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The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.
First published 2015
(c) Clare Connelly
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CHAPTER ONE
It had been three years since she’d seen him, but one thing hadn’t changed.
A single sighting of Leonardo Fontana could still turn her insides to mush. He’d changed so much since the last time she’d seen him. Three year ago, he’d been in a hospital bed, possibly crippled for life, his strong, handsome face bruised, his head bandaged, and his body kept still with casts to allow his bones to heal.
Now? There was no sign that the twenty eight year old had so much as suffered a scratch, let alone been at the centre of a crash that was generally believed to be the worst in professional racing in a decade.
It was as though Aurora was slipping through the silvery threads of time, staring across at the man she’d once loved with all her heart. Though they’d kept their relationship a carefully guarded secret, nothing had been understated about how much they’d loved one another.
She studied him openly through the crowd of the bar. Dressed in a slate grey suit that barely concealed his raw, muscular strength, with his dark hair brushed back from his face, he was the picture of Italian virility. His eyes were wide-set and calculating, rimmed in thick dark lashes and splattered with flecks of grey and green. His nose was aquiline; she had joked, in the past, that he was the ultimate patrician. His lips, oh his lips. Her stomach turned as she remembered the power his lips had to reduce her to a quivering mess.
“Aurora? Are you listening?” Beatrice leaned towards her best friend, waving a perfectly manicured hand in her face. Aurora blinked and forced her gaze away from her former lover.
She smiled apologetically, encompassing her three companions. “Let me guess. We were talking about the wedding.”
Beatrice, Aurora’s closest friend since the first day of high school, was nestled into the crook of her fiancé Peter’s arm. They were a strikingly handsome pair. Beatrice had her mother’s complexion – fair skin, auburn hair, and green eyes; while Peter was fair and swarthy, like a true Viking. Every minute or so, Beatrice’s gaze was drawn to the sparkling emerald and diamond ring she wore on her ring finger.
Beside the beamingly, loved-up couple was the man Aurora knew they were hoping might finally tempt her into the blissful world of coupledom. And he was nice. Alec Shaw was a mid-level financier like Peter; wealthy and successful, though not boring or staid. He was handsome, in a conservative, Ralph Lauren wearing way, with his blue eyes and neatly cut walnut brown hair. His shoes were handmade, his watch expensive, and his manners practiced yet perfect. He was destined to be Peter’s best man at the upcoming wedding, and Aurora to be Beatrice’s Maid of Honor. Therefore, by some kind of unwritten yet all-known wedding law, being both single, they were also destined to get together.
“We can have the wedding at Farnley,” Beatrice referred, with a shrug, to her family’s ancient country estate. A grand hall with expansive gardens and a duck pond that Aurora had once fallen into, Aurora could perfectly picture the splendid event. “But then, there’s the fact that most of Peter’s family and friends are based here, in the City. The travel would be an inconvenience.”
Aurora lifted her champagne to her lips and sipped it thoughtfully. “Farnley is not exactly the end of the earth. It’s only two hours out of London.” The first time she’d seen the grand mansion, she’d thought it the most beautiful palace on earth. Of course, she’d grown up on the eighth floor of an unspectacular council flat in East London. A full scholarship to a prestigious public school had thrown her into an entirely different orbit; her friends came from families that had private jets, royal godparents and claims to ancient thrones. Beatrice had been no different. A mother descended from the Hanovers; a father who was a different kind of royalty – the son of a famous Hollywood director – and a half-brother who had become a legend in the world of Formula One racing. A man who had broken Aurora’s heart into a dustbowl of pieces and feelings. She tried to concentrate on the question at hand.
“But when you think about the oldies and the babies, that seems like a lot to ask of people.”
Aurora slid a side-long glance of amusement in Alec’s direction. Behind him, in the distance of the crowded bar, she was aware of Leo, but she forced herself not to look again. Staring at him as she had done was a sign of weakness that she didn’t intend to repeat. “People travel further than that for weddings all the time. Have the thing where you want it to be. What do you think, Pete?”
He lifted his eyes heavenward in his very diffident way and squeezed his fiance’s shoulders. “I think we should elope in Ibiza.”
Beatrice laughed. “Peter Donald Andre Beaumont, there is no way we’re going to elope.”
“Worth a try, eh?” He winked at Aurora.
“I think the idea of an island wedding has merit.” His voice, deep and gravelly, was intoned with the hint of an accent that came from having spent the first five years of his life in Italy. Aurora didn’t have to look up to know that Leonardo had joined them. She gripped the champagne flute tightly, to hide the way her fingers were shaking, and lifted it to her lips.
“You came!” Beatrice jumped up from the table, her tall, slender length unfurling elegantly to wrap around her older brother. “You really came!”
“It is not every day that your little sister becomes engaged,” he responded with a casual flicker of his brows.
“But still! You’re always so busy travelling around being a Formula One hot shot. I wasn’t even sure I could count on you for the wedding.”
