Harlequin Romance September 2021 Box Set Page 16

  “What if I agree to get married?”

  His eyes lit up with interest. “I’d say it was about time. Who is it? Fernando from dinner last night?” He rubbed his chin. “Or perhaps it is Edwardo that caught your eye.”

  “You’re rushing ahead.” She had him on the hook. Now she just had to keep him there.

  His gaze narrowed. “I know that look in your eyes. You’re up to something.”

  “I’m just being a businesswoman.”

  He grunted. “Leave the business up to me. You have other matters to worry about.”

  “Ah, yes, marriage. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to see me married?”

  “Sacrifice?” His shocked tone reverberated off the tall walls with their floor-to-ceiling windows and various watercolor paintings of Italian life. “What is it you want in exchange?”

  “I want you to hand over the reins of the company for—” she rushed to think of an appropriate length of time “—a year.”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at her. Though she knew him well enough to know the wheels in his mind were turning. He was trying to figure out how to work this in his favor—how he could get everything he wanted. But it wouldn’t work. Not this time.

  He shook his head. “Not a year. A month.”

  She pressed her hands to her hips. She could be just as stubborn as him. “A month isn’t enough time to rearrange the furniture in this office.”

  His silver brows rose high on his forehead. “You’re going to change the office? But I love it the way it is—”

  “No, I’m not.” She sighed. “That was just a figure of speech. But you know exactly what I mean. I need more than a month. You need more time to recuperate.”

  He shook his head. “When you get married, you’re supposed to concentrate on your husband. Not spend all your time in the office.”

  “You let me worry about my marriage and my office hours. But since you aren’t interested in negotiating, let’s forget it. I have work to do in my office. It’s time you went home.” She turned for the door, all the while hoping he would stop her. “After all, the doctor hasn’t released you for work.”

  She took slow, measured steps to the door. She thought of stopping and speaking to him, but she knew her father was a shrewd poker player. He would see a bluff from a long way off if she wasn’t careful. And it wasn’t truly a bluff. If he went for this deal, she would be getting married. The thought sent dread skittering down her spine. But she would deal with that if or when the time came.

  “Okay.” The resigned tone of his voice said that she had won. “Three months.”

  She didn’t immediately turn; she hesitated just for a second or two, just like any good negotiator would do. Because he might be her father, but he was a businessman first, last and always.

  She needed time to implement her plan to modernize the restaurant chain. She’d already been in talks with various department heads. But it was going to take a long time to give hundreds of restaurants makeovers.

  When she faced him, she said, “Six months.” It would give her enough time to firm up a plan and start the renovations on a couple of restaurants—enough to show her father what a difference it would make to their patrons and eventually their bottom line. When he went to negotiate further, she cut him off. “Six months, not a day less, or the deal is null and void. And I want this in writing.”

  And then her father smiled. “You do have your father in you. Nicely played. Now who is the man you’ve chosen to marry?”

  “All in due time. First, we have a contract to draw up. The rest will follow.”

  It was only then that she let the reality of this deal sink in. She was getting married. She was about to marry someone she didn’t love. She was in so much trouble.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Two weeks later

  “MARRY ME.”

  Seated in a little out-of-the-way café on the outskirts of Verona, Franco Marchello wordlessly opened his mouth. He immediately forgot what he’d been about to say. Surely he hadn’t heard correctly. Because there was absolutely no way Carla Falco had proposed to him.

  Still, he’d seen her glossy red lips move. The words she’d spoken, he must have gotten them mixed up. That was it. His mind raced to come up with an alternative: Carry me? Bury me? None of the alternatives made a bit of sense.

  Franco swallowed hard. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

  Carla didn’t smile. In fact, she looked quite serious, the way he imagined seeing her at the head of the table in a boardroom. “I asked you to marry me.”

  That’s what he thought she’d said. And yet he had no idea why she’d propose to him.

  Sure, they might have had a good time at his brother’s wedding two weeks ago at Lake Como. She had been the maid of honor and he’d been the best man, but that had been one evening of laughter and dancing. Maybe he hadn’t wanted the evening to end so soon, but Carla had avoided his attempts to turn the evening into something more intimate. So what had changed her mind?

  The following week, he’d invited her to dinner. She’d been hesitant until he assured her that it would be a proper business dinner. After all, she’d rebuffed him once. He wasn’t about to subject himself to being rejected twice—no matter how beautiful he found her or how her glossy lips tempted him. He made it abundantly clear that the only thing on his mind was a mutually beneficial business arrangement.

  Even though it’d been dinner for two, as promised, he’d kept it all aboveboard. He’d pitched her the reason she should consider putting Marchello Spices back in all her family’s restaurants. She’d told him she didn’t have the authority to make it happen. Her father was still controlling every aspect of the company. But she had been curious enough to agree to review the projections. He knew if she saw the same potential that he’d seen in those numbers, she wouldn’t be able to ignore them. At last, he had an in with her father, who’d refused numerous times to meet with him—all because of an old grudge between him and Franco’s grandfather.

