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Capelli's Captive Virgin
Capelli's Captive Virgin
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Capelli's Captive Virgin

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Capelli's Captive Virgin
Sarah Morgan

Lindsay Lockheart was big on control, he thought dryly. And it would be his pleasure to undo that control…button by button! Ruthless Sicilian Alessio Capelli always gets what he wants. Lindsay turned him down once before, and now that she is back in his life he is determined that she won’t do it again. He will use her and discard her, as is his usual habit with women. And circumstance has provided him with the ideal opportunity: Lindsay has been forced to step into her missing sister’s shoes and work for him.Lindsay might be his match by day, but by night Alessio will be the one in control. He relishes the thought of having a virgin in his bed, and he’ll do everything to keep her captive – until he’s ready to dismiss her…



‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’

She struggled to keep her voice level. ‘You have to embarrass me.’

‘Mi dispiace,’ he purred, his eyes glinting wickedly. ‘I’m sorry—unfair of me, I know. It’s just that I love watching you blush. Your cheeks are the same colour they will be after we’ve had frantic sex.’

‘That is never going to happen. Accept it.’

‘That shows how little you know me. I have a compulsive need to change situations that aren’t to my liking.’ He smiled—a slow, dangerous smile. ‘It’s called negotiation.’

‘Negotiation is when both parties get what they want—it’s supposed to be a win-win situation.’

‘I understand the winning bit—I’m not so good at accepting half a solution.’ His tone was gently apologetic, but his dark eyes were as cool and unemotional as ever. ‘When I want something, I want all of it. Not part of it.’

‘You’re not my type, Alessio.’

‘That’s what makes it so exciting, tesoro…’

Sarah Morgan brings you sexy, sassy, sensational stories!

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CAPELLI’S

CAPTIVE VIRGIN

BY

SARAH MORGAN

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CAPELLI’S CAPTIVE VIRGIN

CHAPTER ONE

‘SIGNOR CAPELLI doesn’t have an opening in his diary for five months.’ The stunning blonde receptionist spoke faultless English and was clearly experienced in providing an impenetrable shield between her sexy billionaire boss and the public. ‘You wouldn’t believe the demand for divorce lawyers of his calibre. And anyway, his personal clients are all men.’

Lindsay dug her nails into her palms. ‘I don’t need a divorce lawyer. That isn’t why I want to see him.’

And she knew his clients were men.

She knew everything about him. She knew that when a man instructed Alessio Capelli to handle his divorce, the wife in question might as well give up. The ruthless Sicilian lawyer had apparently made it his life’s mission to ensure that women gained as little as possible from the end of a relationship. She also knew that his various business interests had made him a billionaire in his early thirties, which meant that he now worked purely for entertainment value.

And what sort of man found entertainment in crushing people’s fragile marriages?

The girl tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the glass desk. ‘I could call one of his team?’

‘I need to speak to him.’ Eaten up by worry, Lindsay tried to think clearly. She hadn’t slept for three nights, the adrenaline was surging round her body and she felt physically sick as she contemplated what was unfolding before her. ‘Please—I’ve flown to Rome specially—it’s a personal matter. Something between myself and Signor Capelli.’ A vision of her sister’s pale face tormented her, but Lindsay had no intention of revealing her family secrets to this glacial beauty.

It was an unnerving experience—trying to gain access to the last man in the world she wanted to see. A bit like stepping towards the edge of a very sheer, crumbling cliff face, knowing that there could be only one outcome.

She was going to fall—

The receptionist raised her beautifully shaped eyebrows and it was obvious from her disbelieving gaze that she found it unlikely that someone like Lindsay would ever share anything personal with Alessio Capelli. ‘Did he give you his mobile number?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then clearly he doesn’t want you to contact him. Women who have a special relationship—’ the receptionist paused for emphasis and gave a faintly patronising smile ‘—always have that number.’

Lindsay wanted to tell her that her taste in men didn’t run to arrogant, heartless marriage wreckers, but she sensed that she wouldn’t be believed.

Alessio Capelli was a magnet for women. His profession should have acted as a deterrent but instead it seemed to increase his appeal—as if every woman on the planet wanted to prove that they could win over this notorious cynic.

She stepped aside as another beautiful girl sauntered up to the bold curve of glass that formed the ultra-modern reception desk. ‘The boss is in the gym, taking out his frustrations on a punchbag. If that file he is waiting for ever arrives, send it straight up to him on the sixteenth floor.’

As she listened in to the conversation Lindsay’s gaze slid towards the bank of elevators at the back of the foyer. Could she? Her heart skipped a beat at the shear audacity of the idea. No, she couldn’t possibly. She didn’t break rules—

But somehow her feet were walking—quickly.

Waiting to feel a hand on her shoulder at any moment, Lindsay shot through the open doors and slammed her shaking hand onto the button that said sixteen.

As the doors closed she felt nothing but relief and then realised that her respite was only temporary.

She still had to get to Alessio Capelli.

Her heart was pumping, her palms were clammy and she fumbled with the lock of her bag as she searched frantically through the work she’d brought to do on the plane. Work she’d been too worried to touch. Exactly what sort of file was Alessio Capelli waiting for? Something buff-coloured and formal? Thick? Thin? Something in a sealed envelope? Hands shaking, she pulled out a file and tucked it under her arm. It didn’t look particularly official, but it would have to do.

Sick with nerves, she checked her appearance in the mirrored wall. Looking back at her was a serious young woman dressed in a crisp white shirt and a straight black skirt that stopped just above the knee. Her pale blonde hair was twisted into a severe knot at the back of her head and her make-up was discreet and professional. She looked—businesslike.

