The Surprise Conti Child (2 page)

She had it bad
, if she was justifying his cheap remarks...

“Could there be a different intention?”

“You don't know Luca like I do. And you are...”

“I'm what, Mr. Conti?
The stereotypical American slut
? Easy? Weak enough for you to insult without knowing the first thing about me?”

Something almost like regret pinched his mouth. When his gaze flipped open again, a storm danced within it. As if some small part of him was uncoiling and awake. “Luca is a...
sucker
, as you call it, for your type.”

She raised an eyebrow then. Maybe not so imperious like him but she was proud of herself. “And what type is that?”

He sighed. Satisfaction pounded in Alex's blood, the little sound of his capitulation a roaring defeat.

“You want your pound of flesh?”

“From the moment I arrived, you've looked at me like I was dirt beneath your handmade Italian shoes. I want every drop of blood that you owe me.”

A hint of a smile caressed his lips, tilting one corner of his mouth up. The impact of it was like molten honey through her veins, turning her languorous and sluggish. “You're young and vivacious, a striking contrast of strength when compared to someone like Valentina. But your eyes, they betray your innocence and your vulnerability. You possess a distinct lack of artifice that is dangerously attractive. For a man like Luca with such jaded taste, you're like a fresh drink of water that might just sate his unquenchable thirst. It's enough to rouse a man's instincts, enough to make him assume, foolishly, that you need to be protected.”

Heartbeat skittering all over the place, Alex stared, stunned. She had thought herself beneath his notice, inadequate to even catch his attention. “Why foolish?” she croaked.

“Because, as I'm realizing slowly, you might look innocent and vulnerable, but you're not weak.”

“If that's an apology,” she countered weakly, battling the fluttering feeling in her chest, “then it's the most convoluted one I've ever heard.”

A couple of women, one dressed in black leather and the other a white cocktail dress, both so tight as if they were painted over their voluptuous bodies, passed them huddling Alexis toward him.

Their hushed whispers and awed mutterings were obvious enough for Alex.

Leandro Conti didn't usually hang around nightclubs. Or parade in public, she realized, in complete contrast to Luca who seemed to go out of his way to engage the media's attention.

Nor had he found her by accident. Valentina had already left.

Which meant he had come here looking...
“Why are you here tonight?” When he frowned, she elaborated. “You barely seem to tolerate the normal pursuits and company like the rest of us.”

“Have you studied me so thoroughly then?”

Alex blushed. How neatly he had trapped her into admitting that she'd been obsessed with him. But she'd never met anyone like him, didn't know how to hide her fascination.

His hand stayed on her elbow, separating her from the crowd. “My grandfather is convinced you're a gold digger out to get her claws into Luca. I've been ordered to make sure you don't succeed.”

Her jaw fell open. Disbelief slowly cycled to righteous fury. And here she'd thought he'd come for her. “Go to hell,” she whispered and took off.

Hot tears prickled behind her eyes and she resolutely locked them away. The arrogant jerk wasn't worth a single tear.

Somehow, she managed to only delve deeper into the mazelike nightclub, the sexy, almost hip-hop-like music chasing her. One minute, she was pushing through the throng, and next, she was looking at a lushly carpeted, quiet corridor with three unmarked doors.

Cursing, Alex turned around and banged into the one man she never wanted to see again.

Why was he following her?

“I told you to go—”

His fingers on her wrist viselike, he slid a card at the door and tugged her inside. “You're making a scene.”

The door closed behind them with a finality that made Alex jump. But the stinging response that rose to her mouth died.

It was a VIP suite. Eyes wide, Alex studied it, a furious flush rising up through her neck.

Floor-to-ceiling glass paneling made up the far wall of the plush suite, giving a perfect view into the dance floor and bar on the two levels.

Two lush couches stood against the far wall, adjacent to a small refrigerator. And on the other wall was a giant plasma screen that was currently turned off.

Gut swooping, she turned. “I don't think we should be here. This area...”

“I own this club, Ms. Sharpe.”

Laughter, more sarcastic than warm, gurgled out of her. A villa in Lake Como, a nightclub in Milan, and a growing luxury goods collection that celebrities were crazy about—the Contis might as well be from a different planet. “Of course you do. Have you had men watching me all this time?”

The thick swath of his eyelashes shadowed his expression. “Valentina always has protection.”

“And you told them to keep an eye on the American gold digger/slut, too.”

“It was for your protection.”

“And who protects me from you?”

The dim, somehow still classy purple lighting in the room didn't quite hide his flinch. But she was far too furious to wonder why.

