Annie West - Royals Untamed!

Liam O’Connor laughed dryly. ‘Delucca, I have no doubt that you could click your fingers and find a wife in seconds. Your reputation—’

Gianni swung around then, cutting the other man off. He forced his voice to sound calm when inside he felt hot, irritated. ‘Be very careful, O’Connor.’

The other man stood up from behind his desk and came around it. He was tall and imposing. Handsome, with a head of thick silver hair. The older alpha male squaring up to the younger one, even if Gianni was taller, younger and infinitely more handsome than O’Connor ever had been. Gianni knew all about alpha males; he’d squared up to the most alpha of them all: his father.

O’Connor spoke bluntly. ‘No other company can give you the instant sheen of respectability that we can, merely by association. If we merge, people trust our name enough to automatically trust you. Your products will be on shelves across the world within months. I am offering you the chance to prove your commitment to both your brand and your family name. You don’t need me to tell you that the people you will be dealing with will be more likely to put their trust and investment in a family man.’

Again the unspoken rang as loudly as a bell in the room: And in someone who didn’t have links to the underworld, or who had the damaging reputation of a playboy. Damn him. O’Connor was right. So how badly did he want this? Badly enough to embark on a union he’d never wished for? For the sake of a deal? Social acceptance? Professional respectability?

But it’s the deal of a lifetime , whispered a little voice.

Wanting to assert his position more, Gianni pointed out, ‘That may very well be the case but don’t forget that your own business will be reinvigorated by a new association with a luxury Italian brand of products, the first merger of its kind.’

O’Connor inclined his head with a spark in his eyes. He obviously didn’t like to be reminded that his motives weren’t exactly altruistic.

And then Gianni asked abruptly, ‘Why is it so important to you that marriage to your daughter is part of the deal?’

The spark in O’Connor’s eyes was quickly veiled as he said easily, ‘She’s our only child and heir. I’m an old-fashioned man, Delucca. I want her future to be secure, and through her and you, we keep our name alive.’

Gianni felt a niggle of suspicion but then something caught his peripheral vision and he looked past O’Connor to where a group of framed photos were hung on a wall. He walked over. There were pictures of O’Connor with various celebrities, including two American presidents, and then presumably his wife—an attractive woman with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes.

And below them all was an image of a young woman on a horse, head back and wide generous mouth open, clearly laughing. Slim shoulders. A snug T-shirt hugged generous firm breasts. He could just make out a narrow waist, gently flaring hips. Taut thighs. She was stunningly beautiful. Almond-shaped green eyes, lighter than her mother’s. Vibrant red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Pale skin with flushed rosy cheeks. Freckles.

Something deep in Gianni’s gut clenched at her unadorned beauty. Even though she wasn’t remotely his type.

He barely picked up on the faintly smug tone in O’Connor’s voice when the man said, ‘That’s my daughter, Keelin. So have you come to a decision?’

Gianni didn’t answer out loud. He didn’t need to. They both knew the answer.

Copyright © 2015 by Harlequin Books S.A.

“Are you okay?”

She steadied herself on the wall, taking a deep breath of relief before turning to speak to her rescuer. But the words died in her throat.

Bright blue eyes and a broad chest obstructed her view. Even on a dark Paris night those blue eyes would have attracted her attention. He was tall, dark-haired, with a broad chest, wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans with a dark wool coat on top.

He smiled as he looked down at all the people below. “I'm sorry if I startled you. But you looked frightened.”

“I was. Thank you.” She shook her coat free, letting some air circulate around her, and pulled her red hat from her hair. “There—that's much better.”

“It certainly is.”

He was smiling appreciatively at her and for a second she was unnerved. But, no. There was nothing predatory about her rescuer. He had kind eyes. And the man exuded sex appeal from twenty paces. If her up-close-and-personal alarm was going off it wasn't because she was scared—it was because it had been jolted back into life. About time too.

She held out her hand towards him. “Ruby. Ruby Wetherspoon from England.”

His warm hand closed around hers. “Alex,” he said simply.

Her eyes glanced up and down his body. The dark wool coat seemed a little strange for a young guy—a little formal.

“Are you from here?”

The corners of his lips turned upwards. “Close enough.”

Mystery. She liked it. Perfect for New Year's Eve.

SCARLET WILSONwrote her first story aged eight and has never stopped. Her family have fond memories of Shirley and the Magic Purse, with its army of mice, all with names beginning with the letter M. An avid reader, Scarlet started with every Enid Blyton book, moved on to the Chalet School series and many years later found Mills & Boon ®novels.

She trained and worked as a nurse and health visitor, and currently works in public health. For her, finding Mills & Boon was a match made in heaven. She is delighted to find herself among the authors she has read for many years.

Scarlet lives on the West Coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons.

This book is dedicated to our newest family addition, Luca Cole Dickson, already gorgeous, well-behaved and utterly charming.

The ladies in his later life won't stand a chance!

PROLOGUE

Ten years earlier

SHE COULD FEEL the electricity in the air, feel the excitement. It seemed as if everyone in the world had decided to celebrate New Year’s Eve in Paris.

She was jostled along with the crowd, being practically carried off her feet on the route from the Champs-élysées towards the Eiffel Tower.

‘Aren’t you glad you came?’ her friend Polly screamed in her ear, sloshing wine over her sleeve. ‘This is the best place in the world right now.’

‘Yes, it is,’ murmured Ruby.

It certainly beat sitting at home in her flat, brooding over the job that wasn’t to be or the boyfriend who never should have been.

Polly gave a squeal. ‘The fireworks will be starting in an hour. Let’s try and get near the front!’

Ruby nodded as she was shouldered from behind. There were ten in their group but it was getting harder and harder to stick together. ‘I need to find a bathroom before we head to the fireworks,’ she whispered to Polly. ‘Give me five minutes.’

There were cafés and bars open all the way along the Champs-élysées, but unfortunately for her just about every female in the city seemed to have the same idea that she had.

She waved to Polly, ‘Go on without me. I’ll meet you at the sign we saw earlier.’

The group had already planned their night with precision. Dinner on a riverboat. Drinks in the hotel. A walk along the Champs-élysées and rendezvous at the Eiffel Tower for the fireworks. They’d already picked the spot they planned to stand at in case anyone got lost—which on a night like tonight was a certainty.

She stood in a queue for an eternity before finally heading back out to the thronging crowds. In the thirty minutes it had taken to get access to a bathroom it seemed the whole of Paris had started to congregate in the streets.