Untouched, unavailable...
And utterly impossible for him to resist!
Dante Romano has no doubt Mia Hamilton, his father’s much younger widow, is a ruthless gold digger. Yet the sparks between him and Mia are an inferno waiting to erupt. And erupt it does—into an unforgettable encounter that leaves Dante stunned by Mia’s innocence and his craving for more.
Giving in to her undeniable attraction to Dante makes it harder for Mia to hide the secrets she’s sworn to keep. She’s brought enough scandal to the legendary Romano family. And that’s before her shocking bombshell!
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation, and she put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed, she crossed her fingers and answered ‘swimming’—but, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!
Also by Carol Marinelli
Claiming His Hidden Heir
Claimed for the Sheikh’s Shock Son
The Sicilian’s Surprise Love-Child
Secret Prince’s Christmas Seduction
Billionaires & One-Night Heirs miniseries
The Innocent’s Secret Baby
Bound by the Sultan’s Baby
Sicilian’s Baby of Shame
Ruthless Royal Sheikhs miniseries
Captive for the Sheikh’s Pleasure
The Ruthless Devereux Brothers miniseries
The Innocent’s Shock Pregnancy
The Billionaire’s Christmas Cinderella
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
Italy’s Most Scandalous Virgin
Carol Marinelli
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-09842-7
ITALY’S MOST SCANDALOUS VIRGIN
© 2020 Carol Marinelli
Published in Great Britain 2020
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Extract
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
‘LET’S NOT GO THERE.’
‘No, no,’ Dante Romano responded to his brother with a black smile. ‘Let’s.’
The board had convened for a meeting at the headquarters of Romano Holdings in EUR District, Rome, and though it was a frosty January day the subject matter was hot. Yet again the latest salacious articles regarding their majority shareholder’s rather wild private life took precedence.
Dante Romano, the subject of said articles, sat at the head of the table, both unapologetic and confrontational as his brother, Stefano, did his best to steer the meeting away from an unpalatable topic. Except Dante was more than willing to face it and turned to his uncle. ‘Perhaps you would care to clarify that, Luigi?’ Dante’s rich, deep voice could cut ice, as could his dark eyes. He looked across to his uncle, a substantial shareholder, and dared him to go on.
‘I am saying that we are a long-standing family business.’
‘We all know that.’ Dante shrugged.
‘And as a family business, we have a certain reputation to uphold.’
Dante drummed his fingers on the highly polished table, refusing to make this easy on his uncle. ‘And?’
‘Headlines like the ones over the weekend don’t help to portray us as a reputable, wholesome family—’
‘Enough!’ Dante’s patience had run out. ‘We’re hardly in some shed, bottling wine and oil to sell at the market. We’re a billion-dollar company. Who the hell cares who I’m sleeping with?’
He looked around the table that consisted mainly of extended family, all wealthy and powerful thanks to the Romano name. Few would meet his eyes, though his younger brother, Stefano, did. Ariana, who was Stefano’s twin, was forgiven for looking down at her nails, clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter.
But Luigi pushed on. ‘With your father so ill, with so many changes still to come, we need to show stability, we need to get back to the values your grandfather built this company on...’
Famiglia, famiglia, famiglia. Dante had heard it a thousand times before and was more than sick of hearing it.
Dante loved his family, yes.
But to him love was a burden.
After this meeting, Dante told himself, he would go down to Giardino delle Cascate, kick a stone and scream—because the fact was, the Romanos were not the perfect family.
Dante had always loathed that his mother portrayed them as such when he had, after all, witnessed many rows. There were so many secrets at this table: Luigi himself had nearly destroyed the company with his penchant for casinos, which Dante had uncovered some years ago. That was the first time he had saved the company. In fact, Dante’s eternally suspicious nature
came from the belief that he felt lied to.
Always.
‘Hold on, Luigi.’ Dante would not back down. ‘My grandfather was running a tiny family business from a shed, but then my father came along and set the Romano world on fire with his vision—’
‘And also his family values!’ Luigi was pretty formidable too, but he was no match for Dante.
