Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed

by Michelle Smart

  When she gave him her body it would be with the minimum of interaction on her part. She would do what she had to do and nothing more. She would not enjoy it.

  Her phone went off, a distraction she welcomed until she clicked on the link Gabriele had emailed to her.

  A picture of them outside Ramones had been published online. Elena had been dubbed ‘The Convicted Italian Stallion’s Mystery Date’.

  The first seeds of them as a couple had been planted.

  Her identity would be revealed sooner rather than later. Her profile in America was non-existent but all it would take was one Italian to read the article and the world would know who she was.

  She’d have to phone her dad as soon as they got back to Gabriele’s apartment, a thought that made her already tender stomach lurch some more.

  There was no time to worry about it though, as it was time for her makeover. Liana gently persuaded her to change into one of her new outfits rather than slip back into her boyish shorts and T-shirt.

  In the beauty department she was taken into a private room. There, a flamboyant man named Adrian, who had the most perfectly plucked eyebrows, sat her onto a high stool and studied her face.

  ‘Your eyes!’ he exclaimed. ‘They are to die for. And your lips...are they natural?’

  At her puzzled expression he said, ‘No fillers?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No work at all?’

  ‘No.’

  He sighed. ‘A natural beauty. Your face is a blank canvas for me to enhance. But first...’ He lifted the lank strands of her hair. ‘First we do something to this.’

  For the next hour her hair was washed, snipped and dried by yet another stylist, all the while Adrian and Liana chatted to her and plied her with coffee. They refused to let her see the end result, Adrian explaining that they ‘wanted her to see the whole effect in one go’.

  As he got to work on her face, he gently gave details of what he was doing so she could replicate it for herself.

  When he was done, he took her hand and helped her down, then led her to a floor-length mirror so she could see the final results.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked, smiling widely.

  As she gazed at her reflection, a lump formed in her throat.

  It was her but...not.

  Her hair had never looked so voluminous. The severe fringe she chopped herself when it got too long had been feathered. Layers had been cut into the length, which still fell across her shoulders, but instead of just hanging there now became a frame for a face that belonged to her but one she had never seen before.

  Far from making her look like a clown as she had feared, Adrian’s makeover was surprisingly understated.

  Her eyes, darkened around the rims, gleamed, the black mascara making them appear rounder. Her cheeks had a subtle hint of blush on them, defining her bone structure. Peach lipstick had been applied that made her naturally full lips look even plumper.

  It was hard to believe...

  ‘Is that really me?’ she whispered, her eyes filling. She’d never imagined she could look so feminine. She’d never imagined she could feel so feminine. Not her, the little tomboy.

  Adrian put an arm around her and hugged her to him. ‘Don’t cry. If you don’t like it we can take it off and try another—’

  ‘No,’ she cut him off with a choked laugh. ‘I do like it. I love it. You’re a miracle worker. All of you.’

  He shook his head. ‘Elena, you are exquisite. Now promise me one thing.’

  ‘If I can.’

  ‘Always use blush.’

  Laughing, she threw her arms around him. ‘Thank you.’

  Bags of cosmetics and face creams had been packaged for her, along with her new wardrobe of clothes. Her shopping trip was over and it was time to pay the bill.

  Elena got her credit card out.

  Liana shook her head. ‘Mr Mantegna has made arrangements to pay.’

  About to protest—after all, she was an independent woman, no matter what charge of nepotism Gabriele laid at her door—she had a nice vision of Gabriele receiving the bill. He was the one who insisted she get remodelled. He could foot it.

  And speaking of he...

  Now it was time to face him.

  The heels of the ankle boots she wore gave her a lift in more sense than one. Never mind being two inches taller, she found she held herself taller too as she strode through the main beauty floor with Liana at her side. She didn’t know if she was imagining it but she could feel eyes upon her and had to force herself not to stare at the floor in embarrassment. People never looked twice at her.

  ‘One more thing,’ Liana said suddenly, coming to a halt by the sunglasses section. She considered them for a while before going behind the counter and handing Elena a Cartier box. ‘For when you have to deal with the paparazzi,’ she said with a knowing smile.

  Elena thanked her and put the box in one of the bags containing the cosmetics she was already looking forward to experimenting with.

  As much as she told herself that she couldn’t care less what Gabriele thought of her makeover, her heart galloped when Liana opened the door to the private waiting room and Gabriele looked up from the laptop he was working on.

  His brown-black eyes widened, and he half rose, the laptop almost falling onto the floor in the process.

  After six hours in the department store, Gabriele had been prepared for Elena to come out looking better than she had before. After all, she could hardly present herself any worse. He would have had to be blind not to see her innate prettiness, even though she clearly couldn’t be bothered to do anything with it, but nothing could have prepared him for the beauty that walked into the room.

  Dio, it was like one of those before and after television programmes his mother had liked to watch.