No wonder the receptionist hadn’t thought she was the sort of woman likely to have attracted the attention ofAlessio Capelli, a man renowned for being seen with extremely beautiful women.

Something stirred inside her. A tiny spark of female vanity that she tried almost instantly to suppress.

But she had attracted his attention, hadn’t she?

Once.

Once, he’d noticed her. In fact he’d more than noticed her.

If she hadn’t rejected him, they’d have—

Lindsay put her hands on her skirt and slid it slowly up her thighs until it revealed the same amount of leg as the girl downstairs had been showing. She stared at herself for a moment. Then she gave a nervous start and let the skirt drop just as the lift doors opened.

For crying out loud—what was she thinking?

Trying to look confident, she approached a set of glass doors manned by a muscular security guard.

Alessio Capelli certainly made sure he was well protected, she thought dryly, wondering whether it was because of his indecent wealth or the number of enemies he’d made in the pursuit of that wealth.

He was hard, cynical and ruthlessly ambitious. Unfortunately he was also sexier than any man had a right to be and Lindsay felt a moment of pure panic as the moment of confrontation grew closer.

She focused her mind on her sister.

Ruby. This was about Ruby, not her.

Ruby was her one and only priority.

‘I’m here to see Alessio Capelli.’ She smiled at the security guard. ‘Sto cercando il Signor Capelli.’

The man looked at the file under her arm and immediately punched a number into a keypad. The doors opened, revealing a state-of-the-art gym offering an incredible view over the rooftops of Rome.

Despite the breathtaking architecture, it was an all-male domain—the atmosphere thickened by testosterone, the room a melting pot of male ego, pumped muscle and raw aggression.

The security guard took one look at her uncertain expression and gestured towards a man who was throwing hard, rhythmic punches at a bag.

‘That’s him. That’s the boss.’

Lindsay was grateful for his help because, without it, she never would have been able to identify the infamous Sicilian.

It wasn’t what she’d expected of a billionaire with a taste for the finer things in life. But perhaps it was symbolic, she thought wryly, that Alessio Capelli had chosen this particular method of keeping his body in top physical condition. Did he run or lift weights like the other men in the room? No. He chose to thump the living daylights out of something.

Which simply confirmed what she already knew—that he was a tough, ruthless, cold-hearted machine who knew nothing about emotion.

Several of the other men glanced in her direction and suddenly she felt as vulnerable as a lone gazelle finding itself in the middle of a pride of lions.

Gritting her teeth, Lindsay kept her own eyes forward and followed the security guard across the room.

Alessio Capelli hadn’t seen her. He continued to pound his fists into the bag, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bunched in a display of physical force. His bronzed skin gleamed with sweat and his shorts and vest top displayed a physique honed to perfection by hard, punishing exercise. His shoulders were wide and powerful, his body athletic as he threw punch after punch with ruthless precision and impeccable timing.

Watching this display of brutal male aggression, Lindsay faltered, sure that the security guard had made a mistake.

This was the wrong man. It wasn’t him.

It was six months since she’d seen him, but Alessio Capelli’s smooth sophistication and startling good looks were still inconveniently lodged in her brain. Not that it had been looks alone that had drawn her attention. For her, the quality that had made him dangerously attractive was his astonishing intellect. He was a man who used his razor-sharp brain to twist legal precedent to his advantage. His weapon was words, and he used them with lethal skill to achieve the outcome he wanted, whether it was winning a case or seducing a woman into his bed. As a lawyer he was, she knew, the very best.

As a human being—

Lindsay flinched as the man in front of her punched his fist hard into the bag. There was nothing smooth or suave about this particular man. On the contrary, he seemed to represent masculinity at its most basic level.

And then the angle of his body shifted and Lindsay drew in a sharp breath because she could now see the tiny scar above his left eye and the slight bump on his nose that blemished an otherwise faultlessly handsome face.

Once seen, never forgotten.

Every inch of his cold, hard features was etched into her memory for ever.

Horrified by the sudden flash of awareness that exploded through her body, Lindsay took a step backwards regretting the circumstances that had forced her into his path again.

Averting her eyes from his spectacular body, she suddenly wished he were dressed in a formal suit and standing on the other side of a very large desk.

How could she possibly have a serious conversation here?

He was half naked, for goodness’ sake.

Half naked and angry, if the power behind those rhythmic punches was anything to go by.

That missing file had obviously been something important.

He still hadn’t noticed her and it crossed her mind that she could still slink away and wait outside the door for him to finish his workout.

And then his gaze shifted and he stilled.

Dark, deep-set eyes connected with hers and in that single moment the world seemed to shrink. Nothing existed outside the square metre that contained the both of them.

They stared at each other in silence, exchanging a long, lingering glance that was wholly sexual. Trapped by the intimate demands of his intense dark gaze, Lindsey felt the blood pound in her head and she ceased to breathe.

He’d had exactly the same effect on her the first time she’d seen him and it was as terrifying now as it had been then.

Even knowing who he was and what he did for a living had done nothing to lessen the sheer physical impact of the man. He was unashamedly and blatantly masculine, his Sicilian roots evident in every bold line and hard angle of his impossibly handsome face. Stripped virtually naked, he was even more breathtaking. Unlike most men, he had no need of clothes as a disguise for physical imperfections. Alessio Capelli looked even better undressed than he did dressed.

His eyes were dark and framed by such thick, long lashes that it was as if nature had decided to emphasise such an unusually striking feature with extra care. Other men might have used those lashes as an effective screen for his emotions, but not Alessio Capelli. His gaze was direct and unflinching and she suspected that the reason he never felt the need to conceal his emotions was because he’d never actually experienced an emotion of any sort in his life.

He dealt with facts and numbers. And they were big numbers if the rumours were correct.