‘Until he had an affair with his PA,’ Dante said.
‘Really,’ Stefano interjected again. ‘Let’s not go there.’
But there was to be no holding back Dante. ‘Why not? My father was all about family values until he left his wife of thirty-three years and married someone younger than his own daughter.’ He pointed to Ariana, who sat there with her lips pursed as Dante blew the lid off the uncomfortable truth. ‘So don’t you dare lecture me about family values. Not one of you.’ He looked around the table but, still, very few dared meet his eyes. ‘I don’t have to discuss this with you. I give enough of myself to the company without having to explain my personal life. I am single and, despite the board’s desire to have me settle down, I shall remain single and sleep with whomever I choose.’
And all too often he did.
Women adored him.
Adored him!
It wasn’t just his undeniably handsome looks, with thick raven hair and black, bedroom eyes. Neither was it all about his stunning body, which he happily shared in his endless appetite for sex. Possibly his obscene wealth played its enviable part, along with his stamina in the bedroom.
There was more to it, though.
His arrogance, his insolence, his completely untamable ways would be offputting for some, just not when combined with Dante’s charisma and his sudden smile.
For—and this was the kicker—he could be so charming.
Even when he was being a bastard.
‘Come on, bella,’ he would say as he ended the affair—they were all called bella, or beautiful—it was easier than remembering names. ‘Would a diamond bracelet help dry those tears?’
Or a car, perhaps?
Earrings, maybe?
And, yes, they did sort of help, because the women had been told from the start it would never go anywhere, and had very willingly entered the glamorous—temporary—highs of Dante Romano’s life.
They just weren’t so willing to get out from between the silk sheets and the caress that smile gave.
Dante wasn’t smiling now, though, as he told the board how it would be. ‘I shall party on and I shall continue to enjoy the fruits of my work. I work damned hard, and you all know it. Were it not for me, we would be back in the shed. I didn’t save this company once,’ he reminded all present, ‘I saved it twice.’ When his father’s divorce had hit, Dante had taken the helm and completely restructured the company, hence the reason Luigi was no longer a major shareholder. But, as Dante had pointed out, thanks to his business acumen, Luigi was still doing very nicely.
Yes, there were tensions indeed.
Dante leant back in his seat, not quite finished tearing Luigi to shreds, but, glancing down, he saw on his silenced phone that the doctor at the hospital was calling.
It was no surprise as he was expecting to be contacted today.
Dante had visited his father in a renowned Florence hospital last night to discuss his transfer to a private hospice here in Rome.
It made sense because Dante himself was mainly based in Rome, Stefano hopped between Rome and New York, and, though Ariana spent a lot of time at their Paris office, she was often in Rome too.
Last night, though, Rafael had said he had changed his mind. Dante had listened to his father express his desire to return to the sprawling family home in Luctano, nestled in the Tuscan hills and surrounded by his beloved vines.
‘We can do that,’ Dante had said. ‘Of course we can.’
They were close, though they had not always got on so well.
Growing up, his relationship with his father had been distant at best, given the impossible hours Rafael had worked.
The same impossible hours that Dante now took on.
When he was seven Stefano and Ariana had been born and the family dynamics had changed. The fighting between his parents had stopped, perhaps because of the rapid growth of the family business meaning that there were fewer money concerns. Or perhaps, Dante had privately thought, because he had been shipped off to boarding school in Rome, and the family had bought an apartment there where his mother had spent a lot of time. Yet holidays had been wonderful, and his father would take time off in the summer and teach him, carefully, the intricacies of the lush land and its produce that had always been the foundation of their business.
But it had been in his midtwenties that Dante had stepped in and put his business mind to the grindstone when the company had been close to crashing. His father had put all his energy into the product, and had left the business side to Luigi, who was impulsive, made poor decisions, and spent too much time and profit in casinos. Dante had taken over the administration of the company, which had brought with it an unexpected bonus: the relationship with his father had changed, first to one of mutual respect, then that of confidants, and finally to friends.