“What do you intend? To lock me up here? To have me neatly packed away in one of your jets and have me dumped on the other side of Atlantic? To send me off silently into the night?” No, he wasn't allowed to dismiss her like this. Not when she felt so weak-kneed and aware of him. “You know your brother is a fast worker. What if I already have him in my
clutches
? Maybe Luca and I've already,
thoroughly
, f—”

“
Basta
!” he muttered, before his hand descended on her mouth while the other one locked her against the wall.

The rough, almost possessive grip he had on her hip branded her. But it was his gaze that held her rooted.

A flash of temper? A spark of emotion? Whatever it was, it lit his usually droll gaze.

He wasn't impervious to her.

Hot, reckless energy pounded through her, making her thrum with excitement. “You can think it, but I can't say it, Leandro?” She drawled her words, adding a lazy taunt. “At least, with Luca, I know I'll have a good time without insults.”

Gray irises widened, bleeding into the dark black around.

The quiet room shrank around the two of them, an explosive current springing into life. The masculine scent of him was a whiplash against her senses, his fingertips pressing into her flesh.

Yet all Alex felt was charged up.

“Do you know what you so dangerously provoke? Are you prepared for it?”

A wealth of meaning reverberated in his statement and it lay between them, a grenade ticking away.

Drunk on the challenge in his molten gaze, Alex couldn't back down. “I don't care how wealthy you—”

His tapered fingers squeezed her palm gently. “I don't agree with my grandfather,
bella
.”

“No?”

“
No
.”

“Then why did you come tonight?”

Tension filled the infinitesimal silence before he answered, “Luca told me he picked up a drunk Tina and couldn't locate you. I don't like the idea of you being out at night in Milan alone.”

“You could've asked anyone else to do that. Your security team...you didn't have to come yourself. You could—”

“What you're hoping for, it will never happen, Alexis.”

“You called me Alexis,” she said simply, letting the warmth of his body float her away.

His head cocked to the side, and he rubbed her jaw.

Shock...he was shocked that he had said her name. The fingers that had been brushing her cheek pulled away. “Come, it is time for you to leave.”

It was as if he'd slammed a door in her face.

He wasn't talking just about the nightclub or Milan, but Italy. He was telling her it was time for her to leave. Panic flared through her, but beneath it was a realization that sent her heart slamming against her rib cage. All these days...

“You want me,” she accused. “You made me feel like I was the only one who felt it, as if I was gauche enough to read it all wrong—”

In a near-violent movement that sent her breath bursting through her, Leandro captured her wrists. Stilling her body from leaning into him. “This is a mistake.”

Yanking her hands away from his grip, Alexis pressed her body against his.

A jagged sound wrenched out from his lips, throaty and low. Moving her hands up his chest, Alex tilted her head back. Every inch of his face was frozen in some kind of torturous agony. And she didn't intend to let him win.

She buried her mouth in the opening of his dress shirt. Velvet-smooth and hot, his skin burned against her lips. “Kiss me, just once. Show me what you feel, just once.”

One hand snuck into her hair. Her scalp prickled as he tugged her up. Dark need pinched his features and Alex shivered, suddenly, finally, understanding the depth of the need he hid under that infuriatingly indifferent mask.

Anticipation roped with tension set her nerves on fire.

“You do not know who you're playing with.”

She jerked back. “Am I so beneath you then?”

He shook his head. But the shadows didn't leave his eyes. “You're too young.”

“I'm old enough to know what I want.”

Flicking her tongue out, she tasted him. His hands vined tight around her, flattening her nonexistent breasts against his chest, knocking the breath out of her. “You think I'll stop at one meager kiss?” Pure need punctured every word. “You think to play with my desire and walk away after a chaste embrace, to taunt me like you do these boys with your innocence?”

His warning only incensed her desire even more. “I'm not the one afraid, Leandro.”

A volley of Italian fell from his mouth as she pressed her lower body to his. The ridge of his erection against her belly made her quiver.

His fingers descended on her hips, hurting her with their grip to keep her unmoving. “I will not touch my brother's seconds.”

“We shared one kiss before I walked away. I'm not interested in Luca.”

“You are the first woman in the world to claim that.” Something flashed in his gaze even as his long fingers drew maddening circles over her wrists. “Which is why he likes you so much.”

If her heart beat any faster, it would rip out of her chest. But still, she risked. And in this spine-tingling risk she took with Leandro, Alex felt more secure, more wanted than she'd ever felt in her life. “And you?”

