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The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty
Michelle Smart
One incredible night…Cara Delany shouldn’t have been surprised when Pepe Mastrangelo – world-renowned playboy –disappeared after their unforgettable night, leaving only cold sheets and X-rated memories… Or so she thought! But four months later, with more than herself to think of, she’s forced to face the sexy Sicilian again.One very big consequence!When the fiery redhead Pepe hasn’t been able to forget hurtles back into his life, proclaiming he’s the father of her child, it’s a role that he’s never expected – or wanted. Unsure if she’s telling the truth, Pepe has five months to uncover everything about Cara – and he knows just where to start!‘Michelle’s landscapes are stunning; she has me daydreaming all day!’ – Dorothy, Operations Manager, BridlingtonDiscover more at www.millsandboon.co.uk/michellesmart
‘I was a virgin!’
‘How was I supposed to know that? You’re a twenty-six-year-old woman.’
Pepe thought virgins of that age were extinct. It was a thought he kept to himself. Cara’s skin had gone as red as her hair. He didn’t particularly fancy being on the receiving end of a slap in front of his entire family, even if she would need a stepladder to reach him.
‘You used me,’ she said. ‘You let me believe you were serious and that we would see each other again.’
‘When? Tell me? When did I say we would see each other again?’
‘You said you wanted me to come to your new house in Paris so I could advise you on where to place the Cannelotti painting you bought in the auction.’
He shrugged. ‘That was business talk. You know about art and I needed an expert’s eye.’
‘You said it while dipping your finger in champagne and then placing it in my mouth so I could suck it off.’
‘What’s done is done. I’ve apologised, and as far as I’m concerned that’s the end of the matter. It’s been four months. I suggest you forget about it and move on.’
With that he stalked away, striding towards Luca and Grace, ready to tell them he was leaving.
‘Actually, it’s not the end of the matter.’
Something in the tone of her voice made him pause.
‘It’s impossible for me to “forget about it and move on".’
THE IRRESISTIBLE SICILIANS
Dark-hearted men, with devastating appeal!
These powerful Sicilian men are bound by years of family legacies and dark secrets.
But now the power rests with them.
No man would dare challenge these hot-blooded Sicilians …
But their women are another matter!
Have these world-renowned Sicilians met their match?
Read Luca Mastrangelo’s story in:
WHAT A SICILIAN HUSBAND WANTS
March 2014
Read Pepe Mastrangelo’s story in:
THE SICILIAN’S UNEXPECTED DUTY
April 2014
And look out for Francesco Calvetti’s story
coming soon!
The Sicilian’s Unexpected Duty
Michelle Smart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
MICHELLE SMART’S love affair with books began as a baby, when she would cuddle them in her cot. This love for all things wordy has never left her. A voracious reader of all genres, she found her love of romance was cemented at the age of twelve when she came across her first Mills & Boon
book. That book sparked a seed and, although she didn’t have the words to explain it then, she had discovered something special: that a book had the capacity to make her heart beat as if falling in love.
When not reading, or pretending to do the housework, Michelle loves nothing more than creating worlds of her own featuring handsome, brooding heroes and the sparkly, feisty women who can melt their frozen hearts. She hopes her books can make her readers’ hearts beat a little faster too.
Michelle Smart lives in Northamptonshire with her own hero and their two young sons.
This book is dedicated to Adam, Joe and Zak, my gorgeous Smarties.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u5d68d200-4252-522e-8c8f-451a8f2a23e0)
CHAPTER TWO (#u19ea34b2-d187-55fb-bf8e-2b052ef3bc15)
CHAPTER THREE (#ub973fcec-9678-569b-ada8-ba5e117c3011)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u8dd29eca-9606-58ba-840b-acc41f79f059)
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)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
PEPE MASTRANGELO HELPED himself to another glass of red wine from a passing maid and downed it in one. His aunt Carlotta, who had taken it upon herself to shadow him since they’d arrived back at his family home, was blathering on in his ear about something or other. Probably parroting her favourite inanities about when he, Pepe, was going to follow in his older brother’s footsteps and settle down. Namely, when was he planning to get married and have babies?
Aunt Carlotta was not the only guilty party in this matter. The entire Mastrangelo clan, along with the Lombardis from his mother’s side, all thought his private life was a matter of public consumption. Usually he took their nosiness in good part, knowing they meant well. He would deflect their questions with a cheeky grin, a wink and a quip about how there were so many beautiful women in the world he couldn’t possibly choose just one. Or words to that effect. Anything but admit he would rather swim in a pool of electric eels than marry.
Marriage was for martyrs and fools, and he was neither.
He’d almost married once, when he’d been young and foolish. His childhood sweetheart. The woman who’d ripped his heart out, torn it into shreds and left an empty shell.
Now he considered that he’d had a lucky escape. Once bitten, twice shy. Only complete idiots went back for a second helping of pain if it could be avoided.
Not that he ever shared that little titbit of information with people. Heaven forbid. They’d probably try to talk him into something ridiculous like therapy.
Today though, his usually quick repartee had deserted him. But then, he wasn’t usually fielding these questions with a pair of almond-shaped green eyes following his every move. To make it even harder to concentrate, those same eyes were drilling into him with pure loathing.
Cara Delaney.
He and Cara had been appointed his niece’s godparents. He’d been forced to sit next to her in the church. He’d been forced to stand by her side at the font.
He’d forgotten how pretty she was—with her large eyes, tiny nose and small heart-shaped lips, she looked like a ginger geisha. Although ginger was the wrong word to describe the red flame of hair that fell down her back. Today, wearing a red crushed-velvet dress that showcased her curvy figure yet barely displayed an inch of flesh, she looked more than pretty. She looked incredibly sexy. Under normal circumstances he’d have no hesitation in spending the day in her company, flirting with her, plying her with drinks, maybe seeing if a repeat performance could be on the cards.
