CHAPTER ONE
IF OLIVIACOULDhave closed her eyes and disappeared to anywhere else in the world, then she absolutely would have done so. But, having tricked Luca Giovanardi’s assistant into revealing that he would be attending this all-star event, spent money she could ill afford on a budget airfare to Italy, and actually turned up at the party on the banks of the Tiber, she knew she’d crossed the point of no return.
There was nothing for it.
Her eyes scanned the crowds, feasting on the unfamiliar elegance and sophistication, a churning in her gut reminding her, every second, that she didn’t belong here. It was so removed from her normal life, so different from what she was used to.
The party was in full swing, the restaurant courtyard packed with affluent guests, the fragrance in the air a heady mix of night-flowering jasmine and cloying floral perfume. As she studied the swarming crowd of glitterati, a woman bustled past, bumping Olivia, so she offered a tight smile of apology automatically, despite having done nothing worse than stand like a statue, frozen to the spot, too afraid to move deeper into the crowd, despite the fact she’d come here for exactly this purpose.
Naturally, he was in the centre.
Not just of the party, but of a group of people—men and women—his obvious charisma keeping each in his thrall, so that as he spoke their eyes were glued to his chiselled symmetrical face.
Why did he have to be so handsome? This wouldn’t be so difficult if he were ordinary looking. Or even just an ordinary man. But everything about Luca Giovanardi was quite famously extraordinary, from his family’s fall from grace to his spectacular resurrection to the top of the world’s financial elite. As for his personal life, Olivia had gleaned only what was absolutely necessary from the Internet—but it had been enough to know that he was the polar opposite of her in every way. Where she was a twenty-four-year-old virgin who’d never even been so much as kissed by a man before, Luca was every inch the red-blooded male, a bachelor ever since his brief, long-ago marriage ended, a bachelor who made no attempt to conceal the speed with which he churned through glamorous, sexy women.
Was she really aiming to be one of them?
Olivia licked her lips, her throat suddenly parched, and, despite the fact she was alone, she shook her head, needing to physically push the idea from her mind. She wasn’t aiming to become his mistress; what she needed was to become his wife.
A drum seemed to beat inside her body, gentle at first, the same drum beat she’d been hearing for years, since she’d first learned of her father’s will and the implications contained therein for her, and her life. But now, as she stared at Luca, the drum was growing louder, more intense, filling her body with a tempo that was both unnerving and compelling.
There must have been two hundred people, at least, in the courtyard, and yet, at the very moment she moved a single foot, with the intention of cutting a path through the crowd and getting his attention, his eyes lifted and speared hers, the directness of his stare forcing her lips apart as a shot of breath fired from her body, the searing heat of his appraising glance the last thing she’d expected. So much for making her way to him! Her legs were filled with cement suddenly, completely immovable.
She’d seen photographs of him—there were no shortage of images online—but they hadn’t prepared her for the real, three-dimensional image of Luca, and the way his nearness would affect her. His eyes were dark—like the bark of the old elm that grew at the rear of Hughenwood House. But not in summer, so much as winter, after a heavy rain, when it glistened and shimmered. A tremble ran the length of her spine. Olivia blinked away, needing relief. But even as her eyes landed on the moonlit river that snaked through this ancient city, she could feel his eyes on her, warming her flesh, tracing the lines of her face and body in a way she’d never known before.
Almost as if they had their own free will, her eyes dragged back towards him, skating over the other guests, hoping to find someone—something—that would serve as a life raft. But there was nothing that could compare to the magnetism of Luca Giovanardi—and Olivia was sunk.
When her eyes met his, he smirked, as if to say ‘knew you couldn’t resist me’, and then he turned back to his companions, resuming whatever story had held them in his thrall all along.
Olivia’s heart sank to her toes.
This wouldn’t work if she found her husband attractive. She wanted a businesslike marriage, ordained purely to free up her inheritance. There was to be no personal connection between them, nothing that could make their marriage messier than it already was.
And yet, how could she not find him appealing? Despite evidence to the contrary—a spectacularly uninteresting love life—Olivia was still a woman, and she recognised a drop-dead gorgeous guy when he was paraded right beneath her nose. Who wouldn’t recognise how damned hot Luca Giovanardi was? From his chiselled features, swarthy complexion, hair that was thick and dark and rough on top as though he made a habit of dragging his fingers through it, to a physique that was half wild animal and half man, all sinew and lean muscular strength, a figure that was barely contained by his obviously bespoke suit. It fitted him like a glove physically, but his spirit was too primal for such elegant tailoring. He should be naked. The thought had her sitting up straighter, mouth dry, and before she could help herself an image of him sans clothes exploded into her mind—the details undoubtedly inaccurate for lack of personal experience with anything approaching a naked man, but it was still enough to bring colour to her pale cheeks.
One thing was certain: Luca was not the kind of man one simply propositioned out of nowhere. Even with the leverage she felt she’d found it was almost impossible to believe it would be enough. She was perfectly au fait with her reasons for needing this marriage, but why in the world would a man like Luca, who had the world eating out of the palm of his hands, accept what she was intending to suggest?
She forced her legs to move once more, but, rather than taking her towards Luca, they fed her away from the party, skirting the edges of it, until she arrived in a quiet spot near a table of empty glasses, with one solitary waiter sitting on an upturned milk crate, smoking a cigarette. Olivia pretended not to notice him as she made her way to the railing, curling her hands over it and staring down at the river, her stomach in a thousand knots.
Coward.
Are you really going to leave without even asking him?
Did you ever think you’d go through with this?
It wasn’t as though she’d told Sienna or their mother, Angelica, what she’d planned, so they wouldn’t hold the failure against her. Yet despite that, how could Olivia ever face them, knowing she had the power to fix their futures, and had simply balked at the first hurdle?
For the briefest moment, the threat of tears stung Olivia’s azure eyes, but it had been a long time since she’d cried, let alone run the risk of anyone seeing her cry, so she bit down on her lower lip until the urge passed, focusing on blotting her emotions completely, so that, a moment later, she was able to straighten her spine and turn around, ready to return to the party and once more weigh up her options—or torment herself with the path she knew she had to take, even when she was terrified to do so.
The waiter had disappeared, leaving the upended crate and a lingering odour of second-hand smoke that made Olivia’s nose wrinkle as she passed. She turned her head to avoid the aroma, and as a result of not looking in the direction she was walking, stepped right into a rock-hard wall of a human’s chest.
‘Oh!’ She tore her face back, apologising before she could make sense of what had happened, so even before she realised that the strong hands curling around her forearms to steady her belonged to Luca Giovanardi, she heard herself say, ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.’
‘Now, we both know that is a lie,’ he responded, his voice deep and gruff, and so much more sensual than she had ever known a voice could be. Her heart went into overdrive as she was confronted with, in many ways, her very worst nightmare.
Olivia sprang back from him, needing space urgently. She looked around, wishing now that the waiter were in evidence.
‘Are you leaving?’ Her question blurted out. His answering response, a slow-spreading grin, was like being bathed in warm caramel. Olivia tried not to feel the effects of it, but how could she resist? Nothing in her life had prepared her for this.