скачать книгу бесплатно
The Unwanted Conti Bride
Tara Pammi
‘I want to marry you.’If Sophia Rossi wants to save her father’s business, then merging the Rossi and Conti empires is the only way. Luca Conti broke her heart once before, but this time Sophia’s in the driving seat. Except Luca can still make her body tremble with just a look!Luca has spent years cultivating his ‘Conti Devil’ reputation to mask the darkness he inherited from his father; a façade that Sophia should be all-too familiar with. Still, the shrewd businessman can see the benefits of her proposal… He might not want her as his bride, but he’ll enjoy having her in his bed!
Luca bent toward her. She was diminutive to his own lean six-two. “What is it that suddenly interests you about me, Sophia? Have you finally decided you need another orgasm to sustain you for the next decade?”
Flames scorched her skin—that was how hot she felt. Yes floated to her lips, as if every cell inside her had conspired to form that word without her permission. This was easy for him—too easy—riling her up, sinking under her skin. Even knowing what he was, still she reacted like a moth to a flame.
“Not everything has to have a sexual connotation in life.”
He made to speak, but before he could she covered his mouth with her hand. Long, elegant fingers traced the tender skin of her wrist, leaving brands on her sensitive flesh. The center of her palm burned with the heat of his mouth. Slowly, as if savoring every second of touching her, he pulled her hand from his mouth. Of course life itself was a big joke to be enjoyed for Luca Conti.
“What did you think I was going to say, Sophia?”
She pursed her mouth tight and took a deep breath. “I have a proposal I’d like to make to you—one that is mutually beneficial to us both.”
“There is nothing you can offer me,” he said, his gaze flicking over her, dismissal and insult all wrapped up in that few seconds, “that I won’t get from another woman with a whisper, Sophia. Nothing remotely tempting.”
“You haven’t even heard it.”
“Not interested—”
“I want to marry you.”
The Legendary Conti Brothers (#ulink_72ebdca4-98ad-5c99-936f-f05ab0ffbcf9)
The Sinner and the Saint meet their match!
Known throughout the world as the Conti Sinner and the Conti Saint, these legendary Italian brothers have been the focused goal of many a gold-digger.
But hands off, ladies—that’s now finally at an end!
For rumours are that Leandro, the Conti Saint, has a seven-year-old secret … and Luca, the Conti Sinner, is engaged!
Don’t miss the chance to get your hands on this fabulous new duet by Tara Pammi!
The Surprise Conti Child June 2016
The Unwanted Conti Bride July 2016
The Unwanted Conti Bride
Tara Pammi
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TARA PAMMI can’t remember a moment when she wasn’t lost in a book—especially a romance, which was much more exciting than a mathematics textbook at school. Years later, Tara’s wild imagination and love for the written word revealed what she really wanted to do. Now she pairs alpha males who think they know everything with strong women who knock that theory and them off their feet!
Contents
COVER (#u65a20239-718d-58cd-84aa-db4775fdadff)
INTRODUCTION (#ue5471b7c-ca9a-54ec-8b5a-a77815b7900f)
The Legendary Conti Brothers (#ulink_ba19115d-dbac-528d-bfc0-8a055f3bd807)
TITLE PAGE (#u30f11470-ea97-57c7-a56f-7d6b0c703d88)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u6b597113-9a87-521a-92f4-e875ff161bdd)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_70b5eb2e-7c06-50e1-b0dd-f69d34c6cc1c)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_f5f75557-a171-5ba3-8258-f4cbc2d1adb9)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_05bc779e-c561-561f-bbdd-6b4b452cb6d3)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_bc653a35-5563-5c8b-b6ba-a1764f64ce16)
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)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c1d5350f-c445-5f44-a29c-61bc7739325f)
TONIGHT, SOPHIA ROSSI decided with mounting desperation, her spirit animal would be a skunk.
Because desperation had a particularly pungent stink. It probably clung to her pores, spraying whiffs of it over pitying and curious bystanders, betraying her panic.
She had never belonged in the uber-rich Milanese society that her stepfather and mother dwelled in, was only a Rossi because Salvatore had adopted her after marrying her mother when Sophia had been thirteen. Facts of her life she’d never been allowed to forget by the crowd around her.
She’d somehow weathered the end of her engagement to Leandro Conti.
But this latest rumor—her supposed affair with her one real friend, Kairos Constantinou, who was Leandro’s sister’s new husband—had made her an object of gossip and even malice. If she’d known what a spectacle it made of her, she’d have refused Leandro’s invite to his brother Luca’s birthday party, which had been extended weeks ago. The invite was only driven by his guilt at breaking their engagement.
Her fingers tightening over the fragile champagne flute, she made a casual, painted-smile-in-place round around the curving, wide balcony of the Villa de Conti.
Somehow they’d made her into this temperamental shrew, this marriage-wrecking wanton that had become a liability to her family rather than an asset.
How had she, despite all her hard work, jeopardized the most important goal of her life—to support her stepfather, Salvatore, and rebuild Rossi Leather until her half brothers were old enough to take over?
Antonio Conti, the patriarch of the Conti family, reached her just as Sophia deflected another barbed insult. Glassy and brittle it might be, but she didn’t let the smile drop from her face.
Silver threaded abundantly through his black hair. Antonio reminded her of a wolf—cunning, wily and quick to gobble up unsuspecting prey.
“Tell me, Sophia,” he said, neatly cornering her near a white pillar, “whose idea was it to propose a marriage between my grandson and you?”
Swallowing her shock, Sophia stared at him. No one should have even guessed. “Our engagement is irrelevant now that Leandro is married.”
