Log In
Or create an account ->
Imperial Library
Home
About
News
Upload
Forum
Help
Login/SignUp
Index
CHAPTER ONE HE’D found her! Prince Maximo d’Aquilla parked his Mercedes beneath a broken streetlight, staring at the brightly lit gas station. The shining light from the shop’s windows illuminated the snowy night like a flame in the darkness, silhouetting the girl working alone inside. Lucia Ferrazzi. The granddaughter of his enemy. The ex-lover of his business rival. Fate, he thought, gripping the steering wheel. Il destino. After all these years of looking, how else to explain it? His phone rang. Ermanno, one of the bodyguards waiting in the car parked behind him, said a single word: “Signore?” “Wait for my signal,” Maximo replied in Italian, and snapped his phone shut. He watched her for another five minutes. It was ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve, and the store should have been busy selling wine and beer; but the run-down South Chicago neighborhood was eerily dark and deserted beneath the heavily falling snow. The girl assisted her only customer at the cash register with a shy smile.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO HE WANTED to take her to Italy? Italy. The warm, beautiful land Lucy had dreamed of since she was twelve years old, watching A Room with a View on TV during her mother’s last night in the hospital. Even her mom’s final words to her had been, “Go to Italy, Lucy…Go…” But Lucy had never left Illinois. She’d lived in foster homes until she was eighteen, then worked and scrimped her way into college. Her sophomore year, working at a department store, she’d met a handsome, smooth-talking man who spoke Italian—the vice president of a fashion house based out of New York. He delighted her with stories of Rome, promising to someday take her to visit. Lucy had never met a man like Alex Wentworth. A man so magical…so glamorous…so exotic. She’d dropped out of college, giving up all her hard work, simply because he’d complained that school took too much of her time. She’d fallen like a brick. She was still falling. The dream had become a nightmare. He’d fled to Rome, beyond the reach of
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE “YOU aren’t going to get away with this,” Lucy ground out for the tenth time as he drove them into downtown Chicago. Unmoved, Maximo parked his sleek black Mercedes beneath the grand marquee of the Drake Hotel. “You have no idea what I can get away with.” Furious, she ripped off her blue cashier’s smock, balling it up in her hands and tossing it to the floor. “I don’t know what the laws are like in Italy, but in Chicago, you can’t just kidnap someone—” “There are laws against kidnapping in Italy, as well.” He abruptly stopped the car. “They do not apply in this case. I did not kidnap your daughter.” “What do you call it then?” “I knew you would accept my offer. I simply expedited our departure.” Leaving the engine idling, he undid his seat belt and stepped out of the black SUV. Her eyes widened as she saw him carelessly hand a hundred-dollar bill to the waiting valet. “Thank you, your highness,” the young man breathed, and hurried to open the passenger-side door for Lucy.
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR “VA BENE .” Maximo looked down at her with a strange light in his eyes. “Come with me.” He took her hand, and she felt the same electricity, the same high-voltage shock. He pulled her back down the hallway and into the elevator. He was Heathcliff carrying her across the moors. He was Mr. Rochester demanding what he had no right to possess… He was Prince Maximo d’Aquilla, taking her to his hotel room. He stood behind her in the elevator, his hands possessively on her shoulders. Against her will, she closed her eyes. The weight of his hands felt like gold against her skin. Satiny-smooth, gleaming, heavy—forbidden. Except Maximo wasn’t Heathcliff. Heathcliff had wanted Cathy so much that he’d been willing to kill for her, die for her. He’d been driven half-mad when he’d lost her. The Italian prince standing behind her now, so close that she could feel the warmth emanating from his body, didn’t even see her as a woman. You’re not my type. You’re too plain. Too badly dressed. T
