CHAPTER ONE
‘WELCOME, SIGNOR ARMATI.’
Fabrizio strode past the bowing lawyer and into the conference room of his Rome headquarters. His eyes locked with those of his rival on the far side of the vast table.
Luca De Laurentis. The man had been snapping at his heels for years and just twelve months ago had beaten him to the lucrative Palermo deal. He’d been a thorn in Fabrizio’s side for too long.
Satisfaction stirred. At last their cat and mouse game neared its end and he, Fabrizio Armati, would emerge the victor. He tasted triumph on his tongue. After the trying six months he’d had, the promise of success had never been so sweet.
‘De Laurentis.’ He nodded, noting the glint in his competitor’s eye, as if ready for battle. Much good it would do him. Fabrizio’s team had the deal sewn up to his complete satisfaction. He intended to leave the room with everything he wanted.
‘Armati.’ De Laurentis inclined his head and settled in his seat, surrounded by dark-suited minions.
Fabrizio took the chair reserved for him at the head of his own entourage and leaned back, ready to enjoy himself.
It was as his chief lawyer opened the sheaf of contracts on the table that Fabrizio felt a ripple of disquiet, a feather of awareness along his nape. The blood in his veins tingled. His nostrils flared as if scenting some half-forgotten fragrance. His skin tightened.
Slowly, casually, he turned from the papers and swept his gaze over the opposition ranks. Half-familiar faces were already frowning over the latest proposals. Grey hair, balding heads, De Laurentis’s carefully groomed dark hair, more forgettable faces and then, at the back, half-obscured by the men in front, a face he’d never forget.
Jenna MacDonald.
His shuffle of the papers before him cloaked a swift intake of breath.
The ripple of disquiet became a sizzle of pure fire, searing through his blood and igniting a fury he’d barely managed to contain in twenty-six weeks.
Twenty-six weeks since he’d seen her.
Six months since he’d opened that trite little note.
One hundred and eighty-two days since he’d left her sleeping in his bed, her hair catching the dawn light like gold caught the sun.
Fabrizio’s lip curled in a snarl of indignation. Never in his life had he counted the days with a woman. But he knew precisely how long he’d been
without
Jenna MacDonald.
She was the only woman in thirty-three years to walk away from him.
Maledizione!
To find her here of all places, after he’d sent his investigators overseas to locate her!
He firmed his mouth into a hard line. What game was this?
He took in her sleek hair, pulled back from her exquisite face. Those siren’s lips in glossy carmine. The charcoal jacket that plunged low over a silky cream camisole. The way her throat worked as she swallowed.
Fabrizio’s eyes narrowed as he saw her pulse flutter. She was nervous.
So she damned well should be! She was lucky he didn’t stalk over there and haul her out into the open rather than let her skulk among De Laurentis’s yes men.
As if sensing his stare, her eyes flicked up and caught on his. The impact of that aquamarine gaze carved a familiar hollow through his chest.
Fury, he assured himself.
Anger at her betrayal.
Righteous affront at being left by his lover without explanation.
He
was the one who decided when a relationship was over.
The buzzing in his ears resolved into a conversation that slowed as one face after another turned to him, eyes expectant. He blinked and tried to make sense of what De Laurentis said, aware of the other man’s curiosity.
Ruthlessly Fabrizio sliced his gaze from hers and focused on the business at hand. If De Laurentis had any idea of using Jenna MacDonald to distract him, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, her presence incited a bloodlust for victory unlike any he’d known.
Fabrizio let his lips curve in a lethal smile and delivered his first salvo.
Fortunately he was the only one
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