  A pair of tight pale blue jeans that came halfway up her calves was topped with a long shimmering silver off-the-shoulder top under which were the straps of a purple bra. The clothes themselves were nothing to shout about but put together with clever plum costume jewellery, black ankle boots and a haircut that screamed just got out of bed without having actually just got out of bed...

  It was still Elena the tomboy, but with a very sexy, feminine difference.

  The pretty shell had been burst open and the intrinsic beauty had emerged.

  This was the sexy, beautiful woman he would be marrying in two days.

  Aware of Elena and Liana both waiting expectantly for his reaction, he closed his laptop and got to his feet.

  ‘Tesoro, you look wonderful,’ he said. ‘Did you have a good day?’

  ‘Lovely thank you,’ she replied with a sweet smile that didn’t fool him for a second.

  ‘You deserve it, you work so hard.’

  After satisfying himself that all her purchases were being sent to his apartment, Gabriele led Elena out of the store and to his waiting car at the back.

  Once they were settled and the driver was making his way through the heavy Manhattan traffic, Gabriele twisted round to look again at Elena.

  The unexpected but very welcome news he’d received that afternoon that a senior member of Ignazio’s closest team could possibly be bought now took second place to the woman beside him.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and there was an air about her he couldn’t put his finger on.

  ‘You did enjoy it,’ he stated shrewdly. Now they were alone they could go back to being honest with each other.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I hadn’t realised shopping could be fun.’

  ‘How do you normally buy clothes?’

  ‘I dive in and out of the shop and hope whatever I’ve chosen fits.’

  ‘You’re the only daughter from a family with three sons. Why weren’t you dressed
as a princess?’

  She shrugged. ‘I always wanted to be a boy like my brothers. I hated that being a girl made me different.’

  ‘Why did it make you different?’

  She pulled a face that conveyed she thought he was an idiot for asking.

  ‘I don’t have siblings,’ he reminded her. ‘All my cousins are boys. Those kind of family dynamics are not something I’ve experienced.’

  ‘Girls are considered more delicate than boys. Weaker. More prone to tears.’

  He considered this. ‘I think the tears thing is true...’

  She sucked in an outraged breath.

  ‘But as for being more delicate, that’s bull,’ he finished. ‘Women are different from men, that’s a biological fact but the kind of delicacy you’re talking about doesn’t exist.’

  ‘I know that. I’ve spent my entire life proving it.’

  ‘How? By acting like a man?’

  ‘How else could I be taken seriously?’ she demanded. ‘The only way I was able to gain my brothers’ respect was by being one of the boys.’

  ‘So it wasn’t through choice?’

  ‘I wanted to be like them. I didn’t know how to be a girl and had no interest in learning.’

  ‘Do you think it would have made any difference if your mother had lived and been there to guide you?’

  Her eyes met his. ‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember her.’

  ‘That’s a real shame,’ he eventually replied, remembering the Swedish woman who’d always had a ready smile on her face and a batch of meatballs on the go. Elena could only have been two when she died. ‘She was a nice woman.’

  Her brows drew together. ‘You knew her?’

  ‘Of course. Our families were friends. Our mothers were very close.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’ A burst of fire sparked in her eyes and she leaned towards him fiercely. ‘If they were such good friends I would imagine your mother will be very disappointed with you when she learns that you’re forcing me to marry you.’

  ‘We will never know. She has dementia. My father’s death accelerated the process. There are days she doesn’t even know who I am.’ Something else he absolutely blamed her father for and, by extension, Elena herself.

  Her latent beauty might now have pushed to the surface but that was all it was: surface.

  Beneath the skin she was a Ricci to her core and he would never allow himself to forget it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ELENA WAS MIGHTILY relieved to go straight to her father’s voicemail.

  ‘Hi, Papà, it’s me. I’m in New York, finally taking that holiday you keep nagging me about.’ She injected a false laugh, meeting Gabriele’s eye.

  He was watching her from the dining room table, his expression inscrutable.

  ‘You’ll never believe who I bumped into last night—Alfredo Mantegna’s son.’ She cleared her throat before ploughing on. ‘I’ve decided to stay in New York for the week and do some sightseeing. Christie will be running things for me. Hope you’re well. Ciao.’

  Done, she disconnected the call, then, for good measure, turned the phone off and stuffed it in her favourite of the designer handbags Liana had selected for her, then faced him with her chin up.

  ‘Well? Was that convincing enough?’

  ‘On a scale of one to ten I’d give it a five,’ he drawled, rising to his feet. ‘Let’s see how you perform this evening—see if we can get it to an eight.’

  Tonight they were going to dine at another paparazzi-encamped restaurant, a thought that thrilled her as much as swimming in a shark-infested pool. Since their return from shopping, she’d checked the Internet a dozen times to see if her name was out there but so far, nothing.

  Throwing him a brittle smile, which more than spoke the caustic response she wanted to give, Elena slung her handbag over her shoulder and headed to the elevator.

  Inside, she surreptitiously checked her appearance.