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE LUCY looked up from the folder to the handsome prince in front of her. “What are you talking about?” she croaked. “Married? To you?” “Correct.” “I don’t even know you!” His sensual lips curved. “An excellent start for marriage.” “You said you’d never settle down with one woman—and you want to marry me?” “Sì.” “But why?” “Let’s start with why you’d want to marry me,” he said smoothly. “My palatial homes all over the world. My vast fortune. You can buy whatever you want without question. You will never need to work again. You will travel in the most exclusive circles of society. Your daughter will go to the best schools.” He took a step toward her. “And then there’s the title.” “The title?” she repeated faintly, aware of how close he was to her. He stroked a dark tendril of her hair, still wet from when he’d crushed her into the snow. “Wherever you go, for the rest of your life, you will be accepted and admired. As my princess. My bride,” he said. “The Principessa Lucia d’Aq
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX THE day Lucy had discovered she was pregnant, she’d started planning her dream wedding. A little white church in springtime. Flowers in bloom. A fluffy white dress. A homemade cake with white buttercream frosting. Alex next to her. And in her arms, the honorary flower girl or ring bearer—their baby. Lucy had never imagined she would marry a stranger in a hotel, with no church, no cake and no dress. When she’d gotten ready for work that afternoon, wearing jeans, her mother’s old sweatshirt, a ponytail and no makeup—she’d never imagined she was getting dressed for her wedding. She had no friends. No family. The only witnesses were Maximo’s thin-faced lawyer and the two gorgeous women glaring bullets into Lucy’s back. Strangely Lucy had no difficulty promising to love, honor and obey Maximo. It was almost pathetically easy. She repeated the judge’s words, echoing Maximo’s responses, hypnotized by his gaze. His eyes pinned her, searing her, controlling her will. Burning into he
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN SITTING in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce, traveling from Milan to Lake Como that afternoon, Lucy barely recognized herself. Or Maximo, for that matter. What had happened to the selfish, arrogant prince? In the hours since they’d arrived in Italy, Maximo had been nothing but charming. He’d spent the entire morning following her from one exclusive baby boutique to the next, carrying bags, pushing Chloe in a gorgeous new stroller. It was only when the trunk of the Rolls was full of baby clothes that he’d put his foot down and demanded she buy some clothes for herself. From Prada to Chanel, Versace to Valentino, he’d patiently waited in every store. While Lucy tried on clothes, he had read new books to Chloe until she fell asleep in her stroller. Then, when Lucy blushingly came out of her dressing room, he’d given his verdict on each outfit with a flash of heat in his eyes. And the occasional murmured “Bellissima.” At every shop, she’d been flattered and complimented, waite
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT LUCIA Ferrazzi? Lucy nearly gasped aloud. Ferrazzi—as in Ferrazzi handbags? As in the company he was trying to gain through hostile takeover? She looked at him, the man who just a moment ago had seemed too good to be true. And all her gratitude and joy evaporated like smoke. “Lucia Ferrazzi!” The people in the salon, perhaps fifty or sixty in total, burst into excited rapid-fire speech in both English and Italian. “Lucia Ferrazzi!” A white-haired old woman in the corner suddenly burst into tears, crying above the din, “Bambina mia…” And Lucy felt sick. “I want to talk to you,” she ground out to Maximo. “Right now.” “Later.” He gave a charming, gracious smile. “Greet your guests and friends. Some of them have waited for you for decades.” “But I’m not—” she gasped as she was dragged from him and Chloe, pulled away by the tide of people rushing forward to embrace her. They had tears in their eyes as they cried out her name. But it wasn’t her name, Lucy Abbott, that they were
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE THE bedroom was too dark to see his face, but Lucy felt every inch of him as he crushed her against his body. He was so much larger than her, so much stronger. This flesh-and-blood prince, a man of shadows, uncontrollable, undeniable… “You’re not going anywhere but my bed.” “No—” She struggled in his arms but to no avail. His lips descended ruthlessly upon hers. His kiss was passionate. Unyielding. In the darkness, he seduced her to his will beneath an onslaught of fire. She sagged against him, helpless to resist, helpless even to object. His lips were warm, the taste of his mouth as sweet as molten candy. His body felt good against hers. Too good. If something feels too good to be true, it’s a lie… With her last drop of self-control, Lucy shoved him away. Grabbing the nearby curtains, she pulled with all her might. Violet-gray twilight flooded the room, but it was enough. She was safe. Daylight, the bane of any creature of the night, would cause Maximo to lose his strange