It was as if all the walls he kept up fell down in dust and a primitive hunger filled his gaze. “I feel need, Alexis. When I look at you...all I feel is desire.”

Even then, it was she that lifted her head, reached up and pressed her mouth to his. She, who had no experience with men, that wrapped her hands around his nape and refused to let go.

She that touched her mouth to his.

Soft and hot and hard at the same time, his mouth was a gateway to heaven and hell. Every nerve ending quivering, every instinct driving her forth, she ran the tip of her tongue tentatively, slowly, over that cruelly sculpted lower lip.

With a growl that made her belly tighten, finally he relented. Finally, he touched that hard, harsh mouth to hers.

Lights exploded behind Alex's eyes as if the world was a kaleidoscope of sensations and textures.

Masculine and demanding, he parted her lips and pushed in.

With his tongue and teeth, and with an expertise that made her sex shockingly wet, Leandro devoured her.

There was no playfulness, no seduction to his kiss, just as his words. It was a full-on sensual assault that left no doubt about where it was leading.

His hands skimmed everywhere—her breasts and the boldly taut nipples, her hips, the curves of her buttocks—before they crept under her dress and pulled it up.

Long fingers hitched her thigh around his hips until the heat of her was intimately pressed against the rigid length of him.

Every inch of her vibrated with excitement, desire, need, every inch of her thrummed at the sensation of power.

When he pushed her against the wall and covered her breasts with his hands, Alex whimpered.

When his fingers reached her wet core—alien and intrusive, her gaze flew to his, shocked and aroused and oh-so-willing. Her mouth dried at the stark need in those gray eyes.

Groaning, she came off the wall like a bow when he curled a finger inside her just so, driving a fork of heat through her pelvis.

When he flicked the rim of her ear with his tongue, and told her what he was going to do to her, Alex buried her mouth in his neck and gave herself over.

To the man, to the moment, to the incredible sensation of being wanted.

CHAPTER ONE

Seven years later

“D
OES
YOUR
ARM
still hurt, Mamma?”

Alex tucked the quilt around Isabella and kissed her forehead. “A little, baby,” she said, opting for the truth.

She was only six but Izzie somehow always knew if Alex lied to her. Or maybe it was that penetrating, deep gray gaze that Alex had never learned to handle. “But the cast should be gone in a couple more weeks and Auntie Jessie said I was healing well.”

Little chubby fingers traced the yet unhealed, inch-wide scar that ran from her left temple to her eye, bisecting her brow where a shard of glass had pierced the skin. This bruise, unlike the fracture to her ribs and arm, was only skin-deep yet looked much worse.

“It scares me, Mamma,” Izzie whispered in a low voice.

Tears coated Alex's throat but she resolutely swallowed them back. “But you're such a brave little girl always, baby.”

Her little chin wobbled. “I am but all the days you were in hospital and me here, alone. Grandmama didn't tell me when you'd come home.”

Pushing herself completely onto the little bed, Alex gathered her bundle of joy closer. “It looks scarier than it hurts. See, I'm perfectly fine, okay?”

When Izzie nodded, Alex hugged her tight. Felt the tension unwind in her little girl's body.

But fear lingered, a bitter taste at the back of her throat, leeching warmth from her very veins.

The sixteen-wheeler that had crashed into her compact sedan from the side had wrecked it into a pulp of metal. It was a miracle she'd survived, the doctor had said, and without permanent damage, too.

But all Alex could think of was the alternate scenario...

She could've lost her life.

And Izzie would be...

Like a black cloud waiting to swallow her, she felt the loss of breath, the violent impact of the air bag, of the crunch of bone and the shaft of nightmarish pain in her left arm all the way to her fingers...

The acidic taste of fear in her mouth...

Her hands shook, her skin clammy with sweat.

She buried her face in Izzie's hair and took a deep breath.

As always, the sweet smell of her little girl's skin anchored her in the now. Pushed back the nightmarish fingers of that panic to the edges...but she knew it wasn't gone for long.

Anything could trigger it, she realized, remembering the almost episode at the store that very morning when the door had banged too hard.

She couldn't go on like this, debilitated by fear.

Control, she needed control of this fear for Izzie. She needed to do something that wouldn't paralyze her like this, something that would take care of her baby whatever the future brought...

And instantly her mind went to him.

The man with blue-black hair. The man who had given Izzie her shockingly clear gray eyes and her thick, straight black hair, unlike Alex's strawberry blond curls. The man who had refused to see her again. Or speak to her. Or answer a single phone call seven years ago.

