by Lynne Graham
The breeding stables he had established with the support of the Brazilian staff he had brought in were already doing very well. Freddie had taken a Montessori diploma course during the months that Zac was travelling most, knowing it would be useful to her when she was raising three children. Her aunt, Claire, had married her boyfriend earlier that year and Zac and Freddie had flown out to the wedding in Spain.
Jazz, now the Queen of Lerovia, strolled out of the house with her twins, Abramo and Chiara, tucked into a double buggy and walked over to join Freddie with the lack of ceremony that Freddie liked most about Zac’s family. They all visited each other’s homes, they all relaxed in those homes as if they were their own and, in making that effort to stay in regular contact, their husbands were getting closer and their children were growing up together.
‘Where’s Merry?’ Freddie enquired sleepily.
‘She decided to take a nap while Cosmas is down for his,’ Jazz told her, for Merry’s second child was a newborn and had not yet settled into a regular sleep pattern. ‘And Vitale and Angel are hanging around the barbecue with Charles acting like grilling a hamburger is rocket science. Sybil’s with them too.’
Merry’s grandmother was Charles’s girlfriend and rarely strayed from his side.
‘It’s so wonderfully peaceful here.’ Jazz sighed, sinking down into a seat in the shade.
‘Famous last words!’ Freddie laughed as the racket of a helicopter disturbed the peace.
‘Zac?’
‘I hope so.’ Freddie peered up at the sky but couldn’t read the logo and then the craft circled and lowered, making identification unnecessary.
‘Go and meet him,’ Jazz urged. ‘I’ll watch Antonella.’
Freddie pelted at speed across the grass towards the helipad. Zac had been touring the mines in South Africa and Russia for two weeks and each week had felt like a month. Late-night phone calls hadn’t made up for his absence. Zac sprang out of the helicopter and she raced into his arms.
‘Missed you so much!’ She gasped as he grabbed her up into his arms, the familiar scent and feel of him washing over her like a healing drug.
‘And I missed you too,’ Zac groaned, staring down at her smiling face with a wealth of love and appreciation.
He tasted her ripe pink mouth with sexy, hungry brevity and gazed down at her with devouring crystalline eyes.
‘No, we can’t,’ she told him as if he had asked a question, scanning his lean, darkly handsome features with a heady combination of longing and admiration. ‘Later.’
‘Why do we have two nannies?’ Zac breathed in exasperation.
‘We have your family here. Right now, we’re hosts and we are not sneaking off like randy teenagers,’ she declared. ‘Lift a beer and be sociable round the barbecue instead.’
‘I want you so much,’ Zac husked in Portuguese and she could feel her bones turning to water, but at the same time she was also remembering the cracks the last time they had disappeared at such an event and the ensuing embarrassment. Sadly, Zac didn’t get embarrassed about stuff of that nature. ‘And I promise to make you very, very happy.’
‘You always do,’ she muttered as they returned to Jazz and the three babies.
‘I was expecting you two to disappear,’ Jazz told them cheerfully. ‘You’re famous for that.’
‘Well, we’ve grown up a bit,’ Freddie told her sister-in-law piously.
‘You may have,’ Zac said levelly. ‘But I haven’t.’
And with that statement, Zac swung Freddie up into his arms and carried her indoors, impervious to Angel taunting him from the barbecue. Ignoring her protests, he carried her upstairs to their bedroom and fell down on the bed with her, lamenting that she would need to go on a diet before he would try that again. Freddie thumped him with a pillow and then, suddenly, he was flattening her to the mattress and gazing down at her with an urgency that sent heat coursing through her lower limbs.
‘I love you so much, meu pequenino,’ he told her with raw sincerity. ‘It’s hell being away from you for so long.’
And at that admission, Freddie melted, breathlessly telling him how much she loved him while frantically tearing him out of his jeans in a generous invitation that Zac greeted with all the potent virility he could demonstrate. Freddie showered him with love and he never tired of her warmth.
‘I think we should have a marriage blessing to make up for our catastrophic wedding day,’ Zac told her afterwards, lying with Freddie wrapped in bliss in his strong arms. ‘I’ve also torn up the pre-nup agreement. It wasn’t fair enough to you and you signed it under duress.’
They both had a healthy appetite by the time they joined the barbecue. Zac was mobbed by the kids because he always played with them and expectations ran high.
‘Freedom was never this much fun,’ Zac told her before he ran off to play football with Eloise and Jack.
