
“Hey, India, you ready? They’re foaming at the mouth for you.”
India smiled at the stagehand, pushed her thoughts of Massimo Verdi to the back of her mind, and stepped out on the stage.
* * *
Massimo hugged Diana and Grey hello, and they walked directly to their private box to watch the show. The lights were already down as they took their seats, and the first swirling notes of music commenced. Massimo smiled at Diana.
“I’ve been looking forward to this day.”
Diana grinned back. “Good! You know, right about now, India will be at the side of the stage trying not to vomit.”
Massimo laughed. “I understand that emotion.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.”
Massimo smirked and shrugged. His face, his body, his voice had power. His confidence was well-earned, and he often concealed how shy he really was.
The music got louder and the screams and applause of the fans went into overdrive as India Blue stepped into the spotlight. The roar of the audience along with the sight of her in the flesh for the first time, lit dramatically by concert lights, sent adrenaline shooting through his veins and he leaned eagerly forward.
The first note she sung made him shiver. So pure and clear, then as the song continued, her legendary rasp came in—so much emotion, so much honesty. Massimo was enraptured. She was petite but leggy with breakneck curves and a small waist, and the way her dark hair was escaping from the bun on the back of her neck made him crazy. He could feel his groin tighten as he watched her move. She was not a singer
with highly stylized shows, backup dancers, or intricate, well-practiced dance moves. Instead, she swayed with the rhythm when she was at the mic or sitting at her piano, her whole body seeming to merge with the instrument. It was not sexual, nor her writhing meant to titillate. India Blue was an individual so connected with her music that everything she had went into the performance.
To Massimo, it was the singularly most erotic thing he’d seen and he knew, without doubt, that he wanted India Blue in his bed and in his life.
* * *
India high-fived every member of her band making sure they got equal applause. It was one of the reasons session musicians clamored to work with her: she paid well over-standard rates; she was inclusive; collaborative; and best of all, she loved. She treated them as family and never put herself above them, even though it was her name on the marquee bringing the audiences—and the money—rolling in.
As she began the encore, she glanced up to the box where she knew Diana, Grey, and Massimo Verdi were sitting. She smiled and waved at them who smiled back, and then she looked at Massimo. He was staring at her, his eyes intense, and she could not tear her own eyes away from him. At the first line of the song—a slow, sensual cover of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game”—suddenly only the two of them were in the room.
The world was on fire and all that could save me was you…
India never sung a more honest line.
Chapter Two - I'll Be Seeing You
India showered quickly, her heart thumping. In a few moments, she would be meeting the man who she sang a freaking love song to in front of thousands of people.
What were you thinking? She berated herself as she dried her hair, leaving it down so she could hide behind it. She slipped into a loose-fitting lilac swing dress that showed off her long legs and the cinnamon tone of her skin. A delicate long chain cuddled between her breasts, the lightest of makeup on her face. India glanced in the mirror. The haunted look was there. With it, something else. Something new. Excitement.
Before she decided to cancel, she grabbed her purse and went out to meet her friends—and the man who put that excitement in her.
* * *
Disappointment shot through her when Diana and Grey were alone. You scared him off. She swallowed the sting and happily greeted her friends. Diana beamed at her. “You were fantastic, darling, and utterly spellbinding.” She lowered her voice to a stage-whisper. “You had quite the effect on our Italian friend.”
India colored, and Grey shot his wife a warning glance tempered with a smile. “Leave the poor girl alone. Sorry, sweetheart,” Grey kissed India’s cheek, “I married a pimp. Massi had to use the bathroom.”
“And he’s returned!” Diana crowed suddenly, and India’s stomach twisted into knots when he spoke behind her.
“Buona sera.” His voice was even deeper in person, like dark chocolate. India turned to look at him, hoping the blatant lust she was feeling wasn’t too obvious. He was tall, at least six-two, dwarfing her five-five. His eyes searched her face in a way that made her feel she was already naked and about to be fucked into next Tuesday by him. He oozed sex. There was a precarious intensity to him that made him look angry, menacing…and then he smiled.
Oh, dear God…that smile. His expression altered from manly to boyish in a split second—from dangerous to sweet. Damn. India was gaping at him and hoped she wasn’t actually drooling. She tentatively smiled back at him. “Hey there. Great to meet you at last.”
Massimo Verdi leaned in and kissed her cheek, only lingering for a second longer. His scent was woodsy and clean, a tiny hint of expensive tobacco underneath. His mouth was perfectly shaped and soft against her cheek.
India took a breath to compose herself, glancing over to Diana and Grey who were talking amongst themselves. There was a gleam in Diana’s eyes when her friend returned her attention. “Shall we go and dine, loves? I’m starving.”
* * *
Diana was an expert at ‘innocent’ manipulation, Massimo thought to himself with a smirk, as his friend deftly arranged them at table so he sat next to India. Not that he minded – India Blue was everything he’d imagined and so much more. The soft beauty of her features—those dark eyes and those lips—he was already having fantasies about that pink mouth of hers.
