An Innocent To Tame The Italian. Tara Pammi

An Innocent To Tame The Italian - Tara Pammi


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too.”

      “Partner? What kind of a partner?” Color left her cheeks, her eyes searching his. “For the last time, Mr. Brunetti, I’m not for sale. I’m not what you think—”

      “Calm down, Natalie,” he interrupted her, trying her name on his tongue and liking it. Her eyes sought his in the relative dark, awareness shining through them. She hadn’t missed the intimacy of it, either. “It’s just another part of our deal, ?”

      “Explain. Now, please.”

      “I have to explain your presence at my side, 24/7. I need a romantic partner for the foreseeable future. This way—”

      “You’ve lost your mind. I’m not staying in Italy any longer than I have to. And I refuse to be your... Why the hell would a man like you need a pretend girlfriend?”

      “A man like me?”

      He grinned. She glared. “You’re supersmart, obviously given you’re one of the tech billionaires under thirty in the world. You’re—” she licked her lips then and he waited with arrested breath “—a walking, talking stud muffin. Not counting all that dynasty crap you threw at me. Why—?”

      “What does a woman do with a stud muffin?”

      She rolled her eyes and he laughed. “Why do you need a pretend girlfriend?”

      “I was thinking a pretend fiancée actually.” Her eyes bugged and he grinned, explaining, “An ex-girlfriend that I can’t shake off and my nonni have joined forces. Believe me, it’s enough to scare a grown man.”

      “So you don’t want to hurt their feelings?”

      This time, when he laughed, it felt as if his chest would burst open. The minx was such a contrasting mix of street savvy and naïveté, of smarts and innocence. She’d make a hell of a distraction from the lethargy that had filled him of late when it came to women.

      “Feelings, of any of the parties involved, are the least of my concern. Greta, my nonni, is extremely stubborn, and has antiquated views about the whole dynasty and its continuation and legacy and all that rot. For some unfathomable reason, apparently, she’s decided that Gisela Fiore, who comes with a fortune of her own, would be a sweet, biddable wife for me. Gisela is a mistake I shouldn’t have indulged in, and has been...problematic since I ended our purely physical relationship almost six months ago.”

      For all her sass, color skimmed up Natalie’s cheeks. “Problematic how?”

      “She knows my relationship patterns. She knew it was only an affair. When I retreated to my lab—refueled and ready—”

      “What do you mean...refueled?”

      “After every big project release, I need to fill the well, so to speak.”

      “And you do this...refueling by sleeping with a woman you don’t care about?”

      Her distaste made him frown. “I care about the woman’s pleasure. And mine. But, . Gisela knew that. Knew my pattern. I made it clear. After it was over, she started texting me a hundred times a day. She’d cry, make a scene at the few social events I attended. She flew to San Francisco and accosted me at a cyber security conference.

      “Showed up outside our estate in Lake Como. Cornered my brother, Leo, at one of the events where her father was present, too.”

      “And her father is someone whose feelings you do give a damn about?” she said tartly.

      Massimo scowled. “Giuseppe Fiore is one of the most powerful banking tycoons in Milan, in all of Italy. BCS is in the running for a hundred-billion-euro security contract with his banks that spans a decade. Leo thinks it’s going to make dealing with him awkward because of Gisela.

      “Why should a fling she came into with her eyes open cause problems for me now?”

      “Because people are not algorithms that give you the same, expected results every time?”

      “Once Giuseppe sees me with you, he’ll understand that Gisela and I are long over. And this is the best way for me to keep an eye on you.”

      “If this tycoon’s so rich and powerful, and his daughter’s good enough to be your...whatever, why not just marry her? Or are you holding out for love?”

      He stared at her, wondering if she was joking again. Steady brown eyes held his. “Tut, tut, Natalie...you disappoint me. The last thing I need in my life is a wife who wants love and all the rainbows it brings with it. I have nothing to give a wife at present. Or in the foreseeable future.

      “Just do your part, ? The compensation I provide should be big enough for you to get over your distaste for me,” he mocked.

      Her nostrils flared. “And if I say no? If I tell your ex and your grandmother that it’s all a big pretense?”

      “You won’t do that.”

      “I just—”

      “Be smart about this, Natalie.” All humor fled his tone. “If I find you’ve told me the truth about your financials, about this not being a job, then what do you have to lose? For once in your life, maybe you could use your interesting capabilities to make a living. Spend a few months in the lap of luxury in Milan. Pretend to be the fiancée of the most—”

      “Arrogant, high-handed man on the planet?”

      “So?”

      “Fine. I agree to your conditions.”

       “Bene.”

      He stepped out of the limo and helped her do the same, keeping his fingers around her wrist. He liked having the feel of her in his hands, this mystery hacker who’d haunted his days and nights for weeks.

      “All that’s left now is to swap our life histories and practice the intimacy we have to pretend in front of my family and the whole world.”

      A pithy curse fell from her mouth and Massimo looked down at her.

      She was truly the most interesting woman he’d ever met. He wouldn’t hesitate to send her to jail if he found her loyalties lay with their enemy, but he would regret it all the same.

      And he didn’t understand even that negligible emotion dogging his rationality, his judgment.

      It had never done so before.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      AFTER A TRANSATLANTIC flight to Milan with a creative genius who peppered her with a million incisive questions meant to unsettle her lies. Throwing in a magnificent view of white-tipped Alps, which she’d probably never see again in her life—except maybe on the return flight on her way to jail in New York. Then a quick helicopter ride up to the shores of Lake Como—because, of course, the once-in-a-lifetime scenic drive from Milan to the lake would take forever and time was a precious commodity to a tech billionaire. Finally arriving at a destination where she was nothing but a prisoner, Natalie foolishly assumed she would become oblivious to her surroundings—not the man, of course—or at least be too exhausted mentally and physically to take much more in.

      She was wrong.

      The chopper landed on the side of a hill, in a sea of lush, perfectly manicured gardens with azaleas and gigantic rhododendrons and a long avenue of tall plane trees that created a walkway to the lakefront. A small boat floated at the end of the steps. Beyond, the calm waters of Lake Como glittered like a dark blanket creating a stunning sight littered with boats of various sizes floating lazily to the gorgeously lit-up houses and villages scattered about.

      As Natalie followed Massimo, who seemed to have forgotten about her existence, amid carefully sculpted flower beds, she spotted a hidden cave enclosed by more azaleas and even an artificial Japanese-style


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