by Tara Pammi
“If you were the computer whiz kid the world calls you, you’d have my financials in hand by now.”
“Believe me, I was tempted to find the salacious details of your criminal life last night. But my brother reminded me of the importance of doing this through official channels.
“So I ordered a background check on you. Your whole life will be in my hands in a matter of hours,” he added, making sure she understood the consequences. “Just because I accept your condition doesn’t mean I trust you. Or intend to let you get away with it forever.”
Devoid of color, her skin looked alarmingly pale against the black leather. “Is a background check necessary? All you need is to confirm that I’m dirt poor.”
He shrugged.
What else was she hiding? And how was he going to explain her presence near him, 24/7, to his family, to the world? The last time he’d been in an actual relationship had been...never. He worked hard, partied hard. For more than a decade, he’d worked sixteen-hour days, buried in his lab. Coming up only for refueling.
Brunetti Cyber Securities came first. Always would.
First because he’d needed to prove to his father that he wasn’t the runt he’d been called all his childhood. And prove himself to Leo even, because he’d been the golden son, the adored Brunetti heir at first. Because Leonardo had been everything Massimo hadn’t been able to be.
Later, when Leo had realized the extent of their father’s bullying of Massimo, he’d hated Leo’s pity, his concern for him. Resented him for thinking Massimo needed handouts, that Massimo was weak. But then success itself had become the motivator; the challenge of building better and better cyber systems had become its own drug.
The more he had, the more he’d wanted. The more he wanted his father and his family and his brother to be beholden to his company for fueling much needed funds into Brunetti Finances.
Suddenly, the answer came to him. Two problems and one solution. A tangible use of the attraction between them. An explanation for her presence with him, night and day.
He’d get her to trust him with the complete truth, then he might even take her to bed. Scratch the itch out of his system. Her innocent act would have to drop when he had the background check in his hands.
He pulled up his phone and texted his assistant waiting outside to ready a contract with all the required confidentiality clauses. Another text to notify Leo about the slight modification to his plans. “You’ll have the contract by the time we land. Under one—”
“I won’t leave without it.”
He shook his head. “Not even I can come up with a contract like that immediately. Not without having that background check in hand first.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.” He shrugged. The hiss of her breath, the filthy curse reverberating in the confined space, made his mouth twitch.
He was enjoying this—this pitting his will against hers, this anticipation in his gut as he waited to see what she’d do next. More than he enjoyed anything with a woman in a long time. Even more than sex. He frowned at the runaway thought. “I have a countercondition of my own.”
“You’re already blackmailing me, kidnapping me, threatening me with incarceration. What else is there?”
“You’ll be my partner for the duration. I’ll compensate you for that, too.”
“Partner? What kind of a partner?” Color left her cheeks, her eyes searching his. “For the last time, Mr. Brunetti, I’m not for sale. I’m not what you think—”
“Calm down, Natalie,” he interrupted her, trying her name on his tongue and liking it. Her eyes sought his in the relative dark, awareness shining through them. She hadn’t missed the intimacy of it, either. “It’s just another part of our deal, sì?”
“Explain. Now, please.”
“I have to explain your presence at my side, 24/7. I need a romantic partner for the foreseeable future. This way—”
“You’ve lost your mind. I’m not staying in Italy any longer than I have to. And I refuse to be your... Why the hell would a man like you need a pretend girlfriend?”
“A man like me?”
He grinned. She glared. “You’re supersmart, obviously given you’re one of the tech billionaires under thirty in the world. You’re—” she licked her lips then and he waited with arrested breath “—a walking, talking stud muffin. Not counting all that dynasty crap you threw at me. Why—?”
“What does a woman do with a stud muffin?”
She rolled her eyes and he laughed. “Why do you need a pretend girlfriend?”
“I was thinking a pretend fiancée actually.” Her eyes bugged and he grinned, explaining, “An ex-girlfriend that I can’t shake off and my nonni have joined forces. Believe me, it’s enough to scare a grown man.”
“So you don’t want to hurt their feelings?”
This time, when he laughed, it felt as if his chest would burst open. The minx was such a contrasting mix of street savvy and naïveté, of smarts and innocence. She’d make a hell of a distraction from the lethargy that had filled him of late when it came to women.
“Feelings, of any of the parties involved, are the least of my concern. Greta, my nonni, is extremely stubborn, and has antiquated views about the whole dynasty and its continuation and legacy and all that rot. For some unfathomable reason, apparently, she’s decided that Gisela Fiore, who comes with a fortune of her own, would be a sweet, biddable wife for me. Gisela is a mistake I shouldn’t have indulged in, and has been...problematic since I ended our purely physical relationship almost six months ago.”
For all her sass, color skimmed up Natalie’s cheeks. “Problematic how?”
“She knows my relationship patterns. She knew it was only an affair. When I retreated to my lab—refueled and ready—”
“What do you mean...refueled?”
“After every big project release, I need to fill the well, so to speak.”
“And you do this...refueling by sleeping with a woman you don’t care about?”