Even in that second before she'd lost consciousness, she'd thought of him. Of the desperate yet muted violence of his passion as he'd kissed her that night, of the way he'd moved inside her, of the way he had driven her to the edge of such intense pleasure that she'd thought she'd fragment into a million pieces...

One memory brought another now...

The disgusted look in his eyes after when she'd hung on to him like a limp vine, as his lust-heavy gaze slowly focused on her, followed by utter shock and disgust, of the jagged, agonized howl that had fallen from his mouth...the way he'd withdrawn immediately, righted her clothes so coldly and clinically, the way he wouldn't meet her gaze as he drove them to the hotel Valentina and she'd been staying at in Milan...

The way he'd told her that he never wanted to see her again...

But now, now that she had faced almost certain death, Alex wasn't willing to slink away in silence anymore. Even if that meant facing his rejection and failing.

Failure had haunted her throughout her entire life. She'd lived through being a disappointment, first to her parents, and then to herself, again and again, but she wouldn't be one when it came to Izzie.

She deserved security, and she, Alexis, needed the peace of mind to live her life normally again. She needed to know Izzie would be taken care of if something happened to her.

The very thought of facing Leandro Conti again made her skin prickle alarmingly. But she'd do anything for her daughter.

* * *

“One of you will marry the Rossi girl.”

Impossibile!

Leandro Conti's answer reverberated inside him to his grandfather's ultimatum but walking deeper into the study, he stayed silent.

“Sophia Rossi?” his brother, Luca asked, shock etched into his face.

“
Si
.”

Leandro studied with interest the frail form of his grandfather, Antonio, behind the gleaming dark mahogany desk, still determined to intimidate his grandsons, while, next to him, leaning casually against the bookshelf, Luca adopted his usual devil-may-care attitude that infuriated Antonio so well.

Leandro sent his brother a warning glance. Antonio had not recovered completely from his heart attack a month ago.

Luca and his grandfather would have killed each other a long time ago, if it wasn't for him. And he was tiring of playing the referee among his family members.

He had begun when he was fourteen and at thirty-five, he was still doing it.

“We're too old for you to be arranging alliances for us, Nonno,” Leandro finally said into the cutting silence. “I will not marry again. And—”

“Ordering me to,” Luca interjected, “marry any woman is cursing the poor woman. Even one with steel balls like Sophia Rossi.”

Something glinted in Antonio's eyes. “The only choice is which one of you will do it.”

“Or what, Nonno?” Luca spat the words. “You will cut Leandro and me out of this...
venerable Conti empire
?”

Luca's tone made it clear it was anything but.

Because Luca's creative genius and Leandro's cutting-edge business practices over the past decade was what made Conti Luxury Goods a coveted designer label in Italy, and worldwide over the past three years.

That Antonio threatened them like this...it didn't bode well.

“I will inform,” Antonio continued, “your sister that she's not a Conti, that she...is the product of your mother's shameful affair with her driver. I will disown Valentina publicly.”

A filthy curse erupted from Luca's mouth, a fitting one while ice-cold fury filled Leandro's veins.

He had learned all through his life that Antonio would do anything for their family's business and knowing the kind of reckless, irresponsible, brutally selfish man his father had been, Leandro had even understood it.

But this was low, for a man Leandro respected, even liked sometimes.

Neither he nor Luca would let anything touch Valentina.

He swallowed the fury rising through him, and adopted an almost amenable expression. “Your heart attack has made you irascible, Nonno.”

“You cannot persuade me away from my course, Leandro. I let you bring Valentina here...
your mother's shame
,” he spat the words, “I even accepted her as my own, but do not think—”

“You love Valentina, I'm sure,” Luca roared. “I thought you a better man than our father.”

Antonio flinched. Apparently, even he couldn't stomach being compared to his son Enzo. “I accepted Valentina because that was Leandro's price to let me mold him for the Conti empire.”

Luca turned to Leandro, disbelief in his eyes. “This is why you always let him rule your life?”

Leandro shrugged. “It was not a sacrifice, Luca. Snatching away the helm of the company from our father's hands, ousting him from the board of directors, marrying Rosa, they were all things I did because I wanted to. That I could protect Valentina's innocence was extra.” He turned to Antonio, letting him see his anger for the first time. “Luca and I have put Conti on the global map, something even you hadn't dreamed about. What more could you want?”

“I want an heir to my dynasty.” Understanding glinted in his eyes but Leandro refused it. “Enzo was an utter failure as a son, as a husband, as a father, but even he gave me heirs.” Even the growl that fell from Luca's lips didn't detract Antonio. “This marriage to his daughter will silence that backstabbing Salvatore. Two birds with one rock.”