Still, Aurora couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were glued somewhere past them, the lump in her throat making speech impossible.
“It turned out I was in London.”
Beatrice pulled away with a laugh. “I see. So you’re here because it just happened to fit in with your frenetic lifestyle.”
“Does it matter? I’m here.” His grin was lopsided and sexy as sin. “Congratulations, baby sister. I’m pleased for you.” He extended a hand to Peter. “You do know you’re getting more than you bargained for, right?”
“I’m counting on it,” Peter responded with a confident nod of his head.
To Aurora’s absolute chagrin, Leo pulled a chair out and sat wedged between Peter and Alec. “Leo, this is my best man and occasional thorn in my side, Alec Shaw.”
“Leo Fontana? In the flesh?” Alec asked, his eyes as wide as wheels.
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a small nod.
“Alec’s a racing enthusiast,” Peter explained unnecessarily. “And of course you must know Aurora?”
Aurora couldn’t have been sure she was still breathing.
Her lungs were burning as though flame had torn through them. Her mouth was dry and claggy, her tongue thick in her throat, and perspiration was beading at the very top of her forehead. Three years and now, in a glamorous bar in the East End, the moment of truth had finally arrived.
Be brave. She forced herself to lift her pale blue eyes to his face, carefully keeping her expression neutral.
“I have had the pleasure,” he responded drily, leaving Aurora in very little doubt that he considered their acquaintance to have been anything but pleasurable.
Even Beatrice had not known about their relationship. “Did you used to have a crush on Leo, Aurora? Or was it the othe
r way around?” She giggled, obviously not realising she was driving a stake of mortification into her best friend’s heart. For it had been so, so much more than that.
Be brave. “A million years ago,” Aurora said with an attempt at a smile. “That’s ancient history, isn’t it, Leonardo?”
“Haven’t thought of you in years.”
Her heart turned over in her chest, for she had no doubt it was true. She had dreamed of him every night, and imagined she’d seen him everywhere she went. She’d studiously avoided any television sets when he was racing. And, if the gossip magazines that delighted in covering his string of glamorous relationships were to believed, he had long ago forgotten her existence.
It should have given her relief. After all, the ease with which he’d moved on underscored how right she’d been to end things. But relief was a long way off from how she felt.
Whether she sensed the undercurrent of tension between them or just had a one-track mind, Beatrice reached out and put a hand over Leo’s. “Seriously, what do you think? Farnley? Or the City?”
He locked his eyes with Aurora’s, and the searing anger in them would have taken her breath away, had she any to spare. “There is always Rimini.”
Aurora could no longer meet his contempt. She closed her eyes as memories of the week they’d spent on his island swirled in her gut. Making love in the warm, shallow water at the pristine shoreline; eating local delicacies in bed, all day long; lounging around, completely naked, by the pool. She sipped from her champagne again, and for the first time in years, felt like she needed to drink more than was wise. That she needed something to blot out the pain.
She reached for the bottle and was relieved to see it was empty. “I’ll go get another,” she said without looking at any of them.
“I’ll help you.” Alec was apparently very willing to be pulled into the role he was being cast – attentive would-be lover.
“No, that’s fine.” Aurora needed to be alone. She softened her swift rebuke with an encouraging smile. “You stay here and take the wedding hit for both of us, huh?” Would she have reached down and run her fingers over his shoulder if Leonardo hadn’t been watching with blistering indolence? No. But he was, and so she did.
Though the bar was packed, people seemed to part for Aurora. She hadn’t modelled in years, but her face, and figure were still famous the world over. That swimsuit magazine cover had burned her into the nation’s consciousness; the British model who’d become an icon of the summer swimsuit scene. She ran a hand through her long, fair hair and smiled distractedly at one of the men behind the bar.
He appeared, in a flash, his eyes raking her face as recognition kicked in. “I thought it was you,” he said with wide-eyed surprise. “Aurora Jones.”
“That’s me,” she summoned a grin, but she felt claustrophobic suddenly. Too many people were pressing on her, and her history with Leo was some kind of inescapable weight on her chest. She ordered a champagne and handed over her credit card. “I’ll come back to get it in a moment, okay?”
“No need, Aurora. I’ll take it to your table.” His eyes swept down her face, to her cleavage, adding to the sense that she was being squashed alive.
She moved away from the bar with a small nod of thanks, her face pale, her eyes showing her pain. It was October, and the Autumnal night was fiercely cold. Aurora had dressed for her best friend’s engagement party as people expected her to, in a stunning couture slip that was glamorous but brief. As a rush of ice wind blew past her, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She wished she still smoked, but that was another habit she’d given up years ago. Along with boozy nights out, modelling, and gorgeous boyfriends with a sado-masochistic death wish.
When she returned to the table, ten minutes later, Leonardo was still there. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or secretly thrilled, but her body was awash with emotions.
