Invitation from the Venetian Billionaire

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

‘Say cheese!’

Somewhat inexpertly holding her brand new godson, Carla Blake looked at the camera and concentrated on not dropping the eleven-month-old that belonged to her best friend, Georgie, and Georgie’s husband, Finn. They’d only been posing for a couple of minutes, yet already her arms ached in an effort to contain the squirming and surprisingly heavy child. The strain of maintaining her smile was beginning to take its toll on her facial muscles and her head throbbed.

Not that she wasn’t happy for Georgie and Finn, or indeed to be here. She couldn’t be happier. She was delighted to have been asked to be Josh’s godmother, and with everything that her best friend had been through recently, Georgie deserved every one of the bright grins wreathing her face. Finn was divine – gorgeous, supportive, utterly in love with his wife – and as for their son, who was the spitting image of his father, dark of hair, blue of eye and rosy of cheek, well, he was simply adorable.

Nor was she jealous. As picture perfect as today’s christening had been so far, Carla did not want what Georgie had. She couldn’t think of anything worse than swapping the bright lights and high octane buzz of the city for a sprawling pile in the middle of nowhere, however beautiful.

In no conceivable way would a baby fit with her career, and she certainly didn’t want a husband or partner. She didn’t even want a boyfriend. Casual flings? Absolutely. Anything long term? Definitely not. She didn’t have the time, and her freedom and her independence were too important to her to ever compromise.

In fact, the mere thought of commitment, of being tied to one person for eternity, dependent and trapped, sent chills shooting up and down her spine. Besides, her suspicion of any man who had the potential to attract her was so deep-rooted as to now be grafted on to her permanently and she couldn’t imagine ever possessing the level of trust required for such a relationship anyway.

No, the tension gripping her body and the pounding inside her skull were purely down to stress and exhaustion. Twenty-four hours ago she’d been in Hong Kong, massaging the ego and manipulating the mind of a truculent CEO who’d spent far too long point-blank refusing to accept that the only response to the massive data protection breach the company had just experienced was an apology to every single customer and a generous goodwill gesture to those directly affected.

Once he’d eventually seen sense and the way forward had finally been signed off, Carla had dashed to the airport, making her flight with minutes to spare. Having landed and cleared customs early this morning, she’d swung by her flat to shower and change and had then driven the ninety minutes it took to reach the chocolate box village Finn and Georgie had recently moved to.

She’d bust a complete gut to get here on time and on form and didn’t mind one little bit because she and Georgie were more than best friends. The moment they’d met on the commune where Georgie had been living and to which Carla had moved, they’d each recognised a kindred spirit in the other and from then on they’d shared everything.

Together they’d navigated the challenges of adolescence and a parenting style that bordered on neglect. Through the bleakest of times they’d provided each other with much needed support. Both had been in harrowing situations from which the other had ridden to the rescue when no one else had been able to. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Georgie, and vice versa.

However, jet lag was catching up with her now and the adrenalin that had been keeping her going was flagging. Her usual party mojo seemed to have disappeared without trace. Conversation was proving an unfamiliar slog and the heat was stifling.

But it wouldn’t be long before she could go home and crash out. And once there, then she’d be able to worry about possible burnout and ponder the wisdom of requesting a sabbatical. In the meantime she would simply pull herself together and carry on smiling and chatting because today was all about Georgie and her family, and nothing, nothing, was going to ruin it.

The photographer finally gave her the thumbs up and as he turned away to check the pictures he’d taken, Carla set Josh on the grass. While he toddled off in the direction of the gazebo where lunch was being set up, she straightened and shook out her arms and tried not to grimace when her muscles twinged.

‘My godson is as wriggly as an eel,’ she said to Georgie, who’d been standing a few metres away but now stepped forward.

‘He took his first solo steps a week ago,’ said Georgie with a fond smile while her gaze tracked her son’s progress. ‘Now he just wants to practise. All the time. It’s exhausting trying to keep up with him.’

Carla watched as Josh toppled like a nine-pin then got up without a whimper and resumed his journey, her amusement turning to admiration. ‘His determination is impressive.’

‘He takes after his father.’

‘How is Finn?’

Georgie’s grin faded and a small frown creased her forehead. ‘Climbing the walls while trying to pretend everything is fine.’

‘Still no news?’

The year before, Finn had learned he’d been adopted as a six-month-old, and had poured considerable resources into investigating his roots. Back in March he’d discovered that he’d been born in Argentina and was one of a set of triplets, but as far as Carla was aware that was all anyone knew.

Georgie sighed. ‘None.’

‘It must be so frustrating.’

