by Annie West
THE ITALIAN'S
BOLD RECKONING
Annie West
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events, businesses, companies, institutions or locations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2017 by Annie West
Cover Design by The Killion Group
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever, including information storage and or retrieval systems, without the express written permission from the author, Annie West, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Licence notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book with someone else, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
ABOUT ANNIE
EXCERPT FROM ‘AT THE ITALIAN’S BIDDING’
CHAPTER ONE
* * *
The first time Angela saw Matteo De Laurentis after a year’s separation he was kissing another woman.
Well, not kissing, precisely, but it was clear that was what he intended. The beautiful redhead was backed against a crumbling wall in the Venetian alley, with one of those picturesque arched bridges just beyond her.
But Angela barely took in their surroundings. Her staring gaze locked on Matteo’s wide shoulders and the lean strength of that tall body as it hemmed the woman in. He even had one hand braced beside her head, reinforcing his passionate, almost predatory stance. And the redhead, far from seeming threatened, wore an expression that signalled she was ready for his kiss. Ready for anything he demanded of her.
Angela’s heart stalled high in her throat. Shock ripped the air from her lungs.
Shock, it was definitely shock.
It could not be jealousy.
Angela was over him. Had been over him for ages.
So why did her blood rush so fast in her arteries? She tensed, heart pounding, ready to flee. Or perhaps to stalk over, grab Matteo’s shoulder and drag him away from that…female. And then she’d—
What?
Slap him?
Yell at him?
Wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him till he didn’t know what day it was? Till he gathered her close and whispered she was the only woman he wanted, the only woman he’d ever want?
As if.
Angela swallowed convulsively but couldn’t dislodge the bitter tang of hurt, and of shattered, foolish dreams.
The strength of her emotions stunned her. She’d convinced herself she’d washed her hands of him.
She had to put out a hand to the stone wall for support, her palm registering chill dampness and crumbling grit. A little like her relationship with Matteo, she thought with a grimace — cold and disintegrating. For surely this punch of emotion to the belly was an aberration. He felt nothing for her and soon she’d be calm and in control of herself.
She’d better be, or her time in Venice would be torture.
‘Cut!’ The deep voice resonated in the narrow alley.
Instantly there was movement, a murmur of voices, people going about their jobs. The lights were dimmed, the camera stopped and someone moved forward with a warm cloak to wrap around the redhead’s creamy, bare shoulders. Because it wouldn’t do to have one of the film’s stars come down with a chill.
Angela barely noticed. Her attention was on Matteo. He’d dropped the arm that imprisoned his co-star against the wall, but he hadn’t moved away. They were engrossed in a murmured discussion Angela couldn’t hear.
But the fact they stood so close, their heads inclined together, their body language intimate, made raw hurt gouge through her insides.
Angela shut her eyes, willing the pain away. This could not be happening. She was a professional. Here only to work.
Her relationship with Matteo had been over for twelve months, since the day she’d learned he’d been unfaithful.
She’d known this job was going to be tough. Had fought against coming here till every avenue had been cut off and she had no choice but to obey the summons. Now, with no options left, she had to be strong. Immune. Professional.
Her eyes snapped open just as Matteo turned his head and caught sight of her.
Electricity jolted through her, making her muscles tighten, her soles tingle and her nipples peak. Even from this distance his dark blue eyes had a magnetic quality, making it impossible to turn away.
Was it imagination or did he tense too, his conversation momentarily faltering? Certainly he stilled long enough that his companion turned her head to look. Angela had known Gina Moretti was beautiful. She’d seen the photos. But in the flesh she was exquisite.
Angela’s pulse thrummed fiercely, as if daring her to stride over there and plant herself between the pair.
But you gave up any right to him a year ago, didn’t you? And good riddance. He’s not the man for you.
‘ Angela? Is that you?’
She turned to see one of the cameramen beside her. A tall, skinny guy with a sweet smile.
‘Davide! I didn’t know you were working on this film. It’s lovely to see you again.’ Genuine pleasure helped her fix a smile on her face. She and Davide had met years before on what had been the first film for the pair of them. Both introverts with a shared sense of the ridiculous, they’d soon bonded.
‘And you.’ His smile slipped. ‘I was sorry to hear about your mother. It sounds like it’s been a tough time.’ His gaze darted towards the bridge where the actors stood, then quickly back.
‘Thank you, Davide.’ Angela put her hand on his arm. It felt good to know there was at least one person on set she could relax with. ‘It has been tough.’ With a conscious effort she stopped herself from glancing towards Matteo. ‘She died too young, but she didn’t suffer. And now I’m back, ready to work.’
If only she could hang onto that, she’d get through even this trial. Right now her work was all she had, and after months when she’d been unable to concentrate on stringing words together, much less writing a viable screenplay, her recent return to writing was a blessing.