“Your stepfather is ambitious but not clever,” Antonio continued as if Sophia hadn’t even spoken. “Hardworking but no vision. Even knowing of my desperation to find a bride for my grandsons, Salvatore would have never thought to offer you.
“He has no use for women.”
The words were curt, even cruel in their efficient summation. But true.
Sophia had been trying for a decade to get Sal to see the value she could provide for the company, with zero progress. He gave her small projects, refused to listen to her ideas for Rossi Leather.
All he cared about was leaving a legacy for her half brothers, Bruno and Carlo.
“It was mine,” she admitted. What did she have to lose at this point? “There was advantage to your family and mine in that match.”
Sal could hold grudges on Leandro Conti and the Conti family for breaking the engagement, but Sophia was nothing if not practical.
Rossi Leather couldn’t tide over their latest financial setback by alienating the powerful Contis. Antonio still held much sway over the older generation in the leather industry and Leandro Conti, his eldest grandson and CEO of Conti Luxury Goods, held the younger, more heated generation.
Antonio’s second grandson, Luca Conti, however...had no clout or morals. Probably no talent. Just oodles of charm, sexuality and utter self-indulgence.
Even thinking about him made her cross. And bitter. And her knees weak.
She’d spent nights pacing her bedroom, sleepless, panicky, when the idea of marrying Leandro had presented itself to her. She’d made herself sick. She’d had nightmares about her past and present morphing into a distasteful, torturous future.
But the welfare of her family had precedence over naive decade-old dreams.
Antonio didn’t look surprised. But then he’d known to ask that question, hadn’t he? His silvery brows rose. “You’re a curiously resourceful young woman, Sophia.”
Sophia’s cheeks heated up. “Even for a half-Italian bastard girl with a broken engagement behind her, you mean?”
He continued looking at her.
If she hadn’t lost her finer sensibilities a long time ago, if she hadn’t developed elephant-thick skin, she’d have been insulted by the purely assessing look the old man cast her, from the top of her dark hair in an efficient knot to the soles of her black Conti pumps, her only nod to fashion, with leisurely stops at her face and several other areas of her body.
“I’m not a cow to be assessed,” she added with a glare. The flash of something in his gaze gave her the creeps. “I’m not in the market for an alliance anymore, either.” There was only so much she could stomach, apparently, even for her family. “Of any kind,” she added for good measure.
Amusement shifted the rigid lines of his face. Flashes of a similar set of features sent a flutter down her spine. “You’re not only dedicated to your family but you’re also sharp and fearless. I like you, Sophia.”
Rarely did the opposite sex, except for her ten-year old brothers, say something that wasn’t condescending or insulting to her. “I wish I could say the same. But I’ve seen you use everyone’s shortcomings to your own advantage, including Sal’s.”
His smile lingered. “Then why not advise your stepfather?”
She remained silent, frustration a quiet snarl inside her. Because Sal never listened to her. He loved her, but not enough to trust her judgment or intelligence when it came to Rossi Leather. All of which she was aware the cunning wolf knew.
“I can give you a way to help Salvatore, Sophia. Without throwing yourself at a married man.”
Stinging anger burned Sophia’s cheeks but she stayed still. He’d baited her well and he knew it. She was going to throttle whoever had started that distasteful rumor.
“I will pour capital into Salvatore’s business,” Antonio continued, “create new contracts for him, bring him back into the old class, so to speak. After his string of poor business decisions, he certainly needs the help.”
“I’m not for sale,” Sophia retorted, a slow panic building inside. She felt like a donkey with a carrot visible but just out of reach. “I suggested marriage to Leandro as a way to help Sal, but I’d have kept every vow I made to him. I would’ve been a good wife.”
“You believe I did not realize that? You believe I would let Salvatore...persuade me into letting you marry my grandson without learning all about you? It is exactly why I make this proposal.”
Her pulse sped up. “What is your proposal?” she forced herself to say.
“I do have another grandson, si? Bring Luca to the altar, marry him and I will take a firm handle on Rossi financial matters. Your mother, your brothers, their futures will never be in peril.”
“No!” Her sharp reply turned heads toward them.
Marry Luca, the Conti Devil?
The very idea was like walking on shards of glass for the rest of her life. Bare feet and with a lead weight over her head. “I don’t want to spend an evening with the Conti Devil, much less marry him.”
As though invoked by their discussion, Luca Conti appeared in the midst of the perfectly manicured lawn before them, a tall, gorgeous blonde following him like a faithful puppy.
A woman on his arm, as always.
The rage in those languid, smoky eyes the night of her engagement to his brother had haunted her. But he’d avoided her as she’d done for a decade.
His dark, wavy hair was in that same stylish cut. Low on the sides and piled high on his head, making his angular face even narrower. Sophistication and grace oozed from his every stride. But any kind of austerity ended with his hair.
Because Luca Conti was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
His face, now visible only in flashes as he moved through the crowd with that loose-limbed stride had such perfect lines that her breath caught even from this distance.
Broad shoulders lovingly hugged by gray silk, narrowing to a tapered waist and muscular thighs honed to pure steel by hours and hours of swimming. He moved sinuously through the crowd, the tall woman a beautiful accessory around his lean and wiry body, a little on the thin side.
But who could remember all that after one glance at his face?
Wide-set, jet-black eyes, with dark blue smudges underneath, always the shadows underneath his eyes as if the man never slept, a steel blade of a nose and a wide mouth made of plump, lush lips that invited one, two...oh, a hundred glances.
Collagen had nothing on this man’s mouth...
