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Bound To The Tuscan Billionaire
Susan Stephens
Nine months to claim what’s his!For gardener Cassandra Rich, working in the foothills of Tuscany is the perfect way to escape her past. And then the man of the manor graces the villa with his presence and Cassandra with his attention…Marco di Fivizzano can’t take his eyes off the delectable Cass. So when he requires a ‘plus one’ for a gala Marco knows he will uncover who this fiery blonde is – over dinner or in his bed!In Marco’s arms Cass blossoms, finding the freedom she’s always craved… Until she discovers she’s pregnant and bound to the billionaire for ever!
‘This isn’t a social call, Cassandra. I’ve come to take you back to Rome.’
Marco couldn’t have said anything to make her rally faster. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she demanded.
‘Well, you can’t stay here.’
He glanced around, and by the time his assessing stare returned to her face it was to see her cheeks flaming with the knowledge that he was right. She wasn’t finding this pregnancy easy. She was sick and weak, and he doubted she could work in her current condition. How was she supposed to support herself, let alone a baby … a baby that might be his child? He couldn’t take that chance. More importantly, she couldn’t take a chance with her child, and they both knew that with her godmother away Cassandra was alone, with no one to turn to.
No one except him.
‘Pack a small case,’ he advised. ‘We can buy anything else you need in Rome. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.’
‘I haven’t agreed,’ she pointed out, raising her chin to stare at him with defiance.
‘But you will,’ he said.
One Night With Consequences (#ulink_b445d482-a510-5d81-be9e-820ca833a2a0)
When one night … leads to pregnancy!
When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire it’s impossible to think past the morning after!
But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realise that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!
Only one question remains:
How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?
Find out in:
Prince Nadir’s Secret Heir by Michelle Conder March 2015
Carrying the Greek’s Heir by Sharon Kendrick April 2015
Married for Amari’s Heir by Maisey Yates July 2015
Bound by the Billionaire’s Baby by Cathy Williams July 2015
From One Night to Wife by Rachael Thomas September 2015
Her Nine Month Confession by Kim Lawrence September 2015
An Heir Fit for a King by Abby Green October 2015
Larenzo’s Christmas Baby by Kate Hewitt November 2015
An Illicit Night with the Greek by Susanna Carr February 2016
Look for more One Night With Consequences coming soon!
If you missed any of these fabulous stories,
they can be found at millsandboon.co.uk
Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire
Susan Stephens
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon Modern Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis, or gallops through the countryside singing loudly.
For my Tuscan teammates, Linda, Ann, and the inimitable Sharon.
Contents
Cover (#uac63bc5e-7a90-58d3-9d0e-d7ac78624322)
Introduction (#u9efd0dc4-225d-5c56-bba0-d94eb220afa3)
One Night With Consequences (#ulink_f6cc0a65-31e9-538c-83b6-199fc08f0cae)
Title Page (#uea06cb21-afac-5422-bdb3-9a09f6d8d34e)
About the Author (#ude3fcb34-09e1-5cf5-997f-4ee7b6e2690f)
Dedication (#ufa25c870-d28d-53d4-9282-0e68b436eb7c)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7f9158b7-6ea3-54b9-805e-4f5fedf2fba2)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_5d410771-094d-5a22-86b3-cad7d9b02572)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_686c2ba6-4472-5966-9a0d-d8671467c047)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_0a111936-2c5f-544a-9978-0deefdf558ee)
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)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_d8b3cb78-0765-5b90-a8fc-3b955e98f544)
PLUNGING HER SPADE into the rich moist earth of Tuscany, Cass smiled as she reflected on her good luck in landing the job in Italy. She loved nothing more than being outdoors, using her body to the full. And where better than here, to an accompaniment of birdsong and the gurgle of a crystal-clear river. Her job was to help out at a grand estate over the planting season.
The staff had a day off on Wednesdays to break up the week, so she had the place to herself, making it all too easy to imagine that she was the chatelaine in charge of the glorious grounds—though perhaps not kitted out in mud-caked boots, braless in a skimpy vest she’d ripped on some barbed wire, topped off with a baseball cap that was as frayed and faded as her shorts!
The estate was miles from anywhere and the solitude was bliss, especially after the clamour of the supermarket where she worked back home, and being on her own was better than facing the owner of the estate. Marco di Fivizzano, an Italian industrialist, hadn’t been near the place since she’d arrived. She was in no hurry to meet a man who, according to the press, was as bloodless and cold as the Cararra marble he mined.
She didn’t need to worry about him, Cass mused as she stabbed her spade into the ground. She couldn’t imagine a man like Marco di Fivizzano taking time out of his busy schedule to drive down from Rome to his country estate in the middle of the week. When she’d asked Maria and Giuseppe—housekeeper and handyman, respectively—if and when she was likely to meet her boss, they’d just looked at each other and shrugged.
Which was probably as well, Cass reflected as she returned to vigorously prepping the ground for the seedlings she was planting. She had no problem with hard work. Tugging her forelock was something else.
She’d always been a rebel, though a quiet one, all the rebellion being in her head. Dumb insolence, her headmistress had called it, when Cass, at seven, had refused to cry on the day she’d been made to stand on the school stage as all the pupils had trooped past. That had been the headmistress’s idea to shame her on the day Cass’s parents’ had been arrested for drug offences. Young as she had been, she had determined never to be bullied again.
One thing still perplexed her. If her parents hadn’t been the type of people the headmistress had wanted to encourage, why had the school been so keen to take their money?
She couldn’t stand snobbery either. Her late father, better known as the infamous rock star Jackson Rich, could easily afford the school’s extortionate fees, but that hadn’t stopped the staff resenting him, his beautiful wife and Cass, his quiet, plain daughter.
