Expecting The Fellani Heir. Lucy Gordon
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“The world seemed to change that night, as though we’d become different people.”
“Yes, that’s true. I no longer really know what to think about anything.”
“Is that why you refuse to marry me?”
“I haven’t actually refused. I just can’t take it for granted the way you did. I don’t like being given orders.”
“That’s not what I did.”
“But it is. You just assumed I’d jump at the chance to marry you. How arrogant is that?” She gave a brief laugh. “I once looked up your name and found that Leonizio means ‘lionlike.’ That says it all about you. The lion rules the plains, and Leonizio thinks he can rule wherever he likes.”
Briefly she wondered if she was wise to risk offending him, but his smile contained only wry amusement.
“Except for the lioness,” he said. “She could stand up to him better than anyone else.”
She nodded. “As long as he understands that.”
Expecting the Fellani Heir
Lucy Gordon
LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men. She’s had many unusual experiences, which have often provided the background for her books. Once, while staying in Venice, she met a Venetian who proposed in two days and they’ve been married ever since. Naturally this has affected her writing, in which romantic Italian men tend to feature strongly. Two of her books have won a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award. You can visit her website at www.lucy-gordon.com.
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Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTERWARDS ELLIE ALWAYS remembered the day when things really started to happen, when the sky glowed, the universe trembled to its foundations and nothing was ever the same again.
It began gloomily, a cold February morning with the traffic in a jam, delaying her as she drove to work. Drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, she drew in sharp breaths of exasperation.
The world would call her a successful woman, a highly qualified lawyer employed by one of London’s most notable legal practices. To be late for work should have been beneath her. But it was happening.
When she finally arrived, Rita, her young secretary, greeted her with agitation.
‘The boss has been asking about you every minute.’
The boss was Alex Dallon, founder and head of Dallon Ltd. He was an efficient, demanding man, and it was no small achievement that Ellie had earned his favour.
‘Is he annoyed because I’m late?’ Ellie asked.
‘A bit. Signor Fellani called to say he was coming in this morning and Mr Dallon doesn’t have time to see him.’
‘I wasn’t aware that Signor Fellani had an appointment.’
‘No, but you know him. He just announces he’s coming.’
‘And we all have to jump to it,’ Ellie groaned.
‘I wouldn’t mind jumping for him,’ Rita declared longingly. ‘He’s gorgeous!’
‘That’s not the point,’ Ellie told her, severely but kindly. ‘Looks aren’t everything.’
‘His are,’ Rita sighed.
‘No man’s are,’ Ellie said firmly.
Rita’s response was a cynical look that Ellie understood. She knew exactly how she appeared to her secretary. Rita was a pretty, vivacious young woman with an eager interest in finding ‘the one’. Ellie was a successful, efficient woman in her late thirties, with no husband or lover. Rita would clearly see that as a fate to avoid. To her, a man as attractive as Leonizio Fellani was not merely a client, but a dream to sigh over.
Ellie could understand how naïve Rita could fall for him. He was a man nobody could overlook, in his early thirties, with black hair and dark eyes that drew instant attention. He had a tall, athletic build and moved with a masculine grace that drew many eyes towards him. His face, she conceded, was handsome, although too often marred by tension.
Just once she had seen him smile, and there had been a glimpse of the kinder man he might have been. But it was over in a moment as the unyielding side of his nature took over again.
She herself ignored male attractions. There had been moments in her past when she had weakened, which was how she thought of it. But things hadn’t worked out and she’d gathered her defences again.
Her appearance disappointed her. Her face was pleasant but not strikingly pretty. She possessed only one outstanding feature. Her hair. If she wore it long it could appear lush and wildly wavy. But she chose to scrape it back, tying the length into a bun at the back.
Businesslike, she often thought, regarding herself sadly in the mirror. Nobody is going to sigh over those looks.
She tended to judge herself severely. Many