Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
hardly think so,” she said haughtily.
His head dipped swiftly, and she closed her eyes in reaction. She could feel his breath on her lips, and she shivered with anticipation even while her brain struggled to catch up.
“I think you lie to yourself,” Nico said, and then he laughed softly as he pulled away.
Tina’s eyes snapped open as her brain finally engaged. She took a step backward, thudded into her still closed door. She’d thought he was going to kiss her. And she’d wanted it.
Fire burned her from the inside out—but was it the fire of shame, or of desire? “I don’t want you,” she said firmly. “I don’t.”
His smile mocked her. “Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But we both know it’s a lie.”
Nico sat in the dark with his laptop and went over the figures again. Then he sprawled back in his chair, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.
Even in death, Alessio Gavretti had the power to irritate him. More than irritate him, apparently.
Nico swore softly. He’d spent years trying to impress the man who wasn’t impressed with anything—unless it wore a very short skirt and had very large breasts—but his father had always treated him with a cool indifference that had been the hallmark of his personality.
Nothing Nico ever did made a dent in his father’s reserve, though the man had come to his races a few times. Nico had been the impetus behind Gavretti Manufacturing in the first place, though it hadn’t been his original plan when he’d first gone to his father to ask for support. No, he’d wanted to back Renzo—but his father wouldn’t hear of it.
“Why should I invest in this man’s business when you are perfectly capable of starting your own business, Niccolo? No, build the motorcycles yourself, but do not ask me for money for another.”
Nico frowned. That had been a pivotal moment in his life, though he’d not realized it at the time. He’d built the motorcycles, when he’d realized he had no other choice, and he’d lost the only friend he’d ever truly had. It still hurt in places he didn’t like to examine, and for that he blamed the woman in his guest room. Without her, he wouldn’t be thinking about this so much tonight.
He’d spent so many years not having a conscience that to be reminded it had not always been the case was more unsettling than he would have liked.
He shoved himself upright and went through the open door onto the balcony. It was quiet outside, dark. He welcomed the solitude. The scents of bougainvillea and lavender filled the air, and far below him the waters of the lake lapped at the rock upon which the castle stood.
It was peaceful. And it made him desperate, as well. He could lose it all if he didn’t figure this out.
He’d had no idea, until his father had died and the estate had fallen into his hands, just how much of a tangle it was in. Alessio Gavretti had spent money like he had a printing press in the basement—and so had Nico’s mother.
They’d separated years ago, but never divorced. His father spent money on women, and his mother spent it on clothing, jewels and homes. Over the years, they’d managed to rack up an impressive roster of loans and long-term debts. It was as if each one had been trying to outdo the other.
Now Nico had to somehow manage to keep the world from knowing how close the Gavretti fortunes teetered to the brink.
He wanted to laugh at the irony. He’d threatened Tina with ruin for her brother if she did not agree to marry him, and yet he was the one who could be ruined if knowledge of the estate’s financial matters became public at the wrong moment. He did not doubt that Renzo D’Angeli would snap up Gavretti Manufacturing and sell it off for scrap.
Nico didn’t blame him. In his position, he’d do the same—and without a shred of remorse, either.
Nico leaned on the balustrade and peered at the lights of the village in the distance. He couldn’t let it happen, and he damn sure couldn’t let Tina refuse to marry him. Without a marriage, he would have no claim to his child, especially if she refused to publicly acknowledge him as the father, no matter what she said about papers and signatures.
And why did that matter so much?
It wasn’t as if he knew the first thing about being a father, or even that he had latent fatherly instincts coming to the fore. Nor had he wanted a wife or a child to interfere with the way he ran his life. He was free, unencumbered by entanglements, and uninterested in changing the way he lived.
Yes, if he were to let her walk away, he could work on saving the Gavretti estate and think about finding a proper wife later.
Nico snorted. What was a proper wife? His mother had been a proper wife, hand-selected by his father’s family, and look how that had worked out. Two bitter, selfish people who’d produced one child and then used that child in their feud against each other.
Anger ate at him, burning in his gut the way it always did when he thought of his parents and the empty childhood he’d had. Oh, he’d had everything money could buy, but he’d lacked the one thing it couldn’t: love.
Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to the D’Angelis. There had only been the three of them, but they’d had enough love in their home to fill him with its glow simply by association.
He glanced over at the glass doors that led from Tina’s room. They were shut, the curtains drawn, but there was a light on inside. The light of the television flickered in the gap where the curtains hadn’t quite come together all the way.
A wave of longing filled him, stunning him with its potency. He wanted to walk inside there and take her in his arms again, fill her body with his and shut out the world. It was melancholy and stress getting the best of him, he knew that, but it made the feeling no less powerful.
If he were still in Rome, he’d head out to a club for a few hours, call one of the women on his contact list. He’d engage in a night of wanton sex and wake up refreshed and ready to tackle his problems again.
Love had nothing to do with it.
No matter how much he might have longed for his parents’ love, or how much he’d admired the D’Angelis’ wealth of it, he knew that love was ephemeral in his world. He’d grown up in a family who loved themselves more than each other, and he expected that was how his life would continue. He was thirty years old and he’d never felt even a glimmering of love for another person.
Until the moment Valentina D’Angeli had walked back into his life and told him she was expecting his child. He didn’t kid himself that he’d fallen into instant and overwhelming love with this baby, this collection of cells growing in her body, but something had happened.
He’d felt as if she’d punched him in the gut, and the feeling hadn’t abated over the past few hours. He didn’t know what it was, but he wasn’t letting her walk away. He hadn’t intended to marry her, but in the end he’d realized it was the only way.
Aside from ensuring him access to his child, marrying Tina would give her brother pause. If Renzo did get wind of Nico’s financial troubles, he would think twice about ruining the man his sister had married.
Mercenary, yes. But Nico damn well didn’t care. He’d been mercenary for so long now that he couldn’t bother growing a conscience for one woman. No matter how she tugged at long forgotten memories of acceptance and hope.
IT was midmorning when Tina awoke, and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. But then it all came back with brutal clarity and she sat up with a gasp. She was marooned in the middle of a lake, held captive by a dark and dangerous man who insisted that she marry him.
She