Being in the presence of his ex-lovers was not usually a problem, especially as his ‘emotionally needy’ detector was so acute. As a rule, he could spot a ‘looking for marriage and babies’ woman at ten paces and avoid her at all costs. As such, meeting up with an ex-lover was usually no big deal.
This time was different. Under normal circumstances he hadn’t last seen them when he’d sneaked out of the hotel suite, leaving them sleeping in the very bed they’d just made love in. And usually he hadn’t stolen their phone.
As soon as the date for the christening had been set a month ago, he’d known he would have to see Cara again. It was inconceivable that she wouldn’t be there. She was his sister-in-law’s best friend.
He’d expected the loathing that would be pointed his way. He really couldn’t blame her for that. What he hadn’t expected was to feel so... The word that would explain the strange sickness churning in his stomach wouldn’t come. Whatever the word, he did not like it at all.
A quick glance at his watch confirmed he would have to endure her laser glare for another hour before he could leave for the airport. Tomorrow he’d be taking a tour of a profitable vineyard in the Loire Valley that he’d heard through the grapevine—pun intended—was being considered for sale. He wanted to get in there and, if viable, make an offer before any competitor started digging around.
‘I said, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ Aunt Carlotta’s voice had taken a distinctly frosty tone. Somehow, in between her non-stop nattering, she had managed to acquire Lily without him noticing. She held the baby aloft for his perusal.
He peered down at the chubby face with the black eyes staring up at him, and all he could think was how like a little dark-haired piglet she looked. ‘Yes, beautiful,’ he lied, forcing a wide smile.
Seriously, how could anyone think babies were beautiful? Cute at a push maybe, but beautiful? Why anyone raved about them was beyond him. They were the most boring of creatures. He quite liked toddlers though. Especially when they were getting up to mischief.
He was saved from having to fake any more enthusiasm by a great-aunt barging him out of the way so she too could coo at the poor child.
Using this momentary lapse of Aunt Carlotta’s attention, he sidled away.
Was this the way people acted at all christenings? From the way his relatives were behaving, anyone would think Lily had been conceived from a virgin birth. Having not attended a christening in nearly fifteen years, he wouldn’t know. Given a chance, he would have got out of this one too. But there’d been no way, not when he’d been made godfather. Luca, his brother, would have strung him up if he’d tried to avoid it.
He wondered how long it would take for Luca and Grace to try again. No doubt they would keep trying until a boy was born. His own parents had struck gold from the outset, the need for an heir immediately satisfied with Luca’s birth. Pepe’s own conception was more along the ‘spare’ lines and to give Luca a playmate.
Was he being unfair to his parents? He didn’t know or care. He’d been feeling out of sorts all day, and having the red-headed geisha glaring at him as if he were the Antichrist was not helping his mood.
Forget it, he thought, reaching for another glass of red from a passing maid. No one would notice if he left earlier than was deemed polite...
‘You look stressed, Pepe.’
He muttered an expletive under his breath.
He should have known he wouldn’t be able to escape without her collaring him. There had been something too determined in that expression of hers.
Plastering another fake smile on his face, he turned around and faced her. ‘Cara!’ he exclaimed with bonhomie so fake even Lily would see through it. Grabbing her shoulder with his free hand, he pulled her into him and leaned down to kiss both her cheeks. She was so short he almost had to double over. ‘How are you? Enjoying the party?’
Her dark coppery eyebrows knotted together into a glare. ‘Oh, yes. I’m having a marvellous time.’
Pretending not to notice the definite edge to her voice, he nodded and raised the wattage of his grin. ‘Fabulous. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have—’
‘Running away again, are you?’ Her Irish lilt had thickened since he’d last seen her. When they’d first met, here in Sicily three years ago, her voice had contained only the lightest of traces; by all accounts she’d left Ireland for England when she was a teenager. When he’d seduced her in Dublin four months ago, he’d noticed her accent had become more pronounced. Now there was no doubting her heritage.
‘I have to be somewhere.’
‘Really?’ If an inflection could cut glass, that one word would have done the trick. She nodded her head in his sister-in-law’s direction. ‘She’s the reason you stole my phone, isn’t she?’ It wasn’t a question.
He drew in a breath before meeting Cara’s stony glare. The last time he’d been with her, those eyes had been brimful of desire. ‘Yes. She’s the reason.’
Cara’s geisha lips always drew a second glance—her bottom lip was beautifully plump, as if it had been stung by a bee. Now she drew it tightly under her teeth and bit into it. When she released it, the lip was a darker, even more kissable red. Her eyes had become a laser death stare.
‘And was it my phone that led Luca to find her?’
There was no point in lying. She already knew the answers. Lying would demean them both. ‘Sì.’
‘You came all the way to Dublin, to the auction house where I work, spent two million euros on a painting, and all to get hold of my phone?’
‘Sì.’
She shook her head, her long copper locks whipping over her shoulders. ‘I take it the whole “I’ve always wanted to visit Dublin, please show me around” thing was also deliberate?’
‘Yes.’ He held her icy gaze and allowed the tiniest of softening into his tone. ‘I really did have a great weekend—you’re an excellent tour guide.’
‘And you’re an unmitigated...’ She buried the curse beneath a deep breath. ‘But that’s by the by. You seduced me for one reason and one reason only—so you could steal my phone the minute I fell asleep.’
‘That was the main reason,’ he agreed, experiencing the strangest tightening in his chest. ‘But I can assure you, I enjoyed every minute. And I know you enjoyed it too.’
Cara had come undone in his arms. It had been an experience that still lingered in his memories and his senses, but an experience he ruthlessly dispatched from his head now.