Her distaste made him frown. “I care about the woman’s pleasure. And mine. But, sì. Gisela knew that. Knew my pattern. I made it clear. After it was over, she started texting me a hundred times a day. She’d cry, make a scene at the few social events I attended. She flew to San Francisco and accosted me at a cyber security conference.
“Showed up outside our estate in Lake Como. Cornered my brother, Leo, at one of the events where her father was present, too.”
“And her father is someone whose feelings you do give a damn about?” she said tartly.
Massimo scowled. “Giuseppe Fiore is one of the most powerful banking tycoons in Milan, in all of Italy. BCS is in the running for a hundred-billion-euro security contract with his banks that spans a decade. Leo thinks it’s going to make dealing with him awkward because of Gisela.
“Why should a fling she came into with her eyes open cause problems for me now?”
“Because people are not algorithms that give you the same, expected results every time?”
“Once Giuseppe sees me with you, he’ll understand that Gisela and I are long over. And this is the best way for me to keep an eye on you.”
“If this tycoon’s so rich and powerful, and his daughter’s good enough to be your...whatever, why not just marry her? Or are you holding out for love?”
He stared at her, wondering if she was joking again. Steady brown eyes held his. “Tut, tut, Natalie...you disappoint me. The last thing I need in my life is a wife who wants love and all the rainbows it brings with it. I have nothing to give a wife at present. Or in the foreseeable future.
“Just do your part, sì? The compensation I provide should be big enough for you to get over your distaste for me,” he mocked.
Her nostrils flared. “And if I say no? If I tell your ex and your grandmother that it’s all a big
pretense?”
“You won’t do that.”
“I just—”
“Be smart about this, Natalie.” All humor fled his tone. “If I find you’ve told me the truth about your financials, about this not being a job, then what do you have to lose? For once in your life, maybe you could use your interesting capabilities to make a living. Spend a few months in the lap of luxury in Milan. Pretend to be the fiancée of the most—”
“Arrogant, high-handed man on the planet?”
“So?”
“Fine. I agree to your conditions.”
“Bene.”
He stepped out of the limo and helped her do the same, keeping his fingers around her wrist. He liked having the feel of her in his hands, this mystery hacker who’d haunted his days and nights for weeks.
“All that’s left now is to swap our life histories and practice the intimacy we have to pretend in front of my family and the whole world.”
A pithy curse fell from her mouth and Massimo looked down at her.
She was truly the most interesting woman he’d ever met. He wouldn’t hesitate to send her to jail if he found her loyalties lay with their enemy, but he would regret it all the same.
And he didn’t understand even that negligible emotion dogging his rationality, his judgment.
It had never done so before.
CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER A TRANSATLANTIC flight to Milan with a creative genius who peppered her with a million incisive questions meant to unsettle her lies. Throwing in a magnificent view of white-tipped Alps, which she’d probably never see again in her life—except maybe on the return flight on her way to jail in New York. Then a quick helicopter ride up to the shores of Lake Como—because, of course, the once-in-a-lifetime scenic drive from Milan to the lake would take forever and time was a precious commodity to a tech billionaire. Finally arriving at a destination where she was nothing but a prisoner, Natalie foolishly assumed she would become oblivious to her surroundings—not the man, of course—or at least be too exhausted mentally and physically to take much more in.
She was wrong.
The chopper landed on the side of a hill, in a sea of lush, perfectly manicured gardens with azaleas and gigantic rhododendrons and a long avenue of tall plane trees that created a walkway to the lakefront. A small boat floated at the end of the steps. Beyond, the calm waters of Lake Como glittered like a dark blanket creating a stunning sight littered with boats of various sizes floating lazily to the gorgeously lit-up houses and villages scattered about.
As Natalie followed Massimo, who seemed to have forgotten about her existence, amid carefully sculpted flower beds, she spotted a hidden cave enclosed by more azaleas and even an artificial Japanese-style pond.
“Your family owns this villa?” she said, her breath catching in her throat.
Massimo stopped, took a look around absentmindedly and then turned to her. “Sì. One of the Brunettis, a count or a duke, maybe, I think in the nineteenth century, took possession of a Benedictine monastery in these grounds and converted it into a sumptuous noble residence. It’s been in the family’s possession ever since. Greta will cram a history lesson down your throat if she catches you staring at it like that.”
Even his mockery couldn’t fracture the awe in her chest. Fountains with water glittering out like liquid gold because of strategically placed lights, a gazebo with creepers enveloping it, two statues of majestic lions at the sides of the carriage entrance... How could he sound so dismissive and unaffected by his family’s legacy? “I’ve never seen such beautiful gardens.”
“You’d love it in spring when they’re a riot of color. They’re Leonardo’s pride. He personally tends to them along with a team of gardeners. He can make the most reluctant plant blossom. He...loves the land and the villa and the...legacy of it all.”
She was out of breath as they walked up the small, steep path while he simply marched on. “You don’t?” she asked, something in his tone snagging her attention.