Alec reached over and topped up her champagne for her, earning a flicker of disapproval from Leonardo. It sent a shiver of immature pleasure down Aurora’s spine. If she could annoy Leonardo, so much the better. She lifted the glass in a silent cheer and drained more than half of it. “Is there anything better than champagne?” She felt emboldened to ask.
“Aurora only drinks champagne,” Beatrice leaned forward and explained to Alec. “The fancier the better.”
“I seem to recall she drinks Prosecco also,” Leonardo interjected smoothly, earning not a flicker of response from anyone but Aurora. After all, no one else would remember the way he’d poured it over her naked body and used his tongue to chase the bubbling liquid.
“I’ll make do with Prosecco, if I must, but champagne is far more my thing,” she said with a cold note to her voice. “And it’s probably better if we stick to talking about the wedding, rather than my drinking preferences.”
He bent his head forward, and said so that only she could hear him, “Your drinking preference right now seems to be anything that gets you hammered.”
“Funny,” she murmured back. “I haven’t felt the need to drink myself into oblivion since I saw you last.”
His smile was both dark and dismissive. He turned his full attention back to Beatrice and gave every appearance of being interested in the planning for the wedding.
Aurora finished her champagne and stood, needing to press her fingers into the table’s wood-grain surface to steady herself. “Bea, I’m going to circulate.”
Beatrice nodded. “I’m surprise you made it this far into wedding detail talk.”
“So am I.” Aurora’s smile was solely for her best friend. “Excuse me.”
“Is she okay?” Alec asked, looking after the supermodel-turned-fashion-blogger with a concerned expression.
“Oh, she’s fine.” Beatrice waved a hand through the air. “She might look like a breeze could carry her away but Aurora’s got party girl training that puts anyone to shame. She can drink a soldier under the table and still have what appears to be a straight up sober conversation.”
Only Aurora hadn’t had more than an occasional glass of wine in years, and the three champagnes she’d pounded back in rapid succession had made her feel distinctly woozy. Seeing Leo again compounded that sensation.
“Having a good night?”
She squinted at the man, to ascertain that he was, in fact, speaking to her. He was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place why.
“I’m the barman,” he smiled, his face pleasing, his manner acceptable.
“Yes, of course,” she nodded.
“You look like you’re celebrating.”
“My best friend just got engaged,” she said with a frown.
“You don’t like the guy?”
“What?” She blinked, her eyes blurred.
“You frowned just now.”
“Oh, right.” She shook her head. “No. I just didn’t expect her to sign her life away on the dotted line.”
“Not a fan of marriage?”
She had been, at one time. Aurora frowned. “I’m not making sense. I’m really… tired.” Drunk, more like.
She blinked again. “Excuse me.” She looked around the bar, a sea of people, and only one that drew her eye.
He was looking at her. Angrily. No. Furiously. Good. “On second thoughts,” she said to the barman, “I might have another drink. For the road.”
“I’m glad.” His smile now was unmistakably touched with seductive purpose. He poured a glass of Billecart-Salmon and handed it to her. “On the house.”
“Oh, nonsense,” she demurred, reaching into her purse and pulling out a bank note. “Here.”
He waved her money away. “It’s just a glass of champagne.”
“Is it?” She smiled dubiously. There had been a time, after leaving Leonardo, when she’d excelled at the party scene. Meeting men had been a nightly affair. If that brief stint had taught her anything, it was that a glass of champagne was rarely just a drink.
“For now.” He responded quietly, answering her silent qu
estion.
She sipped the champagne, aware that Leonardo’s dark eyes still clung to her. “Have you worked here long?”
She felt nauseous and dizzy.
“A year, give or take.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s a job,” he shrugged.
“You’re Irish?”
“Very good.” He leaned closer to her, so that she could smell the faint tang of his aftershave. “Why did you give up modelling?”
She looked down at the bubbles in her glass, watching as they fizzed and burst against the edges. “I grew out of it.”
His laugh was coarse. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She swallowed. Even in her state of inebriation, she could tell the situation was getting out of hand. “Thank you.”
“Do you miss it?”
“No.” She flashed him a look of curiosity. “Do you hit on all your customers?”
“Just the ex-models,” he said with a wink and a cheeky shrug.
“I’m flattered.”
He laughed again. “I get off in an hour. Want to wait around and I’ll… give you a lift home?”
How simple it would have been to accept his offer. To put a band-aid over the pain that seeing Leonardo had ripped raw. “No.” She shook her head. “I can’t wait around an hour. I have to go.”
He opened his mouth to attempt another path of persuasion but she shook her head. “I’m really tipsy.” She pushed away from him. “Sorry.”
“You seem fine to me.”
“She said no.” Leonardo. Aurora froze, her body stiff.
“I heard her.” The barman lifted his hands in surrender. “I heard her.”
“Did you? Because I heard you attempting to change a very drunk woman’s mind.”
“Hey!” Aurora spun around slightly unsteadily. “I am not very drunk.”
His expression was thunderous, as he grabbed one of her arms. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Seduced by the Italian Tycoon: From the first moment they met, she was powerless to resist him Page 14
