Italian Prince, Wedlocked Wife Read online

  But Lucy had never left Illinois. She’d lived in foster homes until she was eighteen, then worked and scrimped her way into college. Her sophomore year, working at a department store, she’d met a handsome, smooth-talking man who spoke Italian—the vice president of a fashion house based out of New York. He delighted her with stories of Rome, promising to someday take her to visit.

  Lucy had never met a man like Alex Wentworth. A man so magical…so glamorous…so exotic. She’d dropped out of college, giving up all her hard work, simply because he’d complained that school took too much of her time. She’d fallen like a brick.

  She was still falling. The dream had become a nightmare. He’d fled to Rome, beyond the reach of Chicago’s child support laws. For the last year, he’d returned all her letters and photographs unopened. He’d sent her one curt note, telling her he was in love with someone else. He’d suggested Chloe was not his child and that Lucy was either a delusional stalker or a gold-digging whore.

  It had nearly killed her. But she was fine now. Really. She could live with a broken heart.

  What she couldn’t understand was how he could deny their child. How he could live in luxury, drinking wine, taking lovers, enjoying a warm, beautiful city—when he’d left his innocent baby behind to suffer?

  If Lucy went to Italy, she could ask him.

  Looking up at the dark stranger, she licked her dry lips. “Let me get this straight. You…you want to take me to Italy?”

  He gave her a sensual smile. “Sì. And you will never worry about money again.”

  She almost couldn’t breathe. The man hadn’t been lying—it really was an offer straight out of her wildest dreams. To never have to scrimp again, wake up in a terrified panic in the middle of the night, wondering how she’d pay her bills. To know Chloe was safe and warm and secure forever.

  And she could see Alex. He’d been able to ignore her letters, but he couldn’t ignore her if she showed up at his office, could he? Once she showed him a picture of Chloe, he would come to his senses. He would love their beautiful baby. Once he saw their daughter, once she was real to him, how could he do anything but love her?

  Lucy accepted that he’d moved on to another woman. But she couldn’t bear for Chloe to grow up without a father, as she herself had. Without a father, Lucy’d had no one to love or protect her when her mother had died…

  “So you agree?” the dark stranger said coolly.

  Lucy clasped her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to take me to Italy? How would that hurt Alex?”

  The man gave a cold smile. “He will realize how great a fool he was to let you go.”

  A laugh rose in her throat, so bitter it nearly choked her. “How so?”

  “He will lose something he wants. Something that rightfully belongs to me.” The man reached forward, touching her shoulder. His latent power and sensuality burned through her blue cashier’s smock, sending a current of heat pouring through her veins like lava. “We will make him pay, Lucia.” His intense eyes mesmerized her. “All you have to do is say yes.”

  Yes, she thought, dazed at her own sudden change of fortune. Yes, yes, yes.

  But as her lips parted to speak the words, a realization made her freeze.

  She’d been through this before.

  Attracted to a devastatingly handsome man who made her blood race. Who’d promised her the world. She’d naively given him her heart, her future, her faith.

  And it had cost her everything.

  She wrenched her shoulder away.

  “Sorry,” she forced herself to say. “I’m not interested.”

  He blinked.

  “You’re—not interested?”

  She got the impression that no woman had ever turned him down for anything. It would have been amusing, if the whole situation hadn’t infuriated her—and made her hurt all over.

  Fighting back tears, she picked up her ratty handbag from the floor. “You walk in here, a total stranger. You get me fired—then expect me to blindly trust you? Are you out of your mind? Who do you think you are?”

  He gave her a brief bow, elegant and fluid and ironic. The sharp cut of his coat, his blue eyes against tanned skin, reminded her of Mediterranean sun and olive groves. He was a romantic fantasy, every dream she’d ever had of exotic lands. And then he spoke.

  “I am Prince Maximo d’Aquilla.”

  She stared at him for a shocked moment, thinking she’d heard him wrong, that she was having a flashback to all the historical novels she’d read as a teenager. “You’re a prince?”