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN HEART in her throat, Lucy turned to Maximo as he slid in next to her in the backseat of the silver Maserati Quattroporte the next morning. “I can’t make Alexander sign this.” She shook the legal documents that would terminate his parental rights forever, then stuffed them angrily into her sleek alligator satchel. “I’m telling you right now. Once I show him Chloe’s picture, he’ll come to his senses and demand to be her father.” “I’m just glad you let me dissuade you from actually bringing the baby, so he won’t reject her to her face.” “He won’t reject her!” Lucy leaned forward to wave goodbye one last time at Chloe, who was watching from Amelia’s arms in an upstairs window. The girl had eagerly volunteered to babysit for a few hours, and the whole household staff was available for any necessary help. Lucy still felt uneasy leaving her baby, but she’d realized it was for the best. “You act like you still love him.” Maximo’s abrupt tone made her sit up straight in her seat as
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN LUCY!” The expressions crossing Alexander’s pale face in waves—recognition, shock, horror, anger—would have been comical, if Lucy had been in the mood to laugh. “What are you doing here?” He looked her over in amazement, from her seven-hundred-dollar ankle boots to her black stockings and cobalt wool shift dress. Her hair was pulled back from her face, showing her chic gold hoops beneath loose dark tendrils that had escaped in the tumult of the helicopter ride. Wearing contacts, her eyes were rimmed with kohl and mascara and her lips were darkened with a classic, subdued shade of autumn wine. Alex stared at her as if he could barely recognize her. Then his eyes narrowed. “You should never have come here,” he said coldly. “I had no choice.” She held her Ferrazzi satchel closer to her body so he wouldn’t see how her hand trembled. Inside the bag, she could see the legal documents that would terminate his parental rights. And next to that—the photo of Chloe that would final
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE THEY arrived at a private airport in southern Sicily shortly before sunset. Lucy descended from the plane with Chloe in her arms. It was so warm, she’d left her coat in her suitcase, and now wore only a white cotton blouse, slim dark jeans and wedge sandals. Her dark hair, tied back with a green silk headband, was whipped by a warm breeze as she came down the steps to the tarmac. The wind was fragrant with flowers and the salty tang of the sea. Above their heads, palm trees swayed. Ahhhh…Sicily. She took a deep breath, and suddenly, the weight on her shoulders seemed to lighten. Though it was January, she’d at last seen the warm Italy of her dreams. But at the bottom of the steps, she stopped. She didn’t see a Rolls-Royce or anything remotely like a limo. In fact, the only car parked anywhere on the pavement of the tiny private airport was a beat-up old truck. Confused, she looked to the right and left. “Where’s our car?” Pulling their luggage from the plane himself, he
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN BANG —crash—bang! Lucy’s eyelids fluttered. For a moment, stretching her body against the soft mattress, she was still in her dream. It had been so wonderful. A happy family living in a rose-covered cottage by the sea. A houseful of children, laughing and playing. And after they were asleep, a dark, handsome prince had taken her to bed at night, making her moan and scream with pleasure such as she’d never known… Their bargain. Her eyes flew open. She was in the snug little bedroom, lying on the slender mattress with an old metal frame, beneath a handmade quilt. On the nearby nightstand, she saw a basin full of freshly cut roses. She sat up. Warm sunlight scattered across the old handwoven rug on the hardwood floor. It was late morning. “We did it,” she whispered aloud. “We slept late. Chloe—” But the crib was empty! Crash—bang—crash! Where was her baby? Lucy leaped out of bed. Wearing nothing more than a silk pajama top that barely reached the tops of her thighs, she p
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN WIND blew the flowers and grass of the field around them, waving the branches of the olive grove as Maximo looked at her beneath the hot Sicilian sun. And he knew she was his for the taking. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark against her creamy skin. Her head was tilted back to expose her trembling neck. Dark hair tumbled down her shoulders, against the white cotton that barely clung to her arms, against her magnificent breasts, high and full with nipples the color of pale April roses… He shook his head in amazement. How could he have ever thought Lucy was plain? She was more than a beauty. She was a goddess. And she didn’t know. Her innocence of her own power intoxicated him. She was fated to be his. Maximo never wanted to let her go. Find her a new husband? Dio santo. He must have been out of his mind to even suggest it. Introduce her to his friend in Rio? Maledizione. Joaquim would take one look at those long legs, full breasts and gorgeous smile and be only too
