Seducing the Secret Heiress (17 page)

‘Merda.'
His aunt and uncle's life revolved around their boutique Lake Como hotel. Childless, they focused all their attention on him and nothing he did pleased them. ‘So they definitely won't sell to me?'

‘Actually, there's been a development.'

Brad's tone worried him. ‘What is it?' Antonio heard the measured breath. He gripped the phone tighter.

‘They're going to donate Villa Paradiso to Fondo Ambiente.'

The Italian National Trust! A small explosion seemed to detonate in Antonio's brain. Red flashed before his eyes. If the phone hadn't been made of steel, he'd have crushed it.

‘They can't . . .' He didn't trust his voice. He forced himself back to calm and controlled. ‘Brad, this is your job. Get down there and negotiate a deal.'

‘They've already had one meeting with the local heritage officer.'

Neither man spoke. The silence lengthened between them. Brad's negotiating ability was legendary. If he thought there was no hope . . .

‘Listen,' Brad started.

Antonio's eyes narrowed. He knew he didn't want to hear what was coming.

‘I know you've made it clear you won't be part of these negotiations, but they are your aunt and uncle,' Brad said. ‘Couldn't you go up there —'

‘No!' Antonio didn't mean to raise his voice. The memories of what he'd had and what he'd lost at Villa Paradiso overwhelmed him. He couldn't go back. Neither could he let his aunt and uncle give away the hotel that meant so much to him. It should be his.

It
must
be his.

‘Then it's a lost cause,' Brad said. ‘That is, of course, unless you can convince them that you're not the hedonistic philanderer they think you are.'

Antonio banged his open palm against a pillar. Damn them. His relatives lived in the dark ages. Hotels weren't run as little family businesses any more. Success lay in economies of scale across multimarkets. He'd built the best boutique hotel business in the world, one that attracted the rich and famous, but his so-called fast lifestyle wiped any of his achievements from his relatives' minds. He'd made the Moretti name famous, not brought it into disrepute.

‘Use that huge brain of yours and come up with a plan,' Antonio pushed. ‘There has to be a way to convince them.'

‘Unless you can find a nice Italian girl who happens to know everything there is to know about running a family hotel and marry her, then you'll have to forget it.'

Antonio smiled as an idea took shape in his mind. He turned slowly and looked back towards Sienna's office. Italian heritage. Hotelier. Single?

‘Brad, you're a genius,' he said, striding across the floor.

‘What are you talking about?'

Antonio laughed at the concern in Brad's voice. ‘I'll talk to you later.'

‘Wait.' Brad's voice ratcheted up a notch. ‘Don't do anything —'

Antonio snapped the phone shut. He halted and stared at Sienna, who still had her head down, engrossed. She pulled repeatedly on a strand of her hair. Even stressed, she radiated classic Italian beauty. Nothing about her looked flashy or showy. His aunt and uncle would love her.
This might work.

He strode back into her office, not bothering to knock. She leapt from her chair, clearly ready to let him have it.

‘Sienna,' he said, cutting her off before she could speak. ‘I have a proposition for you.'

A proposition?

The words of fury died on Sienna's lips.
What did he want now?

‘You have everything,' she said, grabbing the legal papers from her desk and brandishing them in his direction. ‘What else do you want? The clothes off my back?'

As soon as she'd uttered the words, she regretted them.

Antonio's eyes travelled down her body. A warm tingle engulfed her. She swallowed hard. If this were a tactic designed to