Innocent of His Claim. Janette Kenny
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who’d tracked down his quarry. Who had it cornered and was moments away from pouncing.
Perspiration beaded her forehead and dampened the deep V between her breasts. It took supreme effort to stand straight and keep her head high, refusing to show fear or any weakness.
“So you are the man behind Varsi Dynamics,” she said.
A rapacious smile curved his chiseled lips that had once played so tenderly over her eager flesh, awakening sensations she’d never felt before or since he’d exited her life. Sensations that maddeningly still caused heat to curl in her belly.
She hated that odd loss of self-control, that awareness of him on that level. Hated him as much as she’d once loved him. Perhaps more now that she knew he’d been the one to put her through such hell the past few weeks.
“It is one of my lesser acquisitions.”
“Lesser?” She couldn’t hide her surprise.
The wolf’s smile widened. “Hard to believe that the young bastard you and your father stole a company from amassed a fortune and the power to take down a titan.”
“I had nothing to do with what my father did,” she said, earning a snort from him. “Everything I felt for you was real.”
“Yes, just like your tearful confession of family abuse, revealed after I confronted you and your father with the truth, after I said I was done with you.” His dark eyes were void of emotion. “It was too little too late. Perhaps if you’d told me your story before you betrayed me …”
“I never betrayed you,” she spat. “Why are you so blind to the truth? Why must you think the worst …”
He sliced the air between them with a hand and she stammered to a halt. “History. What happened then has nothing to do with why I’m here now.”
She forced her chin up and met his cold gaze head-on. “That’s rather difficult to believe after you’ve systematically stripped me of everything.”
The tailored sleeves of his jacket pulled into perfect pleats as he crossed his arms over his chest, his face an impassive mask. He was a stranger, worlds away from the young Italian she’d lost her heart to. An older, harder version of the dynamic lover who’d broken her heart.
“I’m in need of your services,” he said sharply.
She blinked, stunned speechless. As a wedding planner? Lover? Did it matter when either was cruel to ask of her?
“Is this a joke?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I want you to come to Italy with me today.”
For a moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t get past those same words he’d spoken long ago. Come to Italy with me … Leave the hell of her life. Leave her mother at her father’s mercy …
She couldn’t do it then. She wouldn’t now.
“No way,” she said. “The only reason I honored your order to be here today was to hear your counteroffer to my bid for Elite Affair.”
One dark brow winged up. “This is my counteroffer. Come to Italy and plan a wedding. If you please the bride and me then Elite Affair will be yours.”
Could it be that simple? No, there would be nothing simple about being around Marco, seeing him fawn over his bride.
It would be emotional hell for her. Torture. But, she thought, her mind catching on the carrot he dangled before her, in the end she would gain Elite Affair—if she could trust him to uphold his end of the bargain.
Her eyes met his intense ones and her foolish heart fluttered. It was a dangerous game. But right now she had absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain.
“All right. But I can plan your wedding from London and send one of my consultants to ensure the events go off perfectly.”
He shook his head. “No. You will be there from start to finish or the deal is off.”
She shoved her father’s massive chair aside and rounded the desk, facing him. “Why? What does it matter as long as your bride is happy?”
He drove his fingers through his hair, then pinned her with a look so intense she had to lean against the desk to keep from swaying. “Because the bride insists that you be there to oversee every detail.”
“And you would do anything for your bride,” she said.
“Si. I want her day to be perfect.”
Exactly what every groom should want, except this man had once asked her to marry him. The man who had vowed to stand by her. Believe her. Protect her.
Marco had failed miserably at all three. What was to stop him from stringing her along to get his way?
“Not good enough,” she said. “I demand a guarantee in writing that I’ll get my company back when the work is done.”
“No. You get the company if your work is satisfactory to the bride.”
“And if she nitpicks?”
“You have a reputation for pleasing the most finicky client.”
“Within reason,” she clarified.
He almost smiled. “You’ll be amply compensated for your time.”
And make a fool of herself over him again? She shook her head, having been down that rocky road before, having trusted him before. Never again.
“Forget it. I’ll never agree to that.”
“Don’t make vows you can’t keep,” he said.
“Trust me, I can keep this one!”
He glared at her, a stone pillar of a man who had once been turgid hot flesh and blazing passion in her arms. Ancient history.
They had been a bright nova. They’d come together in a cataclysmic crash of passion only to fade into cold darkness when it ended. He’d hurt her more than she’d thought possible. Was still hurting her, she thought sourly.
“I never knew you, Marco, but then that’s how you wanted it,” she said, letting him see the pain and anguish that must be evident in her eyes. “You put up walls and shared very little about your past or your fears, and the dreams you wove for our future were hazy.”
“Yet you were willing to marry me.”
She bit her lip, wanting to deny it. But she couldn’t. “I was young. Naive. I trusted you.” Loved him.
Marco’s brow snapped into a V as he jerked his gaze from her and mouthed a curse. Then he presented a broad rigid back to her, fists clenched at his sides.
She hadn’t expected a like confession from him. That wouldn’t be Marco. So why were tears stinging her eyes?
Dammit, she’d held her poise and dignity throughout the funeral. She certainly wouldn’t give Marco the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d crushed her again. How close she was to crumbling into a heap.
Head high, she marched toward the door. There was no reason to stay, no use to try and negotiate with him. That would be up to Henry now.
No home. No job. Nothing but her pride.
“I am not finished with you,” he said.
“Tough,” she said, relieved her voice didn’t betray her heartache, that her knees didn’t buckle. “I’m finished with you.”
A few more feet and she was closing the door behind her with that same resounding click she’d heard as he’d entered. A sob caught in her throat but she managed to choke it back as she ran across the waiting room toward an uncertain future.
CHAPTER TWO
MARCO wrenched the door open with nearly enough force to pull