Until Mia Hamilton had come along.
Dante could not bring himself to be nice towards her.
She had been plucked from the relative obscurity of trainee executive assistant in the London office and promoted to the esteemed role of Rafael Romano’s Personal Assistant, although Dante thought of her as his father’s Personal Assassin.
Still, following his father’s diagnosis, Dante had pushed animosity aside—at least towards his father—and had done—and continued to do—anything he could to make the time his father had left easier on him. Although Rafael being at home in Luctano would make things far from easy for Dante.
The logistics did not concern him for he had his own helicopter and used it with ease. And certainly they could afford a virtually hospital-calibre set-up in his father’s residence.
What concerned him was that she would be there.
At least at the hospital Mia had the decency to step out when his family came to visit. Dante rarely acknowledged her, referring to her as ‘Stepmother’ any time he did.
He loathed his father’s wife with a passion, and having to deal with her in the family home in his father’s final months did not appeal.
Still, it was not about Dante, so he would call the hospital back to make the necessary arrangements for his father to be cared for at home. For now, he would get on with the meeting.
Except his screen lit up and he saw that the doctor was calling him again.
Someone of importance was calling Sarah, his PA, Dante guessed, for now she glanced down at her own phone and then looked straight up to him in that particular way she did when there was a call Dante needed to take, and the hackles on the back of his neck rose.
‘Why don’t we take a short recess?’ Dante said smoothly. ‘And when we return, perhaps we can discuss something other than my sex life.’
He strode out, leaving Luigi looking like thunder, and headed straight for his office.
There had, in fact, been four missed calls from his father’s doctor and as the screen lit up again he took the call.
‘Dante Romano speaking.’
And just like that it was over.
He was told that his father’s condition had deteriorated suddenly, and even before a call could be made to alert the family that the end was near, Rafael Romano had passed.
Dante had known this day was coming for months and yet the news of the death of his father brought the ice of the winter outside right into his soul.
He looked over towards the Basilica dei Santi Pietro e Paolo, the church set on the highest point of the district, and fixed his gaze on its enormous dome. He could not fathom that his father was gone. ‘Did he suffer?’ Dan
te asked.
‘Not at all,’ the doctor assured him. ‘It was very quick. His lawyer was there for a meeting. Signora Romano was walking in the hospital grounds, but your father was gone before we could get her back to his side...’
Dante did not need to know her moves. Mia Romano was irrelevant and would soon be carved out of their lives like the cancer she was. He thought of his father dying with the family lawyer beside him. Ironic, really, when it should have been family. He moved on to ask about the person who mattered, the person who had been a loyal wife to his father for more than three decades before that grifter, Mia, had come along. ‘Has my mother been told?’
‘No,’ the doctor said. ‘Just you. Signora Romano thought it better that this call come from me.’
Well, at least Mia had got that much right, for there was no way Dante would have wanted her breaking this news to him.
Dante had hated her on sight.
Only, that wasn’t strictly true.
Dante had hated her on second sight.
The first time they had met she had quite literally stopped him in his angry tracks, for he had been furious with his father about a rumoured affair, though he had not known at that time that his mistress was Mia.
She had worn velvet stilettos and a lavender linen shift dress and had been delightfully pale for an Italian summer. She had worn her blonde hair up and back from her face, allowing full access to sapphire-blue eyes framed with pale lashes.
‘Who are you?’ he had asked when he’d strode into his father’s office.
‘Mia Hamilton,’ she had said, and had told him in less than perfect Italian that she was his father’s new PA and had been brought over from the London branch. Her poor Italian should have been a red flag—his own PA was fluidly multilingual, as was Dante himself, but he had been too enthralled in that moment for logical thinking.
And as he had looked at her and continued to look, Mia had stared back at him. For how many seconds their eyes had held Dante chose not to count. He recalled with perfect precision, though, the slight flush that had spread up her long slender neck and to her cheeks and the thick yet exquisite tension in the air as they’d assessed each other with desire in their eyes, but then his father had come in.
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