  “Does my title impress you?” He punched numbers on his cell phone, the expression on his face hard as granite as he snapped it shut. “Va bene. Perhaps now you’ll cease your pointless resistance and accept your fate.”

  Prince Maximo d’Aquilla. An exotic name. But he was more than a dream. He was a flesh-and-blood man, a Roman gladiator hard of sinew and bone, with a powerful, dangerous edge.

  And he was too good to be true.

  She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “I grow weary of this.” His eyes traced over her. “I do not have time. We both know you’re coming with me. Either do it gracefully, or—” he came closer “—I will simply take you.”

  She could see at once that it was not an idle threat. He could take her—in any way he wished. And on this dark, empty, snowy night, with no cameras or weapons or customers, who would stop him?

  She sucked in her breath, gathering her anger like a defensive force. She would stop him.

  How dare he try to intimidate her this way! Did he think he could boss her around with his gorgeous face, his wealth, his power, his alleged royalty?

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” she demanded.

  “I’m starting to wonder.”

  “Your story is ridiculous! You’re a prince, and you want me to run away with you to Italy and be rich and happy? What’s your scam? I get on your plane, then what—end up sold into a harem in some desert?”

  “You think any sheikh would tolerate such insolence?” he said icily.

  “I just know that when a handsome man makes an offer that’s too good to be true, it means he’s lying.”

  His laser-blue eyes narrowed.

  “First you insult my honor. Now you call me a liar?”

  His voice held a quiet, dangerous edge. She trembled with fear, even as she rebelliously clenched her hands.

  “If you think I’m idiotic enough to believe some fantasy about becoming wealthy and getting revenge on Alex, you’re not just a liar, you’re a fool.”

  He looked down at her, and she felt scorching heat to her toes. His glance made her feel hot all over, dizzy, pummeled by a whirlwind. “If you were a man, I would make you regret those insults.”

  She raised her chin defiantly. “And since I’m a woman?”

  His fingers gently traced a tendril of dark hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Your punishment will be entirely different.”

  There was a sudden ring at the door. It took a moment for Lucy to even realize what that meant, lost as she was in the sensation tingling up her hair, her scalp, down her spine to her toes. How was it possible that with just a single touch, he could make her whole body shake…?

  A hulking man, shorter than Maximo but twice as wide, came to him with a deferential bow. “Mio principe.”

  “Ermanno.” The two men spoke in Italian, one giving calm commands, the other acquiescing with a nod.

  For a moment, she stared at Maximo. A gorgeous, wealthy, arrogant prince. Demanding that she go with him to Italy. Her, Lucy Abbott. A nobody.

  No! she told herself fiercely. She wasn’t a nobody. She was Chloe’s mother. And she couldn’t succumb to this so-called prince’s evil scheme, whatever it might be. She wouldn’t obey. And the fact that his slightest caress made her ache to surrender only proved how dangerous he truly was.

  Now. While he was distracted—this was her chance
to escape. Before he dragged her away to hell under the guise of sweet promises, and she never saw her daughter again.

  Quietly she edged back toward the door.

  The two men continued to talk.

  Lucy took a deep breath. Then turned and ran.

  “Ferma!” the dark prince roared. “Stop, Lucia!”

  Outside, the blast of cold air hit her, swirling snow and making her long dark ponytail twist in the wind. Pushing up her glasses, she sprinted for her old Honda. Parked behind the gas station, it was covered by ice and snow. Her hand shook as she stuck the key in the door.

  But the lock was frozen!

  Panicking, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Prince Maximo was striding toward her like a bull, his dark eyes cold and furious. Desperate, she turned it harder.

  The key broke off in her hand.

  She had no car. No escape.

  With a gasp, she turned and stumbled through the snow, crossing the street toward the deserted city park. On the other side of the vast, empty darkness she could see lights and the twinkle of traffic. But she’d barely reached the edge of the park before he caught up with her.

