by Tara Pammi
“Would you deny me the chance to right my wrongs? Would you deny me the pleasure of showing off my granddaughter to the world? The chance to find a man worthy of her among the vultures?”
By sheer dint of his will, Raphael kept his shock to himself. He’d been right. Giovanni intended to buy a prince for Pia. And hand her over lock, stock and barrel. Along with his shares.
He couldn’t care. He didn’t.
“That’s up to you. Just...don’t give her any more money. Not until I confirm her claim.”
“You do what you have to do, Raphael. Who knows, maybe she’ll take my seat on the board?”
He wouldn’t, however, watch years of his hard work being thrown away. “She’s an elementary school science teacher and you want to throw her into the shark-infested pool that is the VA board? They’ll pick the meat off her bones.”
“She will have you to advise her and guide her.”
He stood up, and put away his wineglass. “I have neither the time nor the patience to teach that woman anything. I have enough on my plate with Alyssa, with the company, and now I find out that—” he bit off the last part. Giovanni had always had a soft spot for his stepdaughter, who happened to be Raphael’s ex-wife and Alyssa’s mother. He didn’t want Gio sticking his head in Raphael’s business just as he wanted nothing to do with Pia.
“As long as you keep her away from VA, I don’t care if you sign away your entire fortune to her.”
Giovanni watched as his godson walked out. His breath left on a sigh of satisfaction.
By the time he was through, neither Raphael nor Pia would like him very much. But he didn’t care. There was only one man to whom he would trust his granddaughter’s well-being. Just as he had trusted only one man with his precious company.
CHAPTER FOUR
PIA STOOD OUTSIDE Raphael’s imposing set of offices on the tenth floor of Vito Automobiles in front of his assistants’ desks—apparently Raphael required two assistants—and fought the urge to turn tail and run.
She would have to run a long way though, for the stretch between the bank of elevators to the wide swath of those desks was an ocean of gleaming marble.
Stay away from me.
She cringed at the words she’d thrown at him a mere ten days ago. If only she could somehow manage a semblance of sophistication in his presence. If only her insides didn’t turn to jelly the moment he was near.
But she’d never experienced anything like her attraction to him, and she didn’t know how to control it.
She was still debating whether she should just cut her losses when the door to his office opened and he stepped out.
His suit jacket was gone, and he seemed to have carelessly pushed the sleeves of his white dress shirt back, revealing hair-roughened forearms and a gleaming Rolex. His hair needed a trim, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.
He was so painfully gorgeous that he took her breath away.
“Pia? How long have you been waiting?”
His frown cut through the light-headedness.
The two assistants’ gazes swung to her. They shot to their feet, a torrent of Italian volleying out of their mouths.
Pia forced herself to move toward him. “I just arrived and I... I hadn’t even had the chance to inquire if you were around.”
He scrutinized her, from her wild hair to her summery blouse and her denim shorts—which suddenly seemed far too short—even down to her wedges, cataloging, it seemed to her, every detail before returning to meet her eyes.
There was that intensity again, that displeasure—as if there was something about her he didn’t like. “Come in.”
She clutched the strap of her purse tight. “It’s nothing...important. Relevant even.” Her idea was ridiculous. Outrageous. “I’ll talk to you when you see Gio...whenever.”
She hardly turned on her heel before he was there, next to her. The warm, male scent of him buckling her knees. His fingers wrapped around her bare arm sending a shocking pulse of awareness through her.
He didn’t really pull her, yet Pia found herself drifting alongside him. “No interruptions,” he warned the gaping assistants before closing the door.
Pia looked around his huge office, more to avoid looking at him than with real interest. A dark mahogany desk took center stage with a sitting area to one side, and a walkthrough to a bedroom and walk-in shower.
She retreated to the other side of the desk while he leaned against the closed door, all casual elegance. “You should not roam by yourself in a strange country.”
Some heretofore-unknown imp goaded her. “Worried about my safety?”
He rolled his eyes, which in turn made her smile. “Giovanni Vito’s American granddaughter is quite the sensation right now.” His gaze skimmed her face for an infinitesimally breathtaking moment. “You’re a shiny target for any number of men.”
He called her the vilest of things, took offense to her presence in Gio’s life and yet, something in his expression made her wonder if he actually was worried about her.
Or maybe she was beginning to delude herself.
She sighed, helpless against the longing that, for one moment, he would see her. Pia. Not Giovanni’s scheming granddaughter. But then, if she weren’t, he’d probably not even look at her at all.
“I begged Emilio to give me a ride since he was coming into the city anyway. Gio is visiting his sister.”
His gaze lingered on her mouth. Just for a fraction of a second, but there. Luckily, the desk hid her trembling legs. “Which one?”
“That mean old dragon Maria.”
One brow shot up.
She colored. “She’s the one who created the rift between my grandmother and Giovanni. Filled both their heads with lies. Turned their young love bitter.”
He scoffed. “Don’t you think their love should have stood against Maria’s meddling? It shouldn’t have sent Lucia running across the ocean and Gio to marry three different women just to mend his broken heart.”