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN THREE days later, Villa Uccello was in total wedding-day uproar. “Let me in!” Maximo roared, pounding the bedroom door. “No!” Lucy leaned back against it. Her teeth chattered with the reverberating force of his pounding. “It’s bad luck for you to see me today!” “Lucy, be reasonable! It’s an evening wedding. You can’t expect me not to see you all day long. This is torture!” She covered a laugh. She could just bet he wanted to see her. Ever since they’d returned to Aquillina, they’d both been busy—he with wrapping up the details of the Ferrazzi acquisition, and Lucy with her planner trying to create her dream wedding in just a few short days. Three days of dress-fittings and cake-tastings, with Chloe sampling as much frosting as she could get her chubby little hands on. Three days of being interviewed by reporters from around the world. Three days of manicures and pedicures and massages, as Maximo had brought the team of stylists from Milan to stay at the Villa Uccello at
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN MAXIMO gasped when he saw her. His princess stood at the other end of the aisle. Lucy’s dark hair was pulled back beneath a veil, held in place by the priceless diamond tiara that matched the necklace at her throat. Her white gown had long, form-fitting sleeves and a tight corset bodice that exploded into a frothy, wide skirt. Her red lipstick emphasized her full mouth, and the color matched the long-stemmed scarlet roses in her hand. As if of one accord, the wedding guests rose to their feet with an appreciative gasp. Scores of the world’s rich and famous were packed into the tiny private chapel. But even the jaded movie stars, princes and prime ministers, politicians and billionaires were in awe. Lucy appeared like a vision in the ancient chapel, lit by hundreds of candles on the cold, wintry night, bedecked by roses red as blood. Goddess of winter, he thought with a lump in his throat. Donna molto bella. So beautiful it made him hurt to look at her. Lucy. Staring at
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN HALFWAY on the drive to Milan, Chloe woke up crying for her purple hippo, and Lucy realized to her horror that she’d left it behind. She’d been so rushed when she left the villa, so desperate to get out before Maximo could follow her and convince her to stay, before he could repeat the lie that he loved her. Love her? He would never love her. It had just been his last, heartless attempt to beat her grandfather. Leaving her wedding dress and the priceless diamonds on their bed—the bed where they’d been so happy together—she’d packed a few items of clothing for herself and Chloe. And her three Ferrazzi handbags. She no longer wanted the thirty million her husband promised her. Let Maximo and Giuseppe fight over her family company till doomsday; she didn’t want it. She was going back to Chicago where things made sense. But things were going to be different this time. Her alligator satchel would be worth thousands of dollars even on the secondhand market. That would be en
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN THE World’s Most Eligible Bachelor Rejected! Handsome Prince Spurned Amid Accusations of Long-Ago Crime, the headline read. “Serves him right,” said heartbroken former girlfriend Esmé Landon, the countess of Bedingford. “He’s dished it out for long enough—about time he had to take it!” The day after he lost the love of his life, it was still sinking in. Maximo stared down at the tabloid in his hands, feeling a lump in his throat. So this was what heartache felt like. All these years he’d been a playboy, casually breaking hearts right and left, and he’d never known… “You shouldn’t read that trash,” his aunt Silvana said sharply behind him in Italian. “I’m not.” He crumpled the paper in his hands and tossed it in the fire. “It’s kindling.” She nodded with an expressive snort and flare of nostril. “I will make you some lunch.” “I’m not hungry. Go home, Silvana. You have your own life.” “Of course I do,” she replied, tucking back her white hair, bright as snow against her
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
← Prev
Back
Next →
← Prev
Back
Next →