  And that’s where things had ended—on the sidewalk outside the café. Had there been something in his drink that evening? Had he blacked out and totally forgotten about some torrid romantic night together—anything to explain this most unexpected proposal?

  Because he didn’t do marriage—no way. He was a Marchello. Marchellos were notoriously bad at marriage. At least his parents had been.

  But then again, his younger brother had just gotten married. That was what had initially led Franco directly into Carla’s orbit. And they’d been running into each other ever since. Now it seemed as though the entire world had completely and utterly rotated off its axis.

  He struggled to swallow. His brain raced to find the right words. “Why do you want to get married?”

  He purposely failed to include himself in that question. Maybe she just wanted to get married to anyone and he just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  She glanced away. “Perhaps I jumped a bit ahead.”

  “You think?” When his words caused her to frown, he quieted down. Now that the shock had worn off a bit, he was anxious to hear what this was all about.

  She toyed with the spoon resting on the saucer next to her teacup. “My father isn’t well.”

  “I heard about his heart attack the night of my brother’s wedding. How’s he doing?”

  “The doctors have warned him that if he doesn’t slow down and watch his diet, the prognosis isn’t good.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Now he understood the impromptu proposal. “And you want to get married to make him happy, in case something happens?”

  “No. I want to get married so nothing happens to him.”

  He had absolutely no idea what any of this had to do with him. As far as he knew, her father hated not just him but his whole family. �
�But surely you have a boyfriend to marry.”

  “If I did, do you really think I’d propose to you?”

  Okay, so he was still missing something. “Our families hate each other.” He shook his head. “This is a very bad idea.”

  The story went that his grandfather and Carla’s father used to be good friends. They would play cards at their private club. But Carla’s father started drinking a lot and his gambling got out of control—so much so that he risked his restaurant empire. Desperate not to lose everything, Carlo Falco cheated at cards. And the two men haven’t spoken since.

  Carla crossed her arms. “If your grandfather hadn’t lied about my father—”

  “He didn’t.” Franco stopped himself just in time, because if he’d said more, he knew it would hurt Carla, and she didn’t deserve it.

  She blindly loved her father, oblivious to his faults. Who was he to steal that from her? Franco knew what it was to live without a father’s love. He didn’t want to be the one to drive a wedge between Carla and her father.

  She arched a brow at him. “Stands to reason you’d be on your grandfather’s side.”

  Anything he said about the ill feelings between their families was just going to make matters worse. And it wasn’t helping him understand Carla’s sudden proposal.

  “I’m confused. Why you think we should get married?” He gazed at her until she glanced away.

  “My father refuses to let me run the company as I see fit, even though I have a business degree that is doing nothing more than collecting dust. He’s more intent on having me plan his social functions while he works on finding me the appropriate husband—someone who can step in and run his company.”

  “And you think I can run his company on top of managing my own family business?”

  A frown pulled at her beautiful face as her gaze met his once more. “Certainly not.”

  “Then I still don’t understand.”

  She sighed and glanced out the window at the bustling piazza. “My father is resistant to hand over the reins of the company to me, even though he’s had a massive heart attack.” She failed to mention the most recent heart attack as she’d promised her father to keep it quiet. “Instead he spends all his time parading men in front of me, hoping I’ll choose one to marry.”

  “So I was right.” He’d warned her about her father’s matchmaking at his brother’s wedding to her cousin.

  “Yes. I confronted him, and the rumors are true.” She didn’t sound happy about it. “He started this matchmaking before he’d had his heart attack, but now he’s gone into overdrive. So in order for me to be able to pick my own husband and also to prove to my father that I’m quite capable of running the business, I’ve negotiated a deal with him. According to our agreement, I have until the end of the year to marry. If I don’t marry by then, the deal is null and void. But I don’t intend to waste any time with the formalities. Once I’m married, I can run the company any way I see fit for the following six months.”

  “You arranged a marriage contract?” He didn’t know if he should be awed by her or worried about her.

  “In a manner of speaking. All with the best of intentions.” Then her big brown eyes turned to him. “So, will you do it? Will you marry me?”

  * * *

  Her insides were knotted up with nervous energy.

  Carla couldn’t believe she’d been pushed into this unbelievably awkward position. She’d never imagined she’d be marrying for business, not love. But if she didn’t do something drastic, she feared her father would work himself to death, quite literally. Just the thought made her heart clench.

  And though she was marrying someone that her father would be totally opposed to, she knew if her father gave Franco a chance, he would see what she’d seen—that Franco was a good guy. If he wasn’t someone she could reasonably trust and respect, she wouldn’t have made this totally outrageous proposition.

  Buzz. Buzz.