All she had to do was get this job out of the way and then she could get back to the new project she’d started, the one she hoped would help her recover from her emotional and writing slump.
‘So what have you been up to? Did I hear you worked on that job in Palermo?’
Davide’s smile turned to a grin. ‘I did. And everything went wrong from the first day. It’s a wonder we ever finished. I’ll tell you over a drink if you like.’
‘Sounds great. I’ll have to check my schedule of script meetings but then I’m yours.’
*
Matteo’s scalp prickled. And his nape and shoulders. Ants crawled across his back. Even his legs tingled. He fought the urge to whip his head around and instead focused on his stance, on Gina, on the story they were telling together.
But his concentration was shot. Something had changed, the atmosphere grew charged and it had nothing to do with the faux passion between him
and Gina.
This was visceral. Matteo felt the drag of tension deep in his gut and knew she’d come. At last!
He’d waited for this day so long. He needed…
Belatedly he became aware that Gina’s expression had changed as she’d picked up his tension.
Hell! The scene had been going so well. Now he’d killed it.
‘Cut!’ One thing about being director as well as actor, he had a level of control that had been missing before.
If he wanted he could stride over to Angela — he knew she was here, watching him, he sensed it in every taut nerve — and drag her away for the private discussion they had to have. But that would show his hand, and his desperation. He had no intention of revealing that and losing his slight advantage now he finally had her almost where he wanted her.
He’d worked too long and too hard to get her here.
‘Everything okay, Matteo?’ Gina frowned up at him, concern clear in her gorgeous face.
It struck him anew that despite her beauty, he felt nothing for her but friendship and respect. Absolutely nothing.
‘Fine. Just got distracted. I’m sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘These things happen. But I think it’s going well so far, don’t you? The story is excellent and it feels…right.’
Matteo nodded. The story was excellent. Angela should be proud of it. Instead she’d been hiding on the other side of the world, refusing to participate in the pre-shoot collaboration till absolutely forced by the contract lawyers.
‘It’s early days, but yes, I’m hopeful.’ Just as well. He’d sunk most of his savings and a lot of investors’ money into this, his first foray into directing. True, some of the investors, like his eldest brother, Luca, and Matteo’s best friend, Niccolo Marchesi, were extremely wealthy, but Matteo was determined to produce a film that would reward their faith in him.
There was one person whose faith in him seemed to have died completely. But that was another matter and he had a plan to deal with it.
Unable to resist any longer, he turned.
There she was, watching him. Reaction smacked him square in the gut. It was like taking a step onto a bridge and finding it wasn’t there, that instead he was in freefall.
She was gorgeous. More gorgeous than he remembered.
He’d fallen for a woman who hid her natural beauty, who dressed in neutral colours as if trying to blend into the background. But Matteo had seen beneath the camouflage.
There was no camouflage now. She wore a jacket the colour of amber that glowed like a beacon in the shadows of the alley. Long boots and closely-fitted jeans hugged her slim legs, making her a magnet for any red-blooded male.
Her face was flawless, her eyes wide and those lips… Matteo shivered, recalling the taste of her pouting mouth, and the wicked, wicked things she’d done with it. She might be reserved with strangers, but Angela was a passionate woman.
His heart clenched.
How he’d missed her!
He couldn’t believe they’d come to this, after all they’d meant to each other. He’d been reduced to using her contractual obligations to get her in the same city as him!
‘Matteo? Are you okay?’
‘Of course.’ He turned to Gina, now shrugging into warmer clothes. ‘We’re finished here. Why don’t you head back?’
Her gaze strayed over his shoulder and he read her curiosity, but Gina merely nodded and turned away.
Hauling much-needed air into his lungs, Matteo turned and instantly froze. Angela had her arm on the cameraman’s arm. She was leaning in, smiling at him.
Matteo wanted to break the guy’s legs and throw him in the canal!
Another breath, deeper this time, as he pulled on an expression of calm. But his stride was quick as he crossed to the pair.
Each step revealed something new. Her hair, once light brown with warm honey tints, was now sleeker, a pale blonde. She’d grown it too. It fell in tempting waves past her shoulders, down towards her pert breasts. At her throat, on a narrow black ribbon, glinted a golden heart locket.
Matteo’s gaze narrowed on it. Who’d given it to her? Whose photo rested inside?
The instant fizz of fury propelled him forward, just in time to hear her say to the scrawny cameraman, ‘But then I’m yours.’.
Like hell she was!
Matteo had prepared for this meeting carefully. He’d planned to be calm and relaxed, putting her at ease, charming her into trusting him. But all that flew out the window when she looked up into Davide’s dazzled eyes with the sort of smile she’d once reserved for Matteo.