He noticed Diana slip India a phone under the table, and India, without looking, typed in something and handed it back. Massimo half-grinned when he caught India’s eye. She subtly put a finger over her lips; it was obviously some kind of prank. He winked at her and gave the tiniest nod—I got your back.
As she sat next to him, he couldn’t help but notice the bare skin of her thigh—such a glorious golden color. He wanted to run his hand along her smooth skin…
“Massi?”
Massimo tore his attention away from India’s thigh. Diana was smiling at him. “Massi, we watched Sole Scuro the other night, and I have to tell you—sorry to rat you out, Indy—but by the end, Indy was screaming bloody murder at the television.”
India and Grey laughed, and Massimo smiled, turning to the woman at his side. “You were?”
She nodded. “That guy was setting you up the entire time! I was livid!” Massimo was amused at her indignation.
“She kept yelling, ‘No! Don’t let him do that!’ Although the language was quite a bit coarser.” Grey shook his head in mock-disappointment.
India leaned closer to Massimo. “I actually had to be reminded that it wasn’t real.”
Massimo laughed. “Well, I hope not! I died at the end of that movie.”
Diana cackled, and India burst out laughing. “You heartless wench.”
The men joined the laughter as Diana waved her hands. “No, I’m not happy about that, just at the memory of somebody getting a little teary.” She looked pointedly at India who flushed scarlet and shot back.
“Yes. It was Grey.”
“Fibber.” Diana rolled her eyes and smirked at Massimo.
Grey decided to help India out. “I have to say, it was sad.”
“Yeah, see?” India looked so incensed that Massimo couldn’t resist brushing the back of his hand against her cheek for the briefest second.
“I’m touched that you enjoyed it.”
India gratefully smiled at him. “You were amazing, Massimo, in all seriousness. Spellbinding!”
Their eyes met and, for just that brief moment, their gaze locked. They were interrupted by the arrival of their food, but the ice had been broken. Massimo was indebted to Diana; the woman knew how to make any situation seem natural and so much fun. He smiled at her appreciatively; she looked back with a question in her eyes. You like her? He nodded; the slight movement to acknowledge that, yes, he did like this young woman sitting next to him.
All four chatted and laughed for the rest of the feast and then lingered over drinks. For Massimo, it was nice to relax with friends and not get harassed by the press. He easily engaged India in conversation, talking about how much he enjoyed her concert.
“Your voice is like liquid silk,” he said thoughtfully, “but then there’s the kick of deep claret in there, too. Like a hot chili in chocolate. Sensual, dark, affecting.”
India was blushing and he loved the rose pink against her golden skin. “Thank you, that’s a divine thing to say.”
“I was telling Massimo about your music video project,” Diana interjected, all innocence but her eyes twinkling. “Indy, wouldn’t Massi be the perfect leading man for it?”
India’s face went red, but she beamed and looked at Massimo. “You would be,” her voice shook endearingly, “but I couldn’t suppose…”
“I’d love to,” he said, pushing away the thought his agent would kill him for agreeing to something without consulting her. But the hell with it—anything to spend more time with this lovely woman. “We should arrange a time to discuss it while you’re in the country. How long will you be here for?”
She hesitated. “A while. I’m not certain on exact dates but at least a month.”
Massimo relaxed. “Then we have all the time in the world.” Again, their eyes locked and held, and if Diana and Grey hadn’t been there, he would have leaned over and pressed his lips to hers…
Suddenly, tinny music erupted, and as Grey’s phone belted out “I’m Too Sexy” loudly, he exclaimed “You little minx!” to India, who dissolved into giggles. “How the heck did you manage to change my ring tone…again? Every time!” He shook his head trying not to smile, and Massimo realized what Diana and India had been doing earlier. “She does this to me every time and I never catch her,” Grey explained to Massimo, who started to laugh. Diana looked innocent, but India gleefully blew a kiss at Grey.
“I have my ways, Lynch. Magic sticky fingers.”
“Magic something.” Grey grumbled, then grinned at his young friend. “I suppose “I’m Too Sexy” is better than what you set it to last time.” He adjusted his phone settings. “She changed it to “Ain’t Nothin’ like Gangbang,” ” he told Massimo who choked on his drink. “And my agent called me…in front of my mother.”
India whooped and high-fived Diana and then gave Grey a cheesy sneer when he scowled at her in mock-disapproval. Massimo smiled. These were good people to be around: fun, no fake airs and graces. Their table attracted a lot of attention merely for who was sitting there but thankfully, they were left in peace to take pleasure in their evening.
“So, tell me,” he asked India, who was still adorably flushed with victory from her prank, “This project….is it a music video?”
India nodded. “Actually, it’s more of a short film, a story of a relationship in four songs. The theme is built around suspicion, heartbreak, separation, and tragedy. Not the most original, but I’m hoping the visuals and the music will provide the originality. I’d really like to film it here in Venice and use some masquerade visuals in it.”
Billionaire Romance Series: Dreams Fulfilled (1-3) Page 23