And with a contented sigh, Freddie cradled Antonella and sat with the new family she had gained, while marvelling in Zac’s energy levels, because he had travelled for hours to get back in time for his daughter’s birthday. But then that energy went into everything Zac did, she conceded, including his persistent pursuit of her. And she couldn’t stop smiling at the acknowledgement that what had most annoyed her about Zac when they first met was truly his saving grace.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed DA ROCHA’S CONVENIENT HEIR you’re sure to enjoy the first two parts of Lynne Graham’s VOWS FOR BILLIONAIRES miniseries
THE SECRET VALTINOS BABY
CASTIGLIONE’S PREGNANT PRINCESS
And as part of the WEDLOCKED! miniseries
CLAIMED FOR THE LEONELLI LEGACY
HIS QUEEN BY DESERT DECREE
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TYCOON’S SCANDALOUS PROPOSITION by Miranda Lee.
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The Tycoon’s Scandalous Proposition
by Miranda Lee
CHAPTER ONE
BLAKE STOOD NEXT to the groom, wondering what the hell he was doing, being best man at this wedding. He knew this marriage wouldn’t last—knew it was just a matter of time.
He’d tried to reason with Lachlan. But nothing could dissuade him. Not even Blake’s argument that he himself had married at the same age—twenty-four—and the marriage hadn’t lasted six months.
At least the bride wasn’t an actress, Blake reasoned more positively. Also on the plus side, it wa
sn’t as though marriage—even a temporary one—harmed a movie star’s popularity these days. Gone were the days when the powerbrokers of Hollywood had dictated who a star could marry. And when.
The rise of social media had changed all that. The public couldn’t get enough of celebrity relationships. They especially enjoyed break-ups and divorces, and any whiff of scandal. Such was life in the spotlight.
Thankfully Blake’s own life wasn’t so much in the spotlight—though he’d gained a little more attention in the press since moving Fantasy Productions from Sydney to LA fifteen months ago. Still, movie-makers—even very successful, very wealthy ones like himself—didn’t grab the headlines the way actors did. Especially those like Lachlan, with his golden boy looks, buffed body and bedroom blue eyes. Add to that buckets of boyish charm and you had a prize publicity package.
Blake had first recognised Lachlan’s potential when he’d attended a performance at Australia’s much lauded National Institute of Dramatic Art a few years ago. He’d instantly signed him up. And the rest, as they said, was history. Three years and four movies later Lachlan was an established star, whilst he’d become Australia’s most successful film writer/director/producer.
Blake suspected, however, that their working relationship would not last for much longer. It was only a matter of time before something—like this marriage—would make his star move on.
‘There she is,’ Lachlan whispered suddenly, snapping Blake out of his cynical thoughts.
Blake followed the groom’s enthralled gaze past the seated guests and up the sweeping staircase down which the bride would eventually descend, and into the large living area, which had been filled with several rows of chairs divided by a strip of red carpet.
Blake spied a froth of white up on the gallery landing. White dress, white hair, white flowers. Behind the bride, attending to the long white veil, bustled the one and only bridesmaid, wearing something long and svelte in jade-green. Blake couldn’t see her properly—didn’t have a clue who she was. He hadn’t even met the bride, having been too busy with his latest movie, plus several other new projects, to fly back to Australia for Lachlan’s engagement party, and only jetting in to Sydney late last night.
The only contribution Blake had made to this wedding had been getting billionaire Byron Maddox—who was a good friend as well as a business partner—to offer his very lovely harbour-side home as a venue for the wedding and the reception afterwards.
The original venue had rather inconveniently burnt down six weeks ago, throwing Lachlan into a panic after getting a phone call on location from his hysterical bride-to-be.
Thank heaven for rich friends, Blake thought, and threw Byron and Cleo a grateful glance.
When they smiled back at him his own face cracked open into a wide smile. God, but they were a great couple. If ever a man and woman were made for each other it was those two. They almost made him believe in true love.
Finally some music started up. Not a traditional bridal march but a rather romantic piano rendition of ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’.
It was at that moment that the bridesmaid in jade-green moved round from behind the Barbie doll bride and came into full view.
Blake’s dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. She wasn’t a stunner. But she was extremely attractive. Tall, with a slender figure and pale skin which suited the off-the-shoulder style of her gown. Her hair was a golden-brown colour, drawn straight back from her high forehead and falling in a softly waved curtain down her back, held in place by a simple circlet of pink and white flowers. It was her face, however, which Blake kept returning to—a face any camera would love.
Blake had a habit of looking at faces as though through a lens, especially on a first meeting. It was a long-ingrained habit, and one which didn’t do any harm, really. No one knew what he was thinking at the time, so Blake didn’t feel any guilt as he continued to assess the bridesmaid’s looks from every camera angle.
He knew from experience that high cheekbones and a well-defined jawline photographed well in any light and from any angle. This woman’s nose wasn’t starlet-small, but it suited her, giving her face character. She didn’t have pouting bee-stung lips either, although it was all the fad these days. Her mouth was actually rather wide, but still well formed. And expressive. So were her almond-shaped eyes.
