A Deal For The Di Sione Ring. Jennifer Hayward
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meant the bridesmaids were all Silvio’s—strangers to her.
She waited in the salon for the horse and carriage that would transport her to the church. Her mother and the planner would ride on ahead in the limousine Silvio had sent for them to ensure everything was ready for her arrival.
A cloud of perfume preceding her, her mother brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Brighten up, Mina. You will have everything after this.”
Except what she really wanted. Her freedom. A man who actually loved her.
The door closed behind her mother in a waft of jasmine and she was alone. Alone in the beautiful dress that flowed around her, the diamond choker growing tighter around her throat with every second that passed.
Her breathing grew shallow, her palms sweaty. She was out of time. Out of options.
* * *
The elegant old Mastrantino villa was located in the aristocratic neighborhood of Montepellegrino, with its sweeping views of Palermo, the surrounding mountains and the Tyrrhenian Sea.
As much as Nate appreciated the spectacular view, he was more interested in speaking with the Mastrantinos, acquiring Giovanni’s ring and wrapping up his business in Sicily so he could complete stops in Capri, Hong Kong and the Maldives before heading home to hand the ring over to his grandfather.
He had elected not to pursue the Giarruso at this point in time, as it wasn’t quite the unique opportunity he’d been searching for to enhance his portfolio—delectable smart chambermaids aside.
The handsome, elegantly stuccoed Mastrantino villa looked as quiet as it had the night before when he’d come seeking the ring only to find no one home. Hoping his luck was better today, Nate asked his driver to wait at the front entrance, strode up the wide set of steps to the front entrance and rang the bell.
When no one answered, he rang again, impatience thrumming through his veins. Why were there no staff members answering the door? Were the Mastrantinos out of town? He scowled. That would put a major kink in his plans.
He was about to ring a third time when the door opened and he was faced with a vision in white. A dark-haired vision in white. A wedding dress to be exact, floating around the woman’s incredible figure. He lifted his gaze to her beautiful face and shock flooded through him. Lina. Here?
“I thought you were my horse and carriage,” she breathed, hiking up the train of her dress.
He looked down at her silver, high heel–clad dainty feet, then back at the luxury sedan his driver had parked at the curb, wondering dazedly if he’d been transported into some bizarre real-life Cinderella reenactment. “No,” he replied slowly, looking back at Lina, “I most definitely came on four wheels.”
She blinked. “Signor Brunswick. What are you doing here?”
He noticed then the tears that streaked her perfect makeup, the vulnerable tilt to her chin, the quiver to her mouth, and damn if it didn’t tear him up inside.
He dragged his gaze back up to hers. “I am looking for the Mastrantinos. Do you live here?”
Her beautiful mouth quivered some more. He ran a hand through his hair. Cursed. Comforting emotional women was not his forte.
She pressed her lips together. “Now is not a very good time.”
No kidding. She was apparently getting married today. Not just taken, but marrying someone.
Why was she crying on her wedding day? He was no expert but he had been led to believe it was every woman’s dream.
He swallowed. “I am looking for Simona or Mina Mastrantino. They own a ring I would like to purchase. But since this is clearly not a good time, as you say, I can come ba—”
“What ring?” Her dark gaze fixed on his.
“The Fountain Ring with the sapphire in it.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know about that ring?”
“My private investigator tracked it down for me. I want to purchase it.”
“Why?”
“It has...sentimental value for someone close to me.”
A woman walking down the avenue gave them a curious look. Lina stepped back and motioned for him to come in. He stepped in and she shut the door behind him.
“I am...Mina Mastrantino,” she said haltingly, digging her teeth into her bottom lip in that trademark nervous tic of hers. “I—I don’t use my real name when I work. But you can’t—I mean—please keep that between us.”
Who was he going to tell? And—what? Lina was Mina? Why in God’s name was she working as a chambermaid?
Lina, or rather Mina, gestured to a room to the left. “Please come in. Sit down.”
He walked past her into the richly appointed, slightly outdated salon which had clearly once been the showpiece of the villa with its hand-carved fireplaces, crystal chandeliers and elegant arches. Mina followed and indicated a chair for Nate while she perched on a sofa. He sat down, his gaze moving over the distraught bride’s face.
Her eyes were full of turmoil as she lifted them to his. “I would love to sell you the ring, Signor Brunswick, but unfortunately, I cannot.”
“Nate,” he corrected. She had seen him in a towel, after all. “And why not?”
“It’s a family heirloom. My father bequeathed it to me upon my marriage.”
He looked pointedly at her expensive wedding dress. “Which is happening today...”
“Yes.” Her lips started to quiver again, a tear escaping those dark-as-night eyes.
His blood pressure shot through the roof. Dear Lord, he didn’t need this right now. He really didn’t.
“Mina.” He moved across the room to sit beside her on the sofa, likely not the smartest move given the chemistry between them, but he couldn’t help himself as he lifted a hand to her delicate jaw to turn her face to him. Her dark lashes were soaked with tears that ran down her cheek like sparkling crystals. Her sultry mouth was vulnerable and bare of color. Undeniably enticing. But it was the dark shadow on her cheek the sunlight pouring in through the windows revealed that caught his attention. Turned his blood to ice.
He knew it was none of his business, knew he should walk out the door right now and come back tomorrow, but he couldn’t seem to move. He was a smart man. He could put two and two together and he did not like what he saw.
“Your fiancé,” he said quietly, dangerously, “gave you that bruise on your cheek?”
Her fingers flew up to cover it. “Oh, no, I—”
“Mina...”
She stared at him, dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.
Dammit all. Nate wrapped his arm around her and pulled her onto his lap, cradling her against his chest. She stiffened against him as if ready to bolt, then another sob racked her petite body and she melted into him, her tears soaking his shirt. Shredding his self-possession.
He held her as she cried, ruthlessly commanding his all too aware body that the soft curves that fit so perfectly against him were utterly off-limits. His hand stroked her silky hair, nudging some curly tendrils free from the perfect knot as her sobs dissolved into sniffles, but he didn’t care. She was trembling like a leaf.
“Tell me,” he ordered, “what is going on here.”
She shook her head. “Silvio—my fiancé—he’s a very powerful man. He would kill me if I said anything.”
He lifted her chin with his fingers. “Funny thing about that, Mina, but I’m a powerful man, too, and I don’t hit my women. Silvio who?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Silvio Marchetti. He owns half of Sicily.