‘It is. Finn says it doesn’t matter, that he’s let it go because he has us now, and I think he genuinely wants to believe that, but he isn’t as good at pretending as he thinks. It’s eating him up.’

‘What’s being done?’

‘The investigation agency is still trying to track down his brothers but the trail’s gone cold. No one can quite understand the lack of information. It’s as if there’s been a massive cover up, but why would that be the case?’

Why, indeed. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Georgie shook her head, then rallied. ‘I don’t think so. But thank you. And thank you for coming today. I know what an effort it must have been.’

‘There’s truly nowhere I’d rather be,’ said Carla, meaning it despite the stress of the last twenty-four hours. ‘It couldn’t be more perfect. Josh is a very lucky little boy. Besides, you know how much I love a good party.’

And this certainly was a good party, mojo or no mojo. The scene was like something out of a magazine shoot to accompany a piece on the quintessential English summer social whirl. Not a cloud blemished the great swath of cobalt blue sky. The honey-coloured stone of the house gleamed in the mid June sunshine, the glass panes of the huge sash windows glinting with warm light. The vast expanse of lawn stretched out from the terrace like an emerald carpet, bordered by hedges that had been immaculately clipped, their edges and angles a sharp contrast to the soft leaves of the towering trees behind. Champagne and sparkling fruit juice flowed, mopped up by exquisitely delicate canapes, and all around chat and laughter resounded.

‘I’d better go and see to lunch,’ said Georgie in response to a signal from the caterer who’d emerged from beneath the gazebo. ‘Will you be alright?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Carla with a reassuring smile, very glad she didn’t want any of this for herself for if she had, she’d have been eaten up with envy. ‘Go. I’m longing to have a catch up with Kate anyway.’

As Georgie turned to leave, Carla scanned the throng for the woman she’d first met one evening at dinner in Finn’s apartment shortly after Georgie had moved in with him and who’d since become a friend. Her gaze bobbed from one elegant guest to another, when it suddenly snagged on something in the distance.

A figure stood in the shadows beyond the hedge, leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his chest, his face obscured by the dappled shade. Something about him, about the way he was standing and watching, sort of skulking, triggered Carla’s instinct for recognising trouble. Every sense she had switched to high alert and the tiny hairs at the back of her neck shot up.

‘Wait,’ she said, putting a hand on Georgie’s arm to stop her just as she was about to head off.

‘What?’

‘Is everyone who’s meant to be here, here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you expecting anyone else?’

‘No.’

‘Then who’s that?’

Georgie looked in the direction she indicated, and frowned. ‘I have no idea. But I swear he wasn’t there a moment ago.’

‘Want me to go and check it out?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course.’ Rooting out potential problems and neutralising threats was what she did for a living. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure that today continued to run as smoothly as possible, and a speedy assessment of the situation deemed any risk negligible.

‘Thank you,’ said Georgie with a grateful smile.

‘No problem.’

‘Yell if you need back up.’

‘I will.’

*

He’d been spotted.

From his position beneath the wide-spreading branches of the tree he’d identified as the best spot from which to observe the man he’d come to see, Federico Rossi clocked the exact moment the blonde noticed him. One minute she’d been chatting animatedly to her friend, the next, her sweeping gaze had landed on him and she’d frozen. Long glances in his direction from both women had followed, a quick exchange of words then a nod, and now she was striding towards him, her progress impressively unhindered by her sky-high heels.

Her long limbs were loose and her hips swayed as she crossed the lawn. The top half of her red sleeveless dress moulded to her shape, but from her waist to her knees the fine fabric flowed around her thighs and drew his attention to her legs. There was nothing particularly revealing about what she was wearing but her curves were spectacular and the fluid confidence with which she moved was mesmerising.

Not that Rico could afford to be mesmerised at this precise moment. Or distracted. He shouldn’t have allowed his attention to be caught by her in the first place. He wasn’t here in search of female company. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. All he knew was that ever since he’d come across that photo in the financial press he’d been perusing while laid up in hospital, drifting in and out of pain, his broken bones recently pinned and splinted, of the man who looked so like him, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. The growing pressure to do something about it had borne down on him with increasing intensity until he’d had no choice but to give in to the instinct he hadn’t yet had cause to mistrust, even though he still didn’t fully understand any of it.

Nevertheless, it was a relief to know that he could still appreciate an attractive woman when he saw one. Three months ago, in the immediate aftermath of the accident that had fractured his back, shattered his pelvis and broken his femur, it had been doubtful that he’d walk again, let alone regain his ability to respond quite so viscerally to a woman. However, through sheer force of will, determination and the resilience that had kept him alive on the streets of mainland Venice as child he’d defied all medical expectations, and, intriguingly, viscerally was how he was beginning to respond now.

