The Princes' Brides: The Italian Prince's Pregnant Bride / The Greek Prince's Chosen Wife / The Spanish Prince's Virgin Bride. Sandra Marton
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Her lips formed a silent plea.
No!
He forgot everything. The boardroom. The old man. The deal he’d worked so long to finalize.
“Yes,” he said grimly. “Oh, most definitely yes, cara!”
She shook her head. Stumbled back another step…
“Do you two know each other?” Black asked.
Nicolo swung his head toward the old man. “What?”
“I said, have you met my granddaughter before, Your Highness?”
Nicolo, a man who had glibly talked his way into the presence of captains of industry and heads of nations during his determined rise to the top, opened his mouth, then shut it again.
Black’s granddaughter? This—this creature who would sleep with a stranger and then disappear into the night was his granddaughter?
Yes. Of course. A spoiled rich brat, accustomed to playing a seductive nymph by night and a sweet virgin by day. He’d seen lots of women like this. The rich seemed to specialize in breeding them.
“Grandfather.” Her voice shook but Nicolo had to give her credit for recovering fast. “I—I didn’t realize you were busy. I’ll come back later. This afternoon. Or tomorrow. Or—”
“Prince Barbieri? Please, sit down. You, too, Aimee. This meeting very much concerns you.”
Her stricken gaze swept from the old man to Nicolo.
Nicolo narrowed his eyes. What the hell was going on here? The temptation to tell Black he would not talk business in front of the woman was strong, but he suspected Black would not back down. He wanted her here, but why?
Nicolo had no choice but to learn why.
“What a pleasant surprise,” he said, his tone silken, “Miss…Is it Miss Black?”
She nodded. “That’s—that’s correct.”
“Ah. In that case, please, join us.”
The look she gave him told him she’d regained her composure.
“My grandfather’s already asked me to stay. I don’t need your invitation.”
“Aimee!”
“No. That’s all right, Signore Black.” Nicolo drew his lips back in a cold smile. “Your granddaughter is right. These are your offices, not mine.”
“But not for long,” the old man said.
Aimee looked at him. “What does that mean?”
“Sit down, Aimee, and you’ll find out.”
Nicolo pulled out the chair beside his. “An excellent suggestion, Miss Black.” His voice hardened. “Sit down.”
He saw her throat move as she swallowed. Then she raised her chin, ignored him and took the seat to the right of her grandfather. Nicolo sat down, too, and Black cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said briskly, “you haven’t answered my question. Do you know each other?”
“We—we might have met before,” Aimee said.
“Have we?” Nicolo flashed another icy smile. “Perhaps your memory is better than mine. After all, if we’d met, we’d know each other’s names, wouldn’t we?”
Color painted crimson patches on her cheeks but when she spoke, her tone was cool.
“I really don’t see that it matters.” She turned to her grandfather. “Who is this man? And why is he here?”
Black folded his gnarled hands on the highly polished wood before him.
“Aimee, this is Nicolo Barbieri. Prince Nicolo Barbieri, of Rome.”
Her expression showed how little impressed she was by his title.
“I suppose you expected to find Bradley.” Black glanced at Nicolo. “My nephew and Aimee’s cousin.”
Aimee didn’t answer. She was stunned by the presence of the stranger she’d slept with. Why was he here? And what was he going to say about that night?
“Aren’t you curious as to why Bradley isn’t present, Aimee?”
A good question. Bradley would never miss the chance to see her reaction as control of SCB was placed permanently in his hands.
Aimee sat up straight. Finding this—this man here had driven logical thought out of her head and she could not let that happen, not if there was the slightest chance of talking sense to her grandfather.
“I am curious,” she said. “Knowing Bradley, I’d assume he’d want to be here to gloat.”
James chuckled. “As you can see,” he told Nicolo, “my granddaughter believes in being frank.” He turned his attention to Aimee. “But Bradley has nothing to gloat about. I am, as you can see, in control of things again and after examining the records of the past three months, I can see that I was wrong to put Bradley in charge.”
Aimee put her hands in her lap and clenched them into fists.
“I’m glad you realize that, Grandfather.”
James nodded. “It’s the reason you’re here today.”
“Excuse me,” Nicolo said with barely concealed impatience, “but I would like to be let in on what is happening here, Signore Black. What has this woman—”
“My granddaughter. My own flesh and blood.”
“What has she to do with our agreement?”
“What agreement?” Aimee said, looking from her grandfather to Nicolo.
“Aimee believes she should take over as head of Stafford-Coleridge-Black, Prince Barbieri.”
Nicolo’s mouth twitched. A woman, this woman, in charge of a private bank worth billions? He would have laughed, but the old man’s expression was serious.
At least now he understood why Aimee Black was in the room. Her grandfather wanted her present for the announcement of his decision to sell the bank to Nicolo. Was it because he thought she’d take the news better than hearing it another way? Was it because Black thought, as he did, that her hope to head SCB was laughable?
Nicolo didn’t give a damn.
For weeks, he’d imagined all the ways in which he could get even with this woman but what was about to happen was better than anything he’d considered. Her shock when she learned that he, of all people, was going to get what she so obviously—so foolishly—wanted, was more than he could have hoped for.
Sometimes, he thought, sitting back in his chair, sometimes, a man got very, very lucky.
“My granddaughter worked here summers for many years.”
“How nice,” Nicolo purred.
“She studied finance, economics and business.”
Nicolo tried to look impressed. Amazing, what they taught rich girls in boarding school these days.
“She knows how I felt about keeping SCB in the family.”
Nicolo nodded. “Unfortunately,” he said politely, “fate did not cooperate.”
“No. Not until now.”
Nicolo frowned. Even a prince could smell a rat when it got close enough. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Signore Black.”
James looked at Aimee. “How badly do you want to keep Stafford-Coleridge-Black in our family?” he said softly.
Aimee’s heart began to race. “You know the answer to that, Grandfather.”
“Now, just