Lonzo: Book 1 (Tycoon Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Mel was right. Those pictures of you in the magazines didn’t do you any justice! You are much, much more beautiful in person! And you don’t even have any make up on! You caused quite a stir among my nephews. I have to beat their heads with a stick before they went off to my brother Carlo’s place,” the grand lady said in accented English.

Jordana blushed at the compliment. “Ma’am, those pictures came out of great because of good lighting and skillful make up.”

“See, Mama? She’s so down-to-earth. Told you she’s not like those other supermodels,” Mel said.

The
contessa
smiled. She must’ve been a great beauty during her time.

“Are you married, my dear?”

Uh-oh
. Jordana can smell matchmaking from a mile away, so she just smiled and said she had no plans of taking the plunge. Yet.

“Ah! You reminded me of Lonzo. That dear boy is always working, working and working. Have you met him?”

She had met him alright. She could still feel him deep inside her. Heavens, her face must be beet-red by this time, her cheeks and her ears felt tremendously warm.

The
contessa
laughed. “I’m sorry if I am embarrassing you. You see, Lonzo is my son’s oldest friend, his best friend. He’s also like a dear son to me.” The
contessa
’s green eyes were dancing with speculation.

She shivered. She was sure that even if she tried to avoid him later, the
contessa
would still find a way to push them together. It was the usual practice at weddings. Throw the best man and the maid of honor together.

Great.

She’d find an excuse to stay out of his way and fly out of Italy as soon as she was able.

After breakfast, she went back to her room and took a long, hot soak. It was almost noon when she got up from the tub. She still had a few more hours to prepare for the ceremony, which would start at four in the afternoon. Mel said the chapel was within the vast estate so there was no traffic to consider.

She was trying her best to relax, mulling things over before their inevitable meeting.

She surmised it would be best to ignore him and play it cool. Pretend to be an icicle around him. She was good with that. Walking on catwalks for a living did that to a person. She’d zone him out, pretend he never existed.

She won’t cower in the corner as what happened was partly her fault. Time for her to show the steel in her spine.

The small chapel was packed to the seams.
Thankfully the weather cooperated and it was not as humid as the previous week. Or they would all be baking in their wedding finery.

Lonzo stood behind Rocco, who was glancing at his watch. The man had been continuously checking the time since they got here. With the bridal entourage ten minutes late, the groom was getting fidgety with every passing minute.

“Relax, man. Don’t dare faint on me. I’ll kick you in the balls if you do.”

“
Chiudi il becco
!” his friend retorted.

He sniggered, enjoying Rocco’s antsiness, which earned him another dark look.

The slow approach of the Bentley grabbed their attention until it halted in front of the chapel.

“Finally,” Lonzo muttered, his eyes instantly on the lookout for the mystery woman.

Zia Maria was the first to get out of the bridal car, looking very
très chic
in her old rose silk ensemble. She was quickly followed by Andrea, Rocco’s younger sister.

Where the hell is she?

Then she finally came into view, a vision in a champagne-colored, tiered gown, its sheer bodice and strategically placed flowery embroidery enhancing her sensual curves.

The bride came last, wearing a white strapless silk gown studded with crystals and pearls, her face hidden in a long, sheer veil which made her look like a princess.

From his peripheral vision, Rocco broke out into a wide smile, his eyes suspiciously shiny. His bestfriend had evolved into a full-blown wussy.

Everyone in the congregation was looking at the bride.

Save for him.

He was looking at his mystery woman.

She raised her head to survey the crowd and Lonzo’s breath got hitched in his throat as he openly stared at her.

Even in a land where beautiful women were in plentiful supply, she was a knockout. Her striking features—stunning sable eyes, high cheekbones and perfectly-glossed lips stood out even from a distance. Hers was the kind of beauty that inspired erotic poetry and wet dreams.

So achingly beautiful.

He also noted that most of the males had now switched their attention from the bride to her. He knew for a fact that women-watching, next to soccer, was a national past time of Italian males.

Something deep inside him flickered and came to life, something primal. He could almost hear the salacious thoughts of his
paesanos
. How did he know of this?
Because he’s fucking Italian, that’s why!

He wanted to shout to every
cazzo
present to cease checking her out.

Fucking eye rapists!

His gaze followed her as she went on to fix the bride’s veil and train before handing over a bouquet of delicate-looking flowers.

Realization hit him hard in the gut.

The woman was Mel’s maid-of-honor.

Jordana Almueda.

The supermodel.

The one who was getting a lot of attention from the shutterbugs these past recent months. The catwalk queen who proclaimed that she didn’t believe in premarital sex.

Marital…marriage!

The word got him. It echoed inside his head like a freaking rollerball.

Lonzo could feel his anger rising in degrees as he finally realized her ploy.

Sonofabitch!

A honey trap.

He couldn’t believe he fell for the oldest trick in the book. She must’ve known he was financially loaded. So she gave up her cherry to butter him up. Since he was the one who plucked it, she thought he’d pay the bride price for his stupidity. How could he not recognize her last night?

But then, devoid of make-up, she was remarkably different.