  Her gaze moved to her phone that was quietly resting on the table. Even though it was the same ringtone, it was Franco’s phone going off. She glanced across the table as Franco sat there like a statue, staring unblinkingly out the window. His phone buzzed again.

  When he didn’t move this time, she said, “Franco, it’s your phone.”

  That startled him out of his deep thoughts. As he reached for his phone, she studied him. From his short dark curls on the top of his head to his clean-shaven face to those intense, dark eyes that felt as though they could totally see through her, to his aristocratic nose and finally to those very kissable lips—not that she’d had the luxury of feeling his mouth pressed to hers.

  While he rapidly sent some text messages, she continued her leisurely view of the man that she’d just proposed to. He had broad, strong shoulders and a muscular chest. And then there were his hands, with his long, lean fingers. Her mother would have said that he had the hands of a concert pianist—as her mother had been a concert pianist until she’d married. But if Carla were a betting person, she’d say that Franco didn’t know the C key from the A.

  Franco slipped his phone in his pocket. His gaze met hers. “Sorry. It was business.”

  She nodded in understanding. “No problem. I know your family business is as important to you as mine is to me.”

  His eyes lit up. “We do have that in common. But you’ve obviously misinterpreted our time together—”

  “I didn’t.” Heat rushed to her face as she realized he thought she was in love with him—nothing could be further from the truth. “I have no illusions about what a marriage between us would be like.”

  His gaze narrowed in on her. “So you’re not in love with me?”

  She couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up inside her. Sure, he was drop-dead gorgeous, but he had one big fault—he was like her father, always thinking about business. And she had no desire to marry anyone. “Of course not. Is that what you thought?”

  He shrugged. “Well, that’s usually why people get married.”

  “But we’re not usual people, are we?”

  “Even so, I’m not getting married—not to you or anyone else.” His tone was firm and unbending.

  She wasn’t giving up now. “Listen, I know this marriage idea is a bit of a surprise—okay, it’s a big shocker—but don’t dismiss the idea so quickly. It could be beneficial to both of us.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment as he continued to stare at her—as though he were trying to break through her barriers and read her most intimate thoughts. Not that she’d let him get that close.

  She’d already been hurt enough by her college sweetheart. Matteo had been Mr. Popularity, and she’d been the socialite with all the right connections.

  Matteo had been eager to get into politics, and though she saw herself as being more than a politician’s wife, she’d agreed to marry him. Her parents had been delighted. And so after graduation, they’d delayed the wedding and instead thrown themselves into Matteo’s first campaign.

  It had been a grueling year of public events, dinners and interviews. She felt as though the layers of her life had been peeled back for all the world to see.

  It wasn’t just her life the press had delved into. And that’s when they’d exposed Matteo’s duplicity. The story of him conducting an affair with his campaign manager was front-page news, complete with a picture of them wrapped up in each other’s arms kissing.

  Just the memory made her shudder inwardly. She’d barely dodged that disaster. She never wanted to let herself be that vulnerable again.

  She gave herself a mental shake, chasing away the troublesome thoughts from the past. She was no longer that doe-eyed girl who thought love would win out. Her heart had been hardened. She was much more practical now.

  While Franco might be the most handsome man she’d ever met, she had absolutely no intention of acting upon that
chemistry. This would be a business arrangement, nothing more.

  His gaze narrowed. “Beneficial how?”

  “Should I marry, I assume full control of the company for six months, during which time my father can’t override any of my decisions.”

  A flicker of interest ignited in his dark eyes. “And what’s in it for me?”

  “I know you want your products once more on all the tables in the Falco chain. That’s a lot of tables—many more than there were back when our families were doing business together.”

  “And you will have the power to make that happen.”

  She nodded. “My signed, sealed and official agreement gives me all the power, once I marry.”

  Franco’s brows rose. Her totally outlandish scheme had caught and held his attention. She suppressed a smile that threatened to lift her lips. Now wasn’t the time for gloating over a plan that would not only benefit the two of them, but more importantly it’d help her father—even if he was too stubborn to see it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MARRIAGE WAS OUT of the question.

  It was tantamount to self-destruction.

  And yet this proposal was most tempting.

  Franco couldn’t believe he was not only entertaining the thought of marrying Carla but also very tempted to say yes.

  With his appetite long forgotten, he glanced across the table. Carla’s unfinished meal had been pushed off to the side. It appeared neither of them were that hungry. He paid the check, and then they headed outside. He had no particular destination in mind.

  When he’d accepted her request for this dinner, he figured it would be to turn down his latest business proposal to place his spices back in the Falco Fresco Ristorantes. Carla’s family’s company was the largest restaurant chain in all of Italy. It spanned from the northern fringes of the country down to the warm shores of Naples. It’d taken decades for the chain to be the most well-known name in Italy, but they’d succeeded. And Franco liked to think his family had something to do with it, seeing as his family’s spices were what they’d used in the restaurant until more recent years.