Leandro shook his head. “This is not the way—”

“What choice do I have?” Antonio's voice loomed loud in the room. “You refuse to consider marriage and you...” Distaste robbed the old man of his words as he turned to Luca. “You change women like you change clothes.

“Death is not far for me, Leandro. I will not leave this world on the risk that Luca and you might be the last of the Contis.”

His desk phone rang and Antonio picked it up.

Frustration raging in his veins, Leandro turned to Luca.

Both Luca and he had learned early enough in life that Antonio had a will of steel. He had built Leandro both into a weapon against his own son, their father, even as it broke his own heart. Whether he loved Valentina or not, he wouldn't back down from carrying out his threat.

“Luca—”

“Leandro, haven't you done—”

The loud click of the phone hitting its cradle punctured the silence and both of them turned to Antonio.

“It seems there is no choice.”

Luca was the first to react. “What do you mean?”

“Salvatore Rossi's
daughter
has decided only one of you will do for marriage.”

Thunder whooshed in Leandro's ears.

“She wants you, Leandro.” His look toward Luca was withering. “Apparently, she is smart enough to reject the Conti devil.”

Luca's glittering black gaze, so much like their father's, turned to Leandro. A half smile played on his lips, and yet, Leandro had the sinking feeling that something else, something other than relief, hounded his brother. “Once again, the burden of this family falls to you, Leandro.”

With that, he left the study.

In the ensuing silence, they could hear the noise from the veranda. Valentina's rapid words, along with laughter in between.

Valentina, who was all they had left of their mother...

“I begin to see the wisdom in the mode of life Luca has chosen. And the delirious freedom of hating you and this name and this...dynastic ego of yours
...
” With each word, his voice rose, fury pummeling him.

With shaking hands, he picked up the bottle of wine, the first that had been bottled at their Tuscan vineyard almost two decades ago, and thought of smashing it against the wall.

“Leandro...” Antonio's low entreaty only spiked his temper. Because of course, Antonio loved him. It hadn't been unconditional, true, but Antonio had been everything to the little boy who'd been shattered by his father's volatility.

But Leandro didn't throw it, didn't give in to the baser urge.

Leandro didn't believe in giving in to indulgent fits of temper, into foolish hopes that things were different, into thinking of his wants and needs before his duty or his family's well-being.

He didn't believe in being weak.

Only once in his life had he done that. Only once in his life had he lost control to the emotional turmoil that his father, and even Luca sometimes, seemed to feed on. In that moment, he had betrayed everything he stood for.

Even now, it wasn't Rosa's features he saw when he took himself in hand, when he had to appease his body's needs without seeking out dirty satisfaction in some strange woman's arms. He saw dark brown eyes, unflinchingly honest and hotly aroused, trembling pink lips, eager hands...

Shaking at the hold the memory had on him,
and his body,
Leandro put the bottle down.

“Another wife, Antonio? You have turned me into cattle.”

Antonio looked tired. “To make the Conti name respectable again at all costs, to do everything that Enzo ruined, this was your choice, Leandro.”

Leandro nodded. “Tell Salvatore that I will marry Sophia as soon as he pleases.”

He had been alone far too long anyway. A marriage for the sake of children—he had nothing against that.

* * *

Memories of that long-ago summer crashed through Alexis as she stared at the majestic Villa de Conti, glittering against the night sky. The magnificent towering gates that they had just passed, the scent of jasmine that grew on the columns of the terrace porch, the breeze coming off Lake Como, and the glitterati of the Italian society dressed in designer wear and elegant diamonds, it was a sensory assault.

Fiercely intimidating, too.

Alex ran a hand over her white silk button-down blouse nervously, not that she could ever compete with this crowd. Dark blue jeans and white pumps finished her simple attire.

She was glad she had called Valentina. The lie had fallen so easily off her lips—that she was touring Italy again and would love to see her. Valentina had sounded delighted, pretending as if they had remained friends after that summer instead of Alex calling her out of the blue. Had even sent Alex a car to pick her up.

But she hadn't mentioned that Alex would be arriving at the villa the night of, what seemed like, a big party.

Thanking the driver, Alex exited from the car and looked up. Now that she stood there, anxiety made her empty stomach heave. Her mouth felt dry.

How was she supposed to locate
him
amid this crowd, much less tell him about Izzie?

Alex swayed, some primal instinct urging her to turn around and flee. But Izzie's welfare and her own peace of mind depended on this.

Shaking at the warring logic and instinct, she froze.