Leave the past in the past where it belongs, and enjoy the Tuscan sunshine...
It was easy to do that, Cass reflected happily. Dappled sunlight sifting through the trees warmed her skin, and the scent of wild oregano was intoxicating. It was unseasonably warm for springtime in Italy, and how much better was this than her old job, squashed up in a stall, bashing the life out of a till at the local supermarket?
Closing her eyes, she smiled as she weighed up her choices: a nylon uniform that gave her static and stifled her; or the comfortable outfit she was wearing today?
No contest.
She loved working with plants, and had begged the store manager to allow her to work in the garden section, promising him that his plants would never droop again if she were in charge. He’d given her this weird look and said he liked his women clean and free from mud. She’d handed in her notice the same day.
Wiping the back of her arm across her face, she turned full circle with her arms outstretched as if sunlight were something she could touch. Birds were singing, bees were buzzing, and she could already see the fruits of her labours in fresh green shoots. On an impulse she reached for her phone to take a selfie to send to the godmother she adored and had lived with since her parents’ death. When she’d taken this job she’d had it in mind to save money to buy a plane ticket for her godmother to visit her son in Australia. It would have been nice to be able buy it in time for his birthday, but that was a dream too far.
After emailing the shot, she received a reply from her godmother almost at once:
You look as if you’re having a good time! Suggest a wash before anyone sees you. xoxo
With a happy laugh Cass reached up to brush away a bee, only to realise that the sound she could hear wasn’t an insect but something much larger...something coming steadily closer, casting a pall over the flawless Tuscan day. Her heart rate doubled as a black helicopter swooped over the trees and hovered overhead. It blotted out the sun and obliterated the calm with noise and dust. Shielding her eyes, she tried to see who was inside, but as ‘Fivizzano Inc.’ was emblazoned on the side, she didn’t have to test her imagination too far. Her best guess was that ‘the Master’, as Giovanni and Maria referred to He who must be obeyed, had arrived. He couldn’t have told anyone he was coming or Giovanni and Maria would never have taken the day off.
She could handle it, Cass determined. She was hardly a stranger to awkward situations. She would simply stay out of his way.
Her heart beat wildly as the helicopter descended slowly like a sinister black bird, flattening the grass and driving the songbirds from the trees in a panic-stricken flock. She hadn’t met anyone who travelled by helicopter since she’d been a little girl in her parents’ exotic world. Thrusting her spade into the ground, she realised her hands were shaking.
Wiping her hands on her shorts, she stood rooted to the spot as the rotors slowed to a petulant whine. The passenger door opened and a tall, commanding figure, dressed immaculately for the city, sprang to the ground. Marco di Fivizzano was infinitely better looking than the press suggested, and for a moment she stood trapped in his stare.
What had got into her? She’d done nothing wrong.
Who the hell...? Marco’s frown deepened. Then he remembered vaguely that his PA had mentioned something about temporary staff for the summer. He was in no mood for dealing with that now. Surely Giovanni and Maria would have laid out the ground rules—that no one approached him when he was here on his Tuscan estate.
Swearing softly under his breath, he remembered that today was Maria and Giuseppe’s day off. He had been in such a hurry to leave the city for the country that his only thought had been how fast he could get here. Now he had some scruffy youth to deal with. He would have expected a new member of his gardening team to be an older and more experienced man, not some beardless boy. Coming closer, he stopped dead in his tracks as she turned to face him.
A grubby urchin? No make-up? Ragged clothes? Hair hidden beneath a faded baseball cap?
Legs like a colt...body like a ripe fruit, bra-free nipples pressing imperatively against her fine cotton top, her young face work-flushed and appealing...
His body responded violently and with approval. Beneath the mud, sweat, and rosy cheeks stood a very attractive young woman. The cap was crammed down hard on her head, with the brim pulled low to shade her eyes from the sun, as if she cared nothing for vanity—and that in itself was a novelty. Her clothes consisted of a ripped and mud-daubed singlet that clung lovingly to her full, pert breasts, while the frayed shorts emphasised the length of her slender legs. Striding up to her, he saw that she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought, and neither was she intimidated by him—far from it. This girl wasn’t afraid of anything, he sensed as she held his stare.
‘And you are?’ he prompted shortly.
In contrast to his irritable mood, she appeared to be relaxed and slightly bemused.
‘Cassandra Rich. Your new gardener?’
Something about the surname chimed in his head, but he pushed that aside for now. Evaluating staff was his strength. The success of his business had been founded on that skill.
He stared deep into a frank, cornflower-blue gaze and ran a quick assessment. She was fresh, bright and intelligent. Inner strength, combined with the summing up she was giving him, was so novel and unexpected that he almost broke into a smile—something he did so rarely that his body took the cue and responded more insistently.
‘I’m here for the summer,’ she volunteered, glancing around.
Good. That gave him time to work with, he reasoned dryly.
Was he in lust with this woman?
Possibly. She was so unlike the sophisticated types he was used to she required further study—and a category all her own.
‘Where’s the rest of the gardening team?’ he demanded, frowning.
‘They’re taking staggered holidays,’ she explained with a shrug, drawing his attention to her bright blue eyes as she pushed a lock of her honey-gold hair away from them. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ she added, ‘to plug the gap.’
He had moved on from assessing her unusually forward manner to wondering about the rest of her hair, hidden beneath the ugly cap. He could so easily imagine freeing it and seeing it cascade down her back, just before he fisted a hank of it to pull her head back to kiss her throat.
‘You can handle this entire estate on your own?’ he demanded sceptically, bringing himself back with difficulty to the business side of this encounter.