Because as she continued to approach and he continued to watch, her face came better into focus and he saw that she was more than merely attractive. She was stunning.

Sunlight bounced off choppy blond hair that surrounded a heart-shaped face. Even at this distance he could see that her eyes, fixed unwaveringly on him, were light, possibly green, and fringed with thick dark lashes. And despite the fact that her mouth was currently set in a firm, uncompromising line, he suddenly filled with the hot hard urge to draw her back into the shadows with him, pin her up against the tree and find out what she felt like.

Parking that unexpectedly fierce response for later analysis, Rico unfolded his arms, pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head and levered himself off the tree trunk. He stepped forwards, out of the shadows and into the sunlight, stifling a wince as the muscles of his right leg spasmed, and at that exact same moment, a couple of feet in front of him, the woman came to an abrupt halt.

Every inch of her stilled. For the longest moment, she just stared at him as if frozen in shock. Then she raked her green gaze over him from head to toe and back up again, her eyes widening, her face paling and her mouth dropping open on a soft gasp.

‘Oh, dear God,’ she breathed in a way that had him briefly thinking of hot nights and tangled sheets despite his intention to ignore her allure.

‘Not quite.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Federico Rossi,’ he said lazily. ‘My friends call me Rico.’ Well, they would if he had any.

‘Where did you come from?’

Originally, who knew? Who cared? He didn’t. ‘Venice.’

‘How did you get in?’

‘With unexpected ease,’ he said, remembering how he’d sailed through the gates and up the drive. He’d parked his car in front of the house at the end of a line of a dozen others. Realising there had to be a party going on, since the investigation he’d commissioned had thrown up no suggestion that Finn was particularly into fast cars, Rico had decided not to simply knock on the front door and introduce himself as had been the plan, but to assess the situation first. He’d walked round the side of the house, skirting the tall wide hedge, unnoticed and surprisingly unchallenged, and taken up a position in the shadows, a place he was very familiar with and very comfortable in. ‘Someone left the gates open.’

‘For the coming and going of staff.’

‘Finn should take his security more seriously.’

‘I’ll let him know.’ She gave herself a faint shake. ‘I can’t quite believe it,’ she said, still sounding stunned and appealingly breathy. ‘What are you doing here?’

It was a question to which Rico didn’t have an answer that made any sense, so, with a slight smile, he instead went for one that did.

‘Right now, I’m admiring the scenery,’ he murmured, out of habit letting his gaze drift over her and noticing with interest the sudden telltale leap of the pulse at the base of her neck and the rush of colour that hit her pale cheeks.

For the briefest of moments her eyes dropped to his mouth, a flash of heat sparking in their depths. He thought he caught the tiniest hitch of her breath, and it hit to him like a punch to the gut that perhaps he ought to reassess the need for a distraction. Perhaps, instead of suppressing the reaction going on inside him, he ought to encourage it.

Because while he might not fully understand the strange, primitive instinct that had compelled him to come here, to this house and its owner, he did understand desire. He did understand the lingering spark of awareness that suddenly burst into flame, sending heat streaking through his body and giving his pulse a kick.

The last painful twelve weeks aside, sex was the only time he ever felt anything and he’d gone without it for too long. He’d missed the fierce buzz of attraction, the sizzling heat of electrifying chemistry and the blessed oblivion that inevitably followed.

Here, potentially, was an opportunity to rectify that, he realised, giving free rein to the desire he’d been trying to suppress and now relishing the feel of it drumming through him. He hadn’t planned to stay overnight in the country, intending instead to return home once he was done, but he was adaptable. So perhaps he’d change his plans and invite the goddess before him to dinner. And afterwards, if she was amenable, he’d take her to bed and prove to anyone who cared to know just how well he’d recovered from the BASE jump accident that had nearly killed him. It would be a satisfying and enjoyable way of getting through the hours, if nothing else.

The swiftness with which she appeared to be rallying was disappointing but no great obstacle. Her gaze might have turned cool, her breathing steadying and the blush on her cheeks receding but he knew what he’d seen. He knew what he’d heard. And he intended to capitalise on it.

‘Silly question,’ she said with impressive composure, as if she hadn’t even noticed the chemistry let alone responded to it. ‘You’re here to meet Finn.’

He gave a brief nod. ‘I am.’

‘Your brother. Your twin.’

‘Quite possibly,’ he said, a strange and unexpected hint of apprehension flickering through him at the apparent confirmation of what up until now had only been a suspicion.

‘Then you’d better come with me.’