“I know what my Nonni felt each and every day of her life. And I’ll... I’ll thump you before I let you poison the memory of their love.”
He pushed off from the door with a feline grace that sent her pulse speeding. “And Giovanni keeps assuring me that you are a sweet, too-good-to-be-true young woman who likes everyone in the world.” He spoke as if her very existence was an impossibility.
Tracing the edge of the desk with her fingertip, she walked around it before he could reach her. “I usually don’t hold grudges.”
“Is that a warning, Pia?” he said softly behind her. She hadn’t realized how close he was. “You will only let me accuse you of so many things before I become unforgivable?”
She shrugged. “My nonna meant everything to me. I can’t forgive someone who caused her considerable harm. Which is why, while I resent your accusations, I try my best to understand your reasons for behaving as you do.” She looked up and met his gaze. “You care about Gio.”
Shadows filled his eyes before he nodded. “He means everything to me,” he said, using her own words. “He’s the one person who always believed in me. Who never asked anything of me.”
The stark emotion in his voice, the honesty in his eyes—Pia shivered. This was the true Raphael. A man whom no one saw. A man, she was becoming sure, who didn’t appear much. A man she respected and even liked. She cleared her throat, wishing she could shrug off the increasing connection she felt with him. “Now that we’ve established a common goal—”
His arm shot out to capture hers when she would have sidled away again. “If you don’t stop being so nervous around me, I’ll give you a real reason.”
“Like what?” she goaded, pushed by his nearness.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
No, she didn’t. This was dangerous. She had no business playing games with Raphael. So she sat down.
To her immense relief, he took the opposite seat. His long legs folded along the length of her own without touching. “You�
��ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been avoiding the entire male population of Milan. Unsuccessfully.”
His frown deepened, while his long fingers played with a paperweight. “So Gio is still determined to find a prince for his perfect princess. Tell me, is it because you’ve been thwarted in love that you’ve decided to let Gio buy you a nice, convenient husband instead?”
She stood up so fast her head whirled. “If all you’re going to do is mock me, I’ve—”
His arm shot out and caught hers, stalling her. “Mi dispiace, si?”
“You can’t say things with every intention of cutting me, and then expect to be let off by saying sorry. The last thing I want is to involve you. I came because I’ve no choice. And because, believe it or not, I trust you.”
His gaze flared, caught hers, compelling and dominant. But it was she who held it, letting him know she might quiver at his touch but it didn’t make her weak.
A muscle flicking under his jaw, he looked away first.
Pia felt as if she had won a minor battle. She took a drink of water and watched him over the rim of her glass.
Whatever had passed between them, it was gone. Smoothed away beneath his perfect featured mask. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“You were right. Giovanni hosted that ball with the intention of introducing me to eligible men. Introducing being a euphemism.
“I haven’t had a day to myself since that blasted night.
He’s dragging me to party after party, brunch after brunch as if I were...a mule he’s determined to be rid of.” Raphael’s mouth—that sensuous mouth, twitched, and Pia glared at him. “It’s not funny.
“I can’t turn around before there’s a grandson or a son or a twice removed cousin of one of Gio’s friends visiting. There’s so many of them I can’t even keep their names straight. If I refuse to go on an outing, Gio encourages my escort to walk around the estate with me. If I refuse to accompany one of them to a party, Gio takes me there anyway and then abandons me with them.
“I know and you know and the whole damned world knows that it’s not my infinite charms or my breathtaking personality that brings them to me in droves. But Gio refuses to acknowledge it. Pretends as if he can’t hear me when I say half of them are just plain...”
“Idiots?” Raphael offered unhelpfully.
“I’ve had enough of the false attention, the warm looks, the overdone praise of my nonexistent beauty. I’ve taken to packing a picnic lunch first thing in the morning, and escaping to remote corners of the estate to avoid them.”
“No one can stop Gio when he gets an idea into his head. Why do you think he’s estranged from not only three ex-wives but also his brothers and sisters?”
“He’ll listen to you. He thinks you walk on water.”
Raphael shook his head. “I already warned him this would happen. But he’s determined to find you a...” He raised his hands palms up. The defeated gesture didn’t suit him at all. “Don’t shoot the messenger.
Why don’t you tell him to back off?”
“Every time I bring it up, he gets all teary and sentimental, starts rambling about the mistakes he made with Nonni and about leaving me to face men like Frank alone. He works himself into quite a temper.
“He raves about going to his grave knowing that you and I are all alone in the world. He feels responsible for you too, you know.”
Raphael snorted. “You do realize that your grandfather is a manipulative bastard, si?”
“That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true. Giovanni will manipulate you until you agree the sun revolves around the earth.”
She rubbed her forehead, something clicking. “Wait...so you don’t think I’m an impostor anymore?”
“My PI informed me that you’re indeed Lucia’s granddaughter. And Giovanni’s.”
* * *
Which was why Raphael hadn’t visited Gio. But four days and a million thoughts hadn’t been enough for him to figure out how to handle the fact that Pia was Gio’s granddaughter. Or to convince himself not to handle her, in any way.