“I like being the one who saved it, the one who held it for the Brunettis so that they could show it off for another century,” he added mysteriously.
She frowned, wondering at the contradictions of the man.
Finally, they came around the bend to a square plot that housed the villa itself. A grand entrance portico with wide stairs that sloped toward the lake straddled the villa, which would offer three-sixty-degree views of the lake and the mountains from the grand terrace even now overflowing with guests.
The white stucco facade gleamed under the light thrown from the lake. Nat sucked in a breath as the sounds of music and people chatting in Italian flowed over her skin. A line of luxury cars stood like gatekeepers, tasked with keeping riffraff, like her, out.
She shivered even though the wind coming off the lake was more balmy than cold. Cicadas whispered all around them, the scents from the orangery they’d walked by thick and pungent in the air.
It was a world away from Brooklyn and her cheap studio apartment, a world away from everything she’d ever known.
Through the high arched front entrance, she could see suave men dressed in black suits and refined women dressed in cocktail finery with diamonds glittering at their throats and wrists. Uniformed waiters passing around champagne flutes so fine that Nat wondered if they’d break at the slightest pressure.
She rubbed her sweating palms on her hips, which only brought her attention to her own outfit. A thread of shame filled her chest and she chased it away with much needed anger. God, she’d worked hard for every small thing she owned. To make an honest living for herself and for Frankie.
She felt the heat of Massimo’s body next to her, before she heard the curse from his mouth. Frowning, she craned her neck to see him. Flashes of light revealed the tension in his brow, that perfectly carved jaw so tight that it almost seemed fragile. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was no more inclined to go in than she was.
The suavely sophisticated man who’d taunted her was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a stranger with tension thrumming tightly through his lean frame.
“Massimo?” she whispered, unable to stem the concern she heard in her voice. “Is something wrong?”
“My father is here,” he answered softly, before he blew out another soft curse and shook his head. “He is a bully of the worst kind.”
“Must run in the family, then,” she quipped.
“No.” His soft denial was emphatic enough that her head jerked to him. Glittering gray eyes held hers. “I’m nothing like my father.” He rubbed his jaw, a tell she was beginning to recognize he did when stressed. “Dios mio, I forgot it’s his birthday week. That means Greta checks him out of the rehabilitation clinic and parades him in front of our family and friends in an annual tradition. That means—” his gaze swung to the luxury vehicles “—everyone is here.”
“Your father lives at a clinic?” She’d gotten the sense from him that family was important to him. Yet, he stared at his family’s villa like it was a nest of vipers.
“He’s a recovering alcoholic. The recovery, if we can call it that, has been in progress for a decade now. Leonardo put him there years ago. My brother...he’s the best at eliminating anything that could damage our name, our business. Our legacy.”
The bitterness in his words was unmistakable. “What do you mean your grandmother parades him?”
“You didn’t get the sordid Brunetti history online before you attacked BCS?”
The man changed skins as easily as a chameleon—one minute a charming rogue, the next a cunning businessman determined to make her spill her secrets against her own best interests. “I told you, I knew nothing about who and what you are.”
Hesitation flickered in his eyes, before he cast another glance toward the villa. “If you’re to be exposed to them... My father, for most of my childhood, went on alcohol-f
ueled rampages. He embezzled funds from the company account for his personal use. Affairs with numerous women—both willing and unwilling—lavish parties at the villa... Think of it as a decades-long, out-of-control party that Greta turned away from.
“By the time his misuse of company funds and resources came to Leonardo’s notice, Brunetti Finances, which had once been the leading finance giant in all of Italy, had been on the verge of bankruptcy. A dynasty reduced to nothing but a deck of cards standing on quicksand.
“Leo had to use every inch of his business acumen to stop it from crumbling around our ears. He slogged night and day to get us out from under debt, took control of the board. I designed an e-commerce tool at the same time. He brought in millions in investors, persuaded me to build and release it myself instead of selling the design like I had planned to. I created Brunetti Cyber Securities under the family company’s umbrella and launched the tool. With the revenue from it, we stopped Brunetti Finances from going under.
“Silvio, kicking and screaming, was checked into rehab. My father’s still a powerful man—so many of the investors Leo brought in are of his generation. So...lest the world think we’re any less than the grand dynasty we’re supposed to be, lest they wonder we’re not all one big happy family, we parade him annually and pretend to be his adoring sons.”
Natalie refused to let the stringent quality of his words, something that almost sounded like pain, touch her.
Massimo Brunetti had blackmailed her. He was a ruthless bastard who thought women were for refueling his... He was the scion of a powerful if dysfunctional dynasty; he wouldn’t have even noticed her if she’d fallen at his feet. There was no need to see him as anything but a two-dimensional enemy.
No need to feel this...answering emotion in her chest, this urge to touch him and smooth out his brow.
Nope, nope, nope. So not going there.
She tugged his wrist. “We don’t have to go in, then. It’s not as if you can’t go against their wishes, is it? I mean, you’re a grown man. You run your own company. Who cares if—”
