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Claiming His One-Night Child
Jackie Ashenden
He’s the billionaire she loves to hate… And now she’s having his baby! Notorious Italian playboy Dante Cardinali lives life on the edge. So when Stella Montefiore dramatically confronts him, vowing to settle a family vendetta, he’s intrigued by her bravery… and enticed by their passionate attraction! It explodes into an intense and sizzling encounter—that leaves innocent Stella shockingly pregnant! Now to claim his heir, Dante must marry this dangerously alluring woman…
He’s the billionaire she loves to hate...
And now she’s having his baby!
Notorious Italian playboy Dante Cardinali lives life on the edge. So when Stella Montefiore dramatically confronts him, vowing to settle a family vendetta, he’s intrigued by her bravery...and enticed by their passionate attraction! It explodes into an intense and sizzling encounter...that leaves innocent Stella shockingly pregnant! Now to claim his heir, Dante must marry this dangerously alluring woman...
Feel the heat in this sizzling revenge romance
JACKIE ASHENDEN writes dark, emotional stories, with alpha heroes who’ve just got the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr Jax, two kids and two rats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their gutsy heroines she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, wasting time on social media or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband. To keep up to date with Jackie’s new releases and other news, sign up to her newsletter at jackieashenden.com (http://jackieashenden.com).
Also by Jackie Ashenden (#uc22d45c2-aa2c-5f31-813b-f0b28d6eceff)
Shocking Italian Heirs miniseries
Claiming His One-Night Child
Mills & Boon DARE
The Knights of Ruin miniseries
Ruined
Destroyed
Kings of Sydney miniseries
King’s Price
King’s Rule
King’s Ransom
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Claiming His One-Night Child
Jackie Ashenden
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08809-1
CLAIMING HIS ONE-NIGHT CHILD
© 2019 Jackie Ashenden
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#uc22d45c2-aa2c-5f31-813b-f0b28d6eceff)
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Text to speech
To my dad.
He’ll probably never read this book,
but just in case he does…
Hi, Dad.
Contents
Cover (#u829eb80f-9ca6-569c-a74e-968864f28e65)
Back Cover Text (#u40536b4a-59cc-5f03-a3f9-54d575ebc29d)
About the Author (#u9643515b-0cab-57de-a245-822100a307f3)
Booklist (#uc675c76a-c564-5db9-9fec-90262c82e779)
Title Page (#u6738b79a-b911-5411-a18f-530af8052729)
Copyright (#uae107e56-78de-521a-b5dd-2bbf0b6d8f7a)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u6f5af398-97e9-560c-904d-cb24502812d6)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue13851b9-efba-56dd-8f87-431c8136b658)
CHAPTER TWO (#ufddaf8f3-7ab0-5a33-8d69-49d306bfaaca)
CHAPTER THREE (#u9ecfb085-2b2d-5657-bd65-079bdae6c502)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc22d45c2-aa2c-5f31-813b-f0b28d6eceff)
AS ONE OF Europe’s most notorious playboys, Dante Cardinali was used to waking up in strange beds. He was also used to beautiful women standing beside said beds and looking down at him. There had even been a couple of instances where he’d woken up with his wrists and ankles still cuffed, the way they clearly were now.
What was unfamiliar was the barrel of the gun pointed at his head.
Dante had never been a man who cared over much about anything, but one thing he did care about was himself. And his life. And the fact that the beautiful woman standing over him was holding a gun in a very competent grip.
The same beautiful woman who’d been in the VIP area of his favourite Monte Carlo club and with whom he’d spent some time...talking...because he hadn’t been in the mood for seduction—something that had been happening to him more often than not of late. It was a worrying trend if he thought about it too deeply, which he didn’t. Because he didn’t think about anything too deeply.
Whatever. He couldn’t remember how long he’d spent talking to her, because he couldn’t remember full-stop. In fact, he couldn’t remember much at all about the evening and, given his current situation, it probably meant he’d blacked out at some point.