  He knocked her into the soft powder, his large, muscled body pressing her into the snow. Grabbing her wrists, he turned her over beneath him. She struggled, but he used his weight against her.

  She looked up at his face, so close to hers. With his body so hard and warm against her own, she could barely feel the cold snow beneath her.

  “Basta! I told you to stop!” He tightened his hands, shackling her wrists. “You must learn to obey.”

  The trees were dark over his head, their snowy branches waving like claws against the gray sky. Scattered moonlight sifted through the clouds, leaving his dark hair in a halo of light.

  “I’ll never obey you,” she cried. “Never!”

  “We’ll see.” His glance touched her lips, and she suddenly knew he was going to kiss her. In the dark winter wonderland of the park, they were utterly alone. Surrounded by snow and cold, she felt fire in her veins at his touch, and she was helpless to move, helpless to fight.

  But she had to fight. Without a mother to protect her, her baby would be vulnerable and alone, tossed into foster care as Lucy herself once had been. She couldn’t give in.

  She would fight to protect Chloe to her last breath…

  “Let me go,” she whispered. “Please. If you have any decency at all—if you’ve ever loved anyone and lost them—I’m begging you. Let me go.”

  Her quiet voice reverberated against the snow, muffled in the thick silence of the night.

  He stared down at her with sudden pain in his eyes.

  Abruptly he released her wrists and rose to his feet.

  “As you wish, cara mia,” he said, sounding almost bored. “Stay here if you wish. I am returning to my hotel.”

  Thank you, thank you, thank you, she thought fervently. She scrambled to her feet, turning on her heel, ready to run.

  “After all,” he mused behind her, “I want to make sure your baby is sleeping comfortably. And she hasn’t lost that little purple hippo she carries everywhere.”

  Her heart stopped in her chest.

  Wide-eyed with fear, she whirled back to face him. “What?”

  He looked at her with cool disdain. “Oh, did I not tell you? My men picked up your daughter an hour ago.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “YOU aren’t going to get away with this,” Lucy ground out for the tenth time as he drove them into downtown Chicago.

  Unmoved, Maximo parked his sleek black Mercedes beneath the grand marquee of the Drake Hotel. “You have no idea what I can get away with.”

  Furious, she ripped off her blue cashier’s smock, balling it up in her hands and tossing it to the floor. “I don’t know what the laws are like in Italy, but in Chicago, you can’t just kidnap someone—”

  “There are laws against kidnapping in Italy, as well.” He abruptly stopped the car. “They do not apply in this case. I did not kidnap your daughter.”

  “What do you call it then?”

  “I knew you would accept my offer. I simply expedited our departure.”

  Leaving the engine idling, he undid his seat belt and stepped out of the black SUV. Her eyes widened as she saw him carelessly hand a hundred-dollar bill to the waiting valet.

  “Thank you, your highness,” the young man breathed, and hurried to open the passenger-side door for Lucy. She nearly tripped over her own feet running after Maximo. With his long stride, he was already to the main door.

  “Welcome back, your highness.” The brawny doorman touched his cap with deep respect. “Happy New Year to you, sir.”

  “Grazie,” Maximo replied with a brief smile. “To you, as well.”

  Just inside the revolving door, Lucy caught up with him on the wide flight of stairs leading up to the lobby. She grabbed his arm. “You have them all fooled, don’t you?” she snapped. “Some prince. They think you’re respectable—honorable—but I know the truth. You’re nothing but a…”

  He looked at her hand, then back up. His blue eyes were icier than Lake Michigan in winter. “I’m what?”

  Fury pounded through her, making her reckless. “A thief. A blackmailer. A kidnapper of children—”

  He grabbed her shoulders. She felt the strength of his touch. He looked down, towering over her. His handsome face was as cold and hard as ever; there was something new beneath his eyes—something ferocious and angry, held back by the sheerest force of will.

  Looking up into his face, she was suddenly afraid.

  His voice was low. “Be careful how you provoke me.”

