Mary Lyons - The Italian Seduction

“Yes, technically speaking, I suppose I have. But…”

“Well, there you are!” Lorenzo grinned wolfishly down at her. “I suddenly realized that it would be churlish, to say the least, to turn down the opportunity of having you, my dear Antonia, closely guarding my body through the night.”

“You must be joking!” she laughed.

But, as Antonia discovered for the second time that evening, she was guilty of seriously underestimating an opponent, as Lorenzo suddenly moved at what seemed to be the speed of light. A nanosecond later, she found herself firmly clasped by one steely, unyielding arm while he placed his other hand firmly under her chin.

As he tilted her face up toward him, she barely had time to become aware of his blue eyes glittering down at her, before his dark head was descending swiftly toward her, his mouth possessing her lips in a kiss of devastating intensity.

MARY LYONS was born in Toronto, Canada, moving to live permanently in England when she was six, although she still proudly maintains her Canadian citizenship. Having married and raised four children, her life nowadays is relatively peaceful—unlike her early years when she worked as a radio announcer, reviewed books and, for a time, lived in a turbulent area of the Middle East. She still enjoys a bit of excitement, combining romance with action, humor and suspense in her books whenever possible.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

‘LORENZO—you really must be sensible! You could be in grave danger.’

‘Nonsense!’

Standing behind his large desk, Lorenzo Foscari gave a brief, slightly irritated shrug of his broad shoulders as he continued to toss files and papers into an open briefcase. ‘Quite frankly, Matteo, I consider that you, and the other directors of this company, are taking these foolish threats far too seriously.’

Matteo Barocci gave a heavy sigh, before once again trying to persuade the younger man to see sense.

Unfortunately, it clearly wasn’t going to be an easy task. Which was hardly surprising. After all, no man of thirty-eight—let alone a good-looking, wealthy bachelor with a host of glamorous girlfriends—was likely to welcome having his private life seriously curtailed.

However, as a director of a large industrial corporation—of which Lorenzo was chairman and managing director— Matteo could only agree with the firm’s insurance company when they’d insisted that action must be taken immediately.

‘In the event of anything happening to Signor Foscari, we would be called upon to pay out a huge sum of money to your company. Which is why we cannot afford to take any risks, and are insisting that he has close protection, at all times, until there is no longer any threat to his life.’

But it was one thing for the insurance company to lay down the law, Matteo told himself with another, heavy sigh and quite another to persuade Lorenzo to accept measures designed to protect him. All the same…he had no choice but to try.

‘Now, Lorenzo—you must listen to reason,’ he pleaded. ‘Because, however “foolish” it may seem to you, once someone has written letters threatening your life, it would be the height of folly to take no notice of such a warning.’

‘Sì, d’accordo…I agree. You are quite right to insist that I take sensible precautions,’ Lorenzo said, placing his passport in the case, before firmly closing the lid. ‘And that’s precisely what I intend to do.’

‘So, you’ll agree to have a bodyguard, and…’

‘Absolutely not.’ Lorenzo shook his dark head as he pressed down the intercom, asking his secretary to notify the chauffeur that he was about to leave the building. ‘While I am quite prepared to be careful, I refuse to believe that I am in any immediate danger. Certainly not enough to warrant the appointment of a bodyguard!’

‘But our insurers and the other directors of the company are insisting that…’

‘Damn it, Matteo!’ Lorenzo grated, his blue eyes glinting with anger and frustration. ‘We both know that the man was nothing but a thief. A loathsome little man who, in his role of chief accountant, betrayed our trust by stealing tens of millions of lire from this company, before I sacked him. Right?’

‘Quite right. But…’

‘Yes…yes, I know that he’s apparently made threats against my life,’ Lorenzo added impatiently. ‘But I fail to understand why everyone seems to be taking him seriously.’

‘I’ve already explained that…’

‘Oh, come on! Giovanni may have been a crooked, greedy man, who had no scruples about robbing this company. But the idea that he’s suddenly become a dangerous assassin is totally absurd!’

Continuing to ignore the older man’s protests, he picked up his briefcase from the desk, moving swiftly across the thick carpet towards the door of his large, spacious office.

‘For instance, I very much doubt if Giovanni would even recognise a gun when he saw one—let alone know how to fire it. Which is why the idea that I now need a bodyguard—to protect me from such a puny, insignificant little man—is utter nonsense!’

‘But…but the insurance company is insisting that you…you must take precautions,’ Matteo protested breathlessly, almost having to run to keep up with the other man’s tall, slim figure as Lorenzo left his office, and began striding quickly down the marble-floored corridor, towards his personal elevator.

‘For how long would I be expected to put up with this bodyguard? One month? Six months? A year?’

‘Well…er…I really don’t know,’ Matteo muttered helplessly. ‘It could be for some time, I suppose.’

‘That is precisely the conclusion I’d come to,’ Lorenzo snapped as the elevator doors opened and he entered the steel cage, closely followed by his colleague. So as far as I’m concerned you can forget it! Because I’m damned if I’ll put up with being forced to live—for who knows what length of time?—with some empty-brained, muscle-bound gorilla!’

It was now far too late, of course, Lorenzo told himself grimly, his lips tightening with exasperation as the lift hurtled down, towards the ground floor of the large office building. It was far too late to regret not calling in the police when he’d first been informed by the auditors of a serious problem in the company’s financial department. Prompt and swift action, at that point, would undoubtedly have saved everyone a considerable amount of time and trouble.

Unfortunately, instead of being sensible, he’d allowed his compassion to overcome his better judgement.

After calling the chief accountant, Giovanni Parini, into his office and tearing him off a strip, Lorenzo had been disconcerted and embarrassed when the man had broken down—not only admitting his guilt, but weeping with distress about the future welfare of his wife and many small children. Which was why, very stupidly, Lorenzo had merely called Security to have the man immediately escorted from the building.

What an idiot he’d been! Because it had soon become evident that there was no wife and definitely no small children. In fact, Giovanni, who’d been living alone with his comfortably off, elderly mother, had now disappeared and was on the run. But not before leaving behind him a letter, threatening to kill Lorenzo—the one person who’d been foolish enough to show him some clemency.