Blake frowned as he tried to fathom the reason behind the sadness he kept glimpsing within their dark brown depths as she made her way slowly—and stiffly—down the staircase. Along with the sadness lay undeniable tension, he noted. Her knuckles were white as she clasped the posy of pink and white flowers at her waist with unnecessary force.
At last she reached the bottom step. It was at this point that she sucked in a deep breath, as though trying to gather all her courage. The gesture touched him, evoking an uncharacteristic surge of compassion. Something was bothering that girl about this wedding—something much more emotional and personal than Blake’s cynical view.
‘Who’s the bridesmaid?’ Blake muttered under his breath, so that only Lachlan could hear.
‘What? Oh, that’s Kate. Maddie’s sister.’
‘Older sister?’
‘Older? Yeah. God, doesn’t Maddie look incredible?’ he exclaimed, clearly awed by the beauty of his bride, who remained standing at the top of the staircase, all eyes on her.
Not Blake’s, however. He’d had his fill of Barbie doll blondes—especially those manufactured in Hollywood by plastic surgeons and ambitious mamas. His eyes were all for the bridesmaid, with her natural-looking figure and lovely but oh, so sad eyes.
Her chin lifted as she took her first step along the makeshift aisle, her focus straight ahead during what seemed to be a very difficult journey for her. She didn’t look at him, or at Lachlan, or at any of the guests. She seemed frozen now—a robot with no feelings on show any more. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Smile, sweetheart, came the sudden wish from deep inside Blake. Don’t let the world see that you’re hurting. Don’t give people the chance to hurt you further.
And they would if she let them. People could be cruel—especially once they’d sensed weakness. Fortunately, no one was looking at her. All eyes were still on the beaming bride, who was now approaching the bottom of the staircase. The music changed to ‘Isn’t She Beautiful?’ Which the bride was. Even Blake had to agree that Maddie was drop-dead gorgeous. But such beauty was often only surface-deep, he’d found, the same way Lachlan’s was.
The same way Claudia’s was...
The thought didn’t hurt him the way it once had. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten the lessons his one and only marriage had taught him.
The main one was, Don’t, for pity’s sake, believe anything that ambitious young actresses do or say to you. Sleep with them, by all means, but don’t fall for their flattery or their brilliant fakery. And never marry one. Lord, no.
In truth, marriage was not for him—even with a non-ambitious non-actress. Not yet, anyway. Aside from his scepticism over the lasting power of romantic love, he wasn’t good husband material. He was way too obsessed with making movies, working seven days a week, often twenty hours a day. What time did that leave for a wife, let alone children?
Maybe when he was forty he might consider both. But he was only just thirty-two. Plenty of years left to think about such things.
Meanwhile, his attention returned to the attractive but bleak-looking bridesmaid.
Damn. She looked as if she was going to cry now. Her bottom lip was definitely quivering, accompanied by a flash of true panic in her eyes. Clearly she didn’t want to cry. Just in time she got control of herself, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in another deep, desperate breath.
Blake wondered what on earth was going on in that girl’s mind. He knew that women often cried at weddings, but they were usually tears of happiness. He could be wrong, he supposed, but he w
as absolutely certain that whatever she was thinking they weren’t happy thoughts!
Maybe this Kate knew what sort of man her kid sister was marrying—knew that he was a player. Maybe she feared for Maddie’s future happiness. Well, she had a right to be scared on that particular score! Not that he could be a hundred percent positive that was the reason behind her grim face. He could only guess.
In actual fact Blake often found himself speculating on the various emotions he noted on the faces of perfect strangers. He was a people-watcher—an essential talent for a writer-cum-movie-maker. After all, motivations and emotional conflicts were the backbone of all storytelling.
His gaze returned to Kate’s stiffly held face and robotic walk. At last she reached the end of the aisle, flashing him a frowning glance before moving sideways to her left, where no one could see her face except the celebrant. And he was busy ogling the bride. Now all Blake could see was her profile. Her head and shoulders drooped for a split second, then lifted abruptly, the muscles in her throat standing out as she once again took rigid control of herself.
His heart went out to her. As did his admiration. Whatever was bothering the bride’s sister, she was a brave soul. Brave, but still rather fragile.
When the posy of flowers she was holding began to shake Blake determined not to let the evening end before he found out what was upsetting her so much. He could be charming when he wanted to be. And quite good at getting people to open up. Yes, he would worm the truth out of her. Women did love to confide. And hopefully, sooner rather than later, he would bring a smile to her face.
He imagined she would be quite lovely if she smiled. Already Blake found her attractive. And intriguing. And extremely desirable.
