Italian Prince, Wedlocked Wife. Jennie Lucas

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Italian Prince, Wedlocked Wife - Jennie  Lucas


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women to melt at your command. Tell me why you want to marry me. Whom will it hurt? And how?”

      “Cara—” He moved toward her, palms up in a gesture of supplication.

      “No!” She moved backward, unwilling to let him touch her. “Don’t you ‘cara’ me. I want cold, hard facts!”

      His expression changed.

      And suddenly, he laughed aloud.

      “Bravo, signorina,” he said with a satisfied clap of his hands. “You are the first woman to resist me since I was fifteen years old. Bravo.” He gave her a nod. “I respect your intelligence.”

      She flushed, feeling unaccountably pleased by his praise.

      “And as you’ve left me no choice…” He took the file from her, opening it on a nearby table. “Here are your cold, hard facts. Our marriage will last approximately three months. I will allow you to spend my fortune as if it were your own. In return, I will have complete control and management of all your current and future assets.” He paused, looking up to search her gaze. “Do you find that unfair?”

      She said with a bitter laugh, “My only asset is a beat-up old Honda that barely runs. If you want to try to manage that, be my guest.”

      “At the end of our marriage, I will be required to pay you full market value for anything I keep.” He quickly turned to another page. “And in addition, I will recompense you with a settlement of ten million dollars for each month of our marriage.”

      She stared at him, unable to comprehend the words.

      “Thirty…million…dollars?” she choked.

      “.”

      Lucy closed her eyes. She would never have to work again. She could spend her days playing with her baby. Chloe would have the best of everything. The best schools. Brand-new toys. Brand-new clothes. Ballet lessons. Italian lessons. Tuba lessons. Anything and everything. They could have the snug, warm little house she’d always dreamed of. She could turn the heat up as high as she wished. They could pick the biggest Christmas tree on the lot. Chloe could have pony rides—no, a whole stable of thoroughbreds. World cruises. Tuition to Harvard. Anything and everything.

      She tried to be calm, but her hands were shaking.

      “Wh-what would you expect me to do for that?”

      “I would expect you to appear to be my devoted wife in every way. To honor and obey.”

      She licked her dry lips. “To do something illegal?”

      “No.”

      “Immoral?”

      “That is in the eye of the beholder. It would be a marriage of convenience. A few moments ago, you found that distasteful. Do you still?”

      She was suddenly willing to reconsider. “Just three months?”

      “That is my guess.” His blue eyes became grim. “I’m waiting for a man to die—a man you don’t know.”

      That brought her up short. “Oh.”

      “He is old and ill. Once he is dead, we will divorce. And you will be wealthier than your wildest dreams.”

      “Still.” She swallowed. “It’s a bit ghoulish, isn’t it—waiting for someone to die?”

      “We all die sometime, cara.”

      “That’s…true.” Biting her lip, she paced the bedroom, then turned with a sudden intake of breath. “You will do nothing to cause his death?”

      His eyes flashed. “You think I’m a murderer?”

      She didn’t know what to think. None of this made sense. “I’m just trying to understand.”

      “Don’t try.” He pushed the prenup toward her. “Just sign.”

      “Wait. Please.” She pressed her fingers against her eyelids. Think, she ordered her brain. But everything he’d said, all his seductive evasions and cryptic demands, just jumbled together in her mind. Why would a wealthy, handsome prince want to marry her?

      “What about me is so special that it’s worth thirty million dollars?” she asked. “And what does Alex have to do with it?”

      He looked away, clenching his jaw. When he turned back to her, his sky-blue gaze was cold.

      “I’ve made you a good offer. If you don’t like it, tell me to go to hell. Go back to your old life.”

      A sudden rush of fear went through her. Go back to her old life? Wake Chloe up from her soft bed upstairs, and drag her back to their freezing, mouse-infested apartment?

      “Or—” he pushed the prenuptial agreement toward her on the table, holding out a pen “—sign this and marry me.”

      “But—”

      “No more discussion. Make your choice.”

      She stared at his outstretched pen.

      She’d be a fool to sign this agreement. Without a lawyer to explain the legal jargon, for all she knew she’d be signing her life away. Marry a man she didn’t know? Run away with this darkly handsome prince to Italy? Be transformed from a desperate single mother to a powerful princess? Be so wealthy that her daughter, her granddaughter and her great-granddaughter would all be able to devote their lives to their own pursuit of happiness?

      Slowly Lucy took the pen.

      She’d be a fool not to sign it.

      Her choice was simple. Either take this risk—or take Chloe back to their old life. One paycheck away from living out of Lucy’s car. And she’d just lost her job!

      Thirty million dollars. A number beyond comprehension. But still, she hesitated.

      “What about your needs?”

      “My needs?”

      “Your—needs,” she said, flushing. “I won’t share your bed.”

      “Ah.” His sensual lips slid into a grin. “We’ll see.”

      “No.” She gripped the pen in her hand. “I’d be a fool to love a man like you.”

      “We’re not talking of love. I’ve taken many women to my bed, and never once experienced a broken heart. Just pleasure.”

      Which was exactly why she had to make sure he never touched her. A playboy prince like Maximo might be able to seduce someone with just his body, but Lucy didn’t think she could keep her heart out of it. She didn’t think she could make love without falling

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