What he did remember was the beautiful woman’s piercingly blue eyes, fractured through with silver like a shattered sky.
Those eyes were looking at him now with curious intentness, as if she was trying to decide whether or not to shoot him.
Well, considering his wrists and ankles were cuffed and he wasn’t dead already, it meant there was some doubt. And if there was some doubt, he could probably induce her to give in to it.
He could pretty much convince anyone to give in to anything if he put his mind to it.
‘Darling,’ he drawled, his mouth dry and his voice a little thick. ‘A gun is slightly overkill, don’t you think? If you want to sleep with me, just take your clothes off and come here. You don’t need to tie me to the bed.’ He frowned, his head suspiciously muzzy but beginning to clear. ‘Or put something in my drink, for that matter.’
The woman’s cool gaze—she had told him her name but he couldn’t remember it—didn’t waver. ‘I don’t want to sleep with you, Dante Cardinali,’ she said, her icy tone a slap of cold water on his hot skin. ‘What I would like very much is to kill you.’
So. She was trying to kill him and she was very serious.
He should probably be a little more concerned about that gun and the intent in her fascinating eyes, and he definitely was. But, strangely, his most prevalent emotion wasn’t fear. No, it was excitement.
It had been a long time since he’d felt anything like excitement.
It had been a long time since he’d felt anything at all.
He stared at her, conscious of a certain tightening of his muscles and a slight elevation in his heartbeat. ‘That seems extreme.’
‘It is extreme. Then again, the punishment fits the crime.’
The barrel of the gun didn’t waver an inch and yet she hadn’t pulled the trigger. Interesting. Why not?
He let his gaze rove over her, interest tugging at him.
She was very small, built petite and delicate like a china doll, with hair the colour of newly minted gold coins, falling in a straight and gleaming waterfall over her shoulders. Her precise features were as lovely as her figure—a determined chin, finely carved cheekbones and a perfect little bow of a mouth.
She wore a satin cocktail dress the same kind of silvery blue as her eyes and it looked like silky fluid poured over her body, outlining the delicious curves of her breasts and hips, skimming gently rounded thighs.
A lovely little china shepherdess of a woman. Just his type.
Apart from the gun in his face, of course.
‘What crime?’ Dante asked with interest. ‘Are you Sicilian by any chance? Is this a vendetta situation?’ It was a question purely designed to keep her talking, as he knew already that she wasn’t Sicilian. Her Italian held a cadence from a different part of the country and one he was quite familiar with.
The sound of the island nation from where he’d been exiled along with the rest of the royal family years and years ago.
The island nation of which he’d once been a prince.
Monte Santa Maria.
‘No.’ Her tone was flat and very definite. ‘But you know that already, don’t you?’
Dante met her gaze. He was good at reading people—it was part of the reason he was so successful in the billion-dollar property-investment company he owned with his brother—and although this woman’s cool exterior seemed completely flawless he could see something flickering in the depths of her eyes. Uncertainty or indecision, he couldn’t tell which. Interesting. For all that she seemed competent and in charge, she still hadn’t pulled that trigger. And if she hadn’t done it now, she probably wouldn’t.
He’d seen killers before and this woman wasn’t one. In fact, he’d bet the entirety of Cardinal Developments on it.
‘Yes,’ he said, discreetly testing the cuffs on his ankles and wrists. They were firm. If he wanted to get out of them, she was going to have to unlock them. ‘Good catch. I love an intelligent woman.’
She took a step closer to the bed, the gun still unerringly pointed at his head. ‘You know what I love? A stupid man.’
Her nearness prompted a heady, blatantly sexual fragrance to flood over him, along with bits and pieces of his memory.
Ah, yes, it was all coming back to him now—sitting in his club in Monte Carlo, this pretty little thing catching his eye and smiling shyly. She’d been innocent and artless, a touch nervous and, despite her strongly sexual perfume, when she’d said it was her first time in a club he’d believed her.