  She was pleased to see the magic Adrian had done to her face was mostly still intact. Scared of damaging his work, all she’d done for their evening out was apply some more of the lipstick she had taken the lid off a dozen times to smell—who knew cosmetics smelt so good?—and spritzed some perfume onto her neck and wrists. She’d changed out of the jeans into a pair of bright red straight-legged trousers and a pair of silver sandals with a low pointy heel, but had opted to keep on the shimmering top she loved so much.

  Gabriele’s only remark had been to say, ‘That is a definite improvement on last night.’

  Except the look in his eyes had said something else.

  For the first time she wished she had some experience with men, something that would allow her to translate Gabriele’s unspoken expressions. All she had was gut instinct but that was becoming unreliable. All she felt when he looked at her was a feeling she couldn’t quite interpret but which she was terrified meant nothing but trouble.

  Her response had been a glare and a, ‘I’m delighted I meet your approval.’

  She didn’t believe for a second that he was attracted to her.

  All Gabriele wanted was what she could give him. He wanted her body. Not her core. Not her soul. He wanted Ignazio’s daughter. If she’d had sisters, any of them would have served his purpose equally well.

  Now, catching his eye in the mirror, she quickly looked away, but not before she caught the expression she’d seen earlier, when she’d been presented to him like a fully made-over doll.

  That strange feeling stirred in her stomach again.

  He doesn’t want you.

  And neither did she want him. She could never want someone so cruel.

  When they reached the ground floor, he turned to her. ‘Ready?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good.’ Smiling broadly, he took her hand and led her out into the Manhattan night for the second time.

  Her pulse kicked into life.

  This was the first time he’d properly touched her skin other than that fleeting kiss earlier.

  His hand was enormous, swallowing hers like a giant paw.

  His driver was ready for them.

  Thankful to be able to shake her hand out of Gabriele’s so she could get into the open back door, she sat down and pressed her hands between her thighs, wiping away the moisture that had sprung on her palms.

  They rode in silence, the darkened glass dividing them from his driver meaning they didn’t have to fake conversation or adoration.

  Traffic was lighter than the night before but it still took them twenty minutes to arrive at the restaurant Gabriele had chosen for them.

  The second the driver opened her door, Elena knew her identity had been discovered.

  Lights flashed in her face, blinding her with their brilliance.

  Gabriele took charge, getting out first and marching through the waiting paparazzi, to take her hand. Placing a protective arm around her waist, he led her inside.

  Totally unprepared for a siege, she shrank into him, horrified at such behaviour and the shouts being called out as the horde yelled questions about their relationship.

  They were led straight to their table. When they were sitting down and facing each other, she was astonished to see a look of satisfaction on Gabriele’s face.

  ‘You enjoyed that?’ she asked.

  His eyes gleamed but there was a fury contained within them.

  ‘I’ve dealt with much worse. And their presence here—they were waiting for us, in case you hadn’t realised—guarantees that your father will have his morning coffee seeing pictures of you held in my arms.’

  It was at that precise moment she understood Gabriele genuinely believed her father had set Alfredo up.

  The hate he had for her family was built, at least in his own mind, on so
lid foundations.

  He’d taken the rap to protect Alfredo but could not allow himself to believe in his father’s guilt. He was in denial. Rather than accept the truth he’d pointed the finger at her father.

  Which meant that Gabriele himself was innocent of the crimes he’d spent two years in prison for.

  Was it possible he was right about Alfredo’s innocence too...?

  No, she couldn’t believe that. Because that would mean he was right about her own father and she just could not believe her father would commit fraud and set his oldest friend up to take the fall.

  She wasn’t naïve enough to think her father had never cut corners in his life but what Gabriele was accusing him of?

  No. It just couldn’t be.

  ‘Elena?’

  His voice broke her out of her trance.

  He leaned forward and murmured, ‘Adoration, tesoro, adoration.’

  Taking a deep breath to clear the unwarranted thoughts, she rested her chin on her hand and gazed at him.

  And, as she stared into those soulful dark eyes, she couldn’t help but think that should he be anyone other than he was—a vengeful blackmailer—looking at him with adoration would be no hardship at all.

  * * *

  Elena had been locked in the bathroom for so long Gabriele wondered if she’d drowned in the shower.

  He had to give it to her; she’d performed admirably that night.

  All evening she’d kept her eyes on his, fluttering her lashes, laughing and smiling. She’d even managed not to flinch too overtly whenever he’d taken her hand. No other diner in the restaurant would be in any doubt that they were a couple very much enjoying each other’s company.

  When Elena finally came out of the bathroom he wasn’t surprised to find her wearing her oversized pyjamas rather than the sexy sleepwear Liana had selected for her and which she’d put away in her dressing room earlier with her other purchases.

  ‘Do you have a preference to which side you like to sleep?’ he asked from his vantage point in the middle of the bed.

  She shook her head, shuffling with obvious trepidation to him.

  ‘I’ll take the right side, then.’ He moved over.