What a clusterfuck!

Yet despite his fury, he still wanted her.

He wanted to hear her moans and her screams, feel her soft body give way to his hard thrusts, to bind her to him in the most elemental, carnal way. Fuck her raw until he got her out of his system.

He smiled slowly.

So she thought her cherry was enough to snare him?

He’d teach her a lesson. Oh, yes..he’d definitely teach her something she’d never forget.

Nobody fucked him over and got away with it.

No one.

He sauntered toward her.

Jordana felt his presence the minute
she stepped out of the Bentley. His eyes roamed over her body and burned through her clothes, overheating her skin. It took a tremendous amount of effort to look calm and unaffected. Damn him.

She took time fussing over Mel, delaying the inevitable as much as she could, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

The bridal entourage began lining up. The cute dark haired flower girls and ring bearers were given last minute instructions by their adoring mothers as the bridesmaids partnered with their respective groomsmen.

Every muscle of her body felt taut.

She was the maid-of-honor. Her partner would be the best man.

Lonzo.

“I missed you this morning,” his deep mocking voice made her heart jump.

She turned and looked up to his handsome face and froze. He took advantage, placing her hand over his arm before leading her to where the rest of the bridal party were all lined up.

Instead of replying, she tuned him out. With great difficulty. He wasn’t the type of guy a woman could just dismiss, especially when he was standing so close—enough for her to smell his clean, masculine scent.

Stay focused. You can do this. Like walking on a catwalk. Piece of cake.

“Pretending you don’t know me,
cara
?” His steely voice sliced through the invisible walls she was trying to put up.

He said it with such contempt that she gave up any pretense of ignoring him.

“I have nothing to say to you!” she snapped, trying her best not to raise her voice.

“After pulling a stunt like that? Of course we have a lot to discuss.”

What was his problem? What stunt was he talking about?

“Are you implying that…”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hissed.

“Still planning to continue with the charade? Already saw through your gameplan so let’s cut the chase, shall we?” he replied, his tone sarcastic.

She was shocked. “What?!”

“The price.”

The initial shock was short-lived as cold fury swept through her, making her clench her hands tightly at her sides.

She should take a swing at his arrogant face for insulting her.

She opened her mouth to say something acerbic when she heard the murmur of the crowd. Then the first notes of the wedding march filled the air. The wedding processional was about to start.

With the attention of the attendees on them, Jordana forced herself to smile and contain her growing irritation.

He smiled mockingly at her before he walked back to the altar to stand beside the groom.

She was so mad that she almost faltered when it was her turn to walk. She never could remember another time that she was this angry at someone.

She couldn’t wait to set that hateful man straight and erase that smug look on his face. She cast him a long, withering look when she neared the altar.

He smirked, his green eyes challenging hers as she took her seat.

When the priest started the ceremony to unite their respective best friends in matrimony, battle lines were silently drawn between them.

Because she knew, this thing behind them were just getting started. Those olive eyes of his promised they’d be hell to pay.

For what? An imagined wrongdoing? Who the hell do he think he is?!

So be it. Bring it on.

Chapter Eight

Lonzo was livid.
He spent the past hour waiting to have a moment with her, but to no avail. The woman had a masters degree at evasion.

He had planned on detaining her immediately after the wedding but he underestimated her popular appeal to the rest of the guests.

As soon as the wedding photos were taken, she was mobbed by admirers, most of them males.

She seemed to enjoy their attention, reigning like a queen over her adoring subjects.

She managed to further avoid him on the way to the reception when she accepted a ride from Chris, Rocco’s cousin and one of Real Madrid’s most prized football players.

He could hear her laughter as she climbed inside Chris’ black Aston Martin Vanquish. The football superstar was so captivated and couldn’t take his eyes off her.

When the two of them drove off, Lonzo was tempted to run after them in his sleek, devil-red Ferrari Maranello.

Stop making a spectacle of yourself, Vitale.

But he was beyond caring.

He was so fired up with the planned car chase when Rocco’s relatives got a hold of him and hampered his plans.

Shaking the geezers off were next to impossible. He had to endure talking shop as they waited for their respective drivers to take them to the venue.

By the time he was able to escape them and slid inside his car, thirty minutes had already elapsed.

His mind was racing.

He’d seen Rocco’s cousin in action in the past. Thirty seconds was all it took for some to cave in and grant the footballer’s wishes.

The thought totally pissed him off.

Wait.

Was he actually
jealous
?

No way, Jose.

He never got jealous over a woman. And he won’t start now. Even when he was dirt poor, he never lacked female company. Women were plentiful. He never had to work hard to get their attention.

Then why was he acting deranged?

Because he got conned.

She pretended to be outraged when he got blunt with her earlier. Those amazing cat-like eyes almost made him believe for a full damned minute. But he knew better. He hadn’t grasped the full details of her con yet but he was sure she was after his money. She was the highest-paid model on the planet but Lonzo learned over the years that no amount of money can ever satisfy the heart of a gold digger.

He won’t be some chick’s insurance-cum-retirement plan.