Kate Hardy - Latin Lovers - Italian Playboys

He was well aware of Nadia Selbourne’s reputation, even though he hadn’t met her personally. He’d seen one or two photos, however, which had shown a beautiful woman with thick long blonde hair, eyes that were an unusual smoky grey and the sort of figure that not only turned heads but turned on other parts of the male anatomy at an astonishingly rapid rate as well. His brother had been completely besotted with her until her true character had come out. He could still recall Andre’s scathing description of how she had responded when he’d informed her that their short but passionate affair was over. She had hounded him for months, following him and harassing him relentlessly.

But somehow the thought of his dead brother’s blood flowing through the tiny veins of her child stirred him both unexpectedly and deeply.

‘Marc.’ His father’s desperate voice cut across his reflections. ‘You have to do this. It is a matter of family honour. Andre would have done the same for you if things had been the other way around.’

It was hard for Marc to imagine ever allowing himself to get into the sort of disasters his younger brother had for most of his life, but he didn’t think it worthwhile pointing that out now. His father had already suffered enough; he’d lost his beloved son.

It had been no secret in the Marcello family that Andre had always been his father’s favourite. His sunny nature and charming boisterous personality had won everyone over virtually from the day he’d been born, leaving Marc with his more serious disposition on the outside.

He frowned as he considered his father’s plan. What would it take to convince this woman to hand over the child? Would she take the money and go, or would she insist on something more formal, such as.

His stomach tightened momentarily as he recalled how his brother had told him that Nadia Selbourne was relentless in her search for a rich husband.

But surely his father wouldn’t expect him to go that far!

So far Marc had managed to ignore the pressure to marry, although he had come very close a few years ago. But it had ended rather badly and he’d actively avoided heavy emotional entanglements since then. Besides, Andre had always made it clear he was going to marry young and father all the Marcello heirs so the family dynasty would be secure. Marc had decided women were not to be trusted where money was involved. And in the Marcello family a lot of money was involved.

His heart contracted at the thought of a small dark-haired infant with black-brown eyes—eyes that would one day soon dance with mischief, as her father’s had for his too short thirty years of life.

‘So will you do it?’ Vito pressed. ‘Will you do this one thing for me and your late mother?’

Marc pinched the bridge of his Roman nose, his eyes squeezing shut. The mention of his mother always tore at him deeply, the sharp guilt cutting into him until he felt as if he was bleeding. He still remembered that last day, the way she had smiled and waved at him from the other side of the busy street in Rome. She hadn’t seen the motor scooter until it had ripped the shopping bags out of her hands, spinning her into the pathway of an oncoming car.

He couldn’t help believing that if he had been honest with her about why he was going to be late, maybe she would not have been killed. His father had begged him, and he had honoured him by doing as he’d asked, but the guilt even now was like a deep dark current that dragged at his feet, weighing him down relentlessly.

When his brother had been killed so soon after the death of his mother, Marc hadn’t been able to rid himself of the feeling that his father would have grieved a whole lot less if it had been him instead of Andre in that mangled car.

He let out his breath and, releasing his fingers, answered resignedly. ‘I will see what I can do.’

‘Thank you.’ The relief in his father’s voice was unmistakable.

Marc knew his father’s days were numbered. How much more precious would they be if he could hold his only grandchild in his arms?

‘She might refuse to even see me, you know,’ Marc warned, thinking again of that vituperative letter his father had sent. ‘Have you considered that possibility?’

‘Do whatever you have to do to make her see reason,’ Vito instructed. ‘And I mean anything. This is simply a business arrangement. Women like Nadia Selbourne expect nothing more and nothing less.’

A business arrangement.

What sort of woman was this, Marc thought, who would bargain with the life of a small child?

He put the phone down a few minutes later and turned once more to the sweeping view outside. His dark eyes narrowed against the angle of the sun as he considered what he’d just agreed to do.

He was going to visit the one person he hated more than any other in the world—the woman he believed responsible for his brother’s untimely death.

NINA had not long fed and settled Georgia on Monday morning when the doorbell rang. Giving the small neat room a quick glance, she made her way across the threadbare carpet, wondering what it was that her elderly neighbour wanted now. Ellice Tippen had already borrowed a carton of milk and half a packet of plain biscuits and it wasn’t even lunch time.

She opened the door as she plastered a welcoming smile on her face but it instantly faded as her gaze shifted a long way upwards to meet a pair of dark, almost black, eyes.

‘Miss Selbourne?’

‘I … yes,’ she answered, unconsciously putting a hand up to her throat.

The tall figure standing before her was even more arresting in the flesh than the grainy newspaper photo had portrayed. He was taller than average, well over six feet, his shoulders broad and his overall stance nothing short of commanding. The hard angle of his lean clean-shaven jaw hinted at a streak of intractability in his personality, and his eyes held no trace of friendliness. His perfectly tailored business suit superbly highlighted his strong lean body, suggesting he was a man used to a great deal of punishing physical activity.

‘I am assuming you know who I am.’ His voice was deep and had a hard edge to it as if he wasn’t the type to block his punches.

‘I … er … yes.’

What else could she say? The weekend paper was still open at his photo on the coffee table behind her. Every time she’d walked past she’d told herself to screw it up and throw it out, but somehow she hadn’t. She wasn’t entirely sure why.

‘I understand you have my brother’s child,’ he said into the stiff silence.

‘I … yes, that’s correct.’ A vision of Georgia’s dark bruises flashed into Nina’s mind and her rising panic increased her heart rate to an almost intolerable level. She had to keep him away from her niece!

‘I would like to see her.’

‘I’m afraid she’s sleeping just now, so.’ She let the sentence trail away, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t.

He held her gaze for a lengthy moment and just when she began to close the door he put his foot out to block it.

‘Perhaps you did not hear me, Miss Selbourne.’ His tone hardened even further as his diamond-hard eyes lasered hers. ‘I am here to see my brother’s child and I will not be leaving until I do so.’

Nina knew he meant every hard-bitten word and, stepping back from the door, sent him a chilling glance. ‘If you wake her I’ll be extremely angry.’ Please stay asleep, Georgia, she silently pleaded as he moved through the doorway, coming to stand right in front of her as the door clicked shut behind him.

He gave her a sweeping up and down look and when his eyes met hers they were full of contempt. ‘Andre told me all about you.’