  She swallowed, remembering his earlier promise to punish her like a woman deserved. “I’m not scared of you,” she lied. “And if you think taking me to your hotel room—forcing me into bed—will hurt Alexander, you’re dead wrong.”

  He abruptly released her.

  “I’ve never forced any woman into my bed,” he said coolly. His eyes traced her face, then up and down the length of her body. “If I ever decide I want you, cara, you’ll come to me willingly.”

  The colossal arrogance of the man! A hot flush suffused her cheeks. “How dare you—”

  “Fortunately you are not my type,” he said. “You are far too plain, too badly dressed, too young—”

  “Oh,” she gasped, humiliated to the core.

  “You are not a woman to me,” he said coldly. “You are a weapon.”

  A weapon? She sucked in her breath. “What do you intend to do to Alex?”

  “Why do you care? Unless you’re still in love with him.”

  She shook her head. “Of course not! But he’s my baby’s father!”

  “Don’t worry.” His lip curled into a sneer. “He will merely be forced to admit that he has a daughter. Surely you have no objection to that?”

  Alex had been keeping Chloe a secret? “No,” she muttered. “I’ve no objection.”

  “And he will lose his bid for a company. Someone else—someone you don’t know—will also lose.”

  “How many enemies do you have, anyway?” Lucy demanded, then shook her head. “Hundreds. Thousands. Everyone who’s ever met you, I imagine! I don’t care. Just take me to my daughter. If you’ve hurt or frightened her, I swear I’ll—”

  “I would never hurt a child, signorina. Just as I would never hurt a woman.” His lip curled as he added under his breath, “Although you tempt me.”

  She followed him up the steps to the elegant 1920s-style lobby. The soaring ceiling sparkled with enormous chandeliers. Beneath them, wealthy revelers crowded together, some wearing diamonds and fur coats, celebrating the advent of the new year with a half-drunken chorus of “Auld Lang Syne.”

  Maximo led her past the well-heeled guests to the golden elevators behind the lobby. When they were alone behind the closed doors, he hit the button for the tenth floor.

  Lucy repeated in a low voice, “I don’t even know you. So I don’t understand why you
’ve done this. Kidnapped my daughter. Gotten me fired. Turned my life upside down—”

  He turned to face her. “Don’t you want to be rich, Lucia?” he demanded. “To buy clothes, cars, jewelry? Don’t you wish to spend time with your daughter and buy her everything her heart desires?”

  She stared at him, heart pounding in her chest. “Are you crazy? Of course I do! But strangers don’t just fall out of the sky and offer money. I’m trying to figure out your angle!”

  “No angle. I’m offering a lifetime of wealth and luxury for you and your daughter. And the chance to repay the man who abandoned you both.”

  “But there’s a catch,” she said.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “There’s always a catch.”

  “Perhaps.” He looked at her. “Does it matter?”

  The elevator doors opened, and he strode out. Feeling as if she were Alice who’d just fallen through the looking glass, Lucy followed him down the maroon carpet of the hallway. The wainscoted walls were yellow-gold, illuminated by glistening chandeliers at every corner. He stopped at a door.

  Mrs. Plotzky opened to his knock. Her hair was in curlers and she was wearing a luxurious white robe and cushy hotel slippers. The television was blaring softly behind her in the elegant living room. She beamed at sight of Lucy.

  “Oh my dear! Such a wonderful day! I’m so happy for you. When Prince Maximo’s bodyguards explained he was taking you both to Italy, I—”

  “Where’s Chloe?” Lucy bit out, angry that her babysitter had been so gullible.

  Taken aback, the elderly woman pointed to a door inside the suite. Mrs. Plotzky sat back down on the gold sofa with her knitting while Lucy went to the adjacent door.

  She stood in the doorway of the darkened bedroom, listening to her daughter’s deep, even breathing. When Lucy’s eyes had adjusted, she saw a small lump in the center of the enormous bed surrounded by pillows. Her baby. The light from the doorway scattered across Chloe’s plump cheeks. The baby was clutching her tattered purple hippo to her chest.