There were a hundred more beautiful, more sophisticated women among his acquaintances. Women who would suit him for any kind of arrangement he wanted. Women who didn’t look at him with barely hidden longing.
Women who were not his complicated godfather’s innocent granddaughters.
He’d been waiting it out. Telling himself that she was just a novelty with her honest admissions and her innocent looks.
That he’d always preferred experienced women—both in bed and when dealing out of it.
And yet, from the moment he’d seen her standing outside his office, awareness had hummed in his blood.
Today, she looked the part of an elementary teacher with her black-framed geeky glasses, her brown hair in a messy knot precariously held together with a wooden stick, he realized with a grin, and a frilly, floral blouse and worn-out denim shorts that clung to her nicely rounded buttocks and displayed her mile-long legs.
With no makeup on, she should have looked ordinary. But he’d already looked past the surface. Knew that beneath the plain facade was a woman who felt everything keenly. Knew that if he touched her, she would be as responsive and ravenous as he was.
The summery blouse made her look more fragile than usual. He wanted to trace the jut of her collarbone with his fingers. And then maybe his tongue. He wanted to pull that stick in her knot so that her hair tumbled down. He wanted to slowly peel those shorts down until he found the silky skin of her thighs so that he could...
Fingers at his temple, he forced the far too vivid, half-naked image of her from his eyes. Christ, even as a hormonal teenager he hadn’t indulged like that. For one thing, he’d never had a spare minute.
“You had a PI dig into my background?”
He shrugged, glad that he was sitting. “Gio has been hoodwinked by three ex-wives into not only marrying them but settling fat alimonies on them.”
She got up, walked around the coffee table that separated them and sat down at the other end of the sofa he was sitting on. Tilting her chin up, she gave him a haughty look. “I’m waiting, Raphael.”
He grinned. “For what?”
“An apology. What do you think?”
“Didn’t you just tell me you don’t want apologies for things I’m not really sorry about?”
“You’re the most arrogant, annoying man I’ve ever met.”
“Tell me what brought you here, despite that.”
“Last night we had a really bad argument. He was pushing me into a corner and I... I said something really awful.” Big fat tears filled up her eyes. And just like that Raphael went from mild irritation to a strange tenderness in his chest.
Raphael leaned forward and took her tightly clasped hands in his. Even as he fought it, awareness seeped through him from her hands. The rough calluses on her hands, the slender wrists, the blunt nails—everything about her enthralled him.
He looked up and his gaze snagged on her wide mouth, pinched in sadness. “What happened?”
She tugged at her hands and he let go with the utmost reluctance. “Of all the men who have been...pursuing me, for lack of a better word, I like Enzo the best and it was easier to spend time with him than run around trying to avoid the rest of them. I enjoy his company and we’ve been pretty inseparable the last two weeks. He’s kind, genuine and he told me the first moment that—”
“Enzo Castillaghi?” Raphael snapped. Everything inside him came alert.
“He’s gay and he told me within two minutes of meeting me. He said his family would lose it if they knew. Both Giovanni and his father, Stefano, are pushing really hard for this to go through.”
Raphael jerked up straight, his blood curdling. “Stefano? He was there?”
Pia nodded, her gaze searching his. “I didn’t realize Gio knew so much about my thing with Enzo. Anyway, yesterday afternoon out of the blue Enzo and Stefano arrived for lu
nch. After lunch, we... Enzo...proposed to me in the garden while they watched from the terrace. He said he liked me, and we could marry as a convenience for now. It would get his parents off his back and I... Gio and the unwanted attention. Just as a stopgap measure.”
Raphael cursed hard and long.
For Gio to make a deal with Enzo’s father, Stefano Castillaghi, when he knew how much Raphael loathed Stefano, and with good reason... Something wasn’t right. The thought of Pia married to Enzo while Stefano pulled his strings from behind, while Stefano got his hand into Vito Automobiles... His blood boiled.
What the hell kind of a game was Giovanni playing?
“Raphael, you look downright scary. Is the Castillaghi family that bad?”
Somehow, he managed to swallow the poison that swirled within. “Enzo is harmless but completely under his father’s thumb. Stefano, on the other hand...”
“What about him?”
Raphael wondered if she realized she was touching him. That all he’d have to do was tilt his head and his mouth would touch hers. A thread of her scent warmed by her skin teased his nostrils. Damn Giovanni!
“What about Stefano, Raphael?”
He ran a hand through his hair. This day was going from bad to worse. “Stefano was my father’s business partner for twenty years. Even as families, we were very close. As a business, my father, Stefano and the third partner made some unwise, risky investments. When the investments failed to pan out and the business went under, we found that Stefano and the other partner had cleverly claused themselves out of the debt.
My father was the only one responsible. We lost everything—our house, the business, the cars—overnight because he was determined to pay everyone back. But it wasn’t enough.”
“Couldn’t Stefano and the other guy be held responsible by law?”
He hated talking about that time. Talking about the man he’d once hero-worshipped. Being reminded that the void his father had left had only hardened with bitterness. “No.”
“You’re not telling me something.” Distress rang in her voice. “Your father...what happened to him?”
How could she know what he had left out? “He killed himself.”