Before the cameraman could speak Matteo stepped between them, his hand shooting out to encircle her wrist, warm and fragile, tugging it away from the other man.
Instantly she drew a sharp, hissing breath. Her head swung round, eyes widening and pupils dilating as she saw him. Those soft brown eyes had once, too long ago, looked adoringly at him. And he, like a fool, had thought they always would.
Matteo had learned his lesson. He took nothing for granted anymore.
‘Hello, Angela.’ His face felt tight as he smiled. Was he smiling or grimacing? He didn’t give a damn.
He turned to the lanky crew member who, up till this point, he’d been so pleased to have work on this project. Now Matteo wished him to the devil, despite his cinematic skill.
All trace of a smile disintegrated as he stared at the other man. ‘I see you already know my wife.’
CHAPTER TWO
* * *
His wife!
Angela flung open the lid of her suitcase and grabbed a pile of neatly folded clothes. She stalked across the vast, opulent room and pulled open an antique door, looking for the wardrobe. Instead she found a palatial dressing room, with sleek modern shelves and endless hanging spaces.
She shoved her clothes onto a random shelf and pivoted on her heel.
Matteo had referred to her as his wife, just as if he hadn’t received her request for a divorce. The paparazzi who’d snooped around for a story behind their separation would have a field day if they heard that. But more, Matteo had her checked into this extraordinary private hotel that was more like a palace than a place for a cash-strapped screenwriter.
The walls were hung in exquisite eau de nil silk. The wide tester bed was topped with a gilt crown from which hung matching silk. Antiques, elegant and perfectly positioned, turned the room into a suite fit for royalty. Even the fresh flowers in their crystal vases were so gorgeous it was a shame she’d be the only one to see them.
When she was met at the vaporetto stop on the Grand Canal, fresh off the plane, she’d been only too grateful to relinquish her luggage, not knowing it would be taken somewhere like this. Having it taken on ahead had been a luxury, for dragging a heavy case over the quaint cobbled streets wasn’t fun. Besides, despite herself, she’d been eager to detour and catch a glimpse of the filming.
Angela’s step faltered in the doorway of the dressing room and she sagged against the door frame.
Face the truth.
You wanted to see Matteo.
Even now, even after his betrayal. Even knowing the pair of you were never meant to be together.
Her heart crashed against her ribs and her knees turned to jelly as the full impact of this afternoon took its toll.
She’d taken one look at Matteo and all her fine self-talk about independence and strength had vanished.
The old, terrible yearning was back full force.
Angela squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t want a man who’d betrayed her.
But at the same time she remembered how she’d withdrawn from him before that. She hadn’t been much of a wife for him, had she? The further he’d invited her into his glamorous world, the more uncomfortable she’d become. Wooden, stilted, nervous — she’d hated the way she froze in front of the paparazzi cameras and couldn’t find a thing to say to interviewers or to Matteo’s socialite friends.
She’d even retreated from him, sure he’d soon realis
e he’d made a mistake insisting on their whirlwind marriage. For if she withdrew first, then surely their inevitable separation wouldn’t hurt as much. It was a lesson she’d learned from her distant, domineering father.
But it hadn’t worked out like that, had it?
Bitterness tasted sharp on her tongue as she recalled Matteo’s then co-star on the final day of shooting just over a year ago. Her platinum blonde hair was rumpled, her lips swollen and lipstick smeared. And she’d worn nothing, absolutely nothing, beneath her silk robe as she stepped out of Matteo’s trailer. She’d stumbled on the bottom step and the robe had parted, leaving Angela in no doubt of that. Besides, the cat-that-got-the-cream smile on Vittoria’s face as she met Angela’s frozen stare had said it all.
Angela pressed a palm to her writhing stomach. Just as well she’d missed lunch, or she’d probably bring it up.
She’d found Matteo De Laurentis heart-stoppingly attractive and hadn’t been able to resist him. But that was only one side of Matteo. Behind the gloss and glamour he was intense, hard-working and surprisingly down-to-earth.
She hadn’t been the right wife for a movie star who attracted the press wherever he went and whose smile made women the world over swoon.
But nor had she deserved infidelity.
She straightened her shoulders and stood tall, forcing herself to cross the room and unpack.
There’d been faults on both sides. The marriage was a mistake. A complete mismatch. The only sensible thing was to end it.
Stoically, Angela ignored the hollow feeling inside, as if her body caved in on itself. She’d get through this, do the work necessary on the screenplay and leave.
She caught sight of herself in a huge mirror edged with silver gilt. Beneath her brave, bright jacket and the new look, Angela was still the shy, geekish introvert she’d always been. Holding her own against Matteo’s forceful personality and his raw charisma would be hard. But she’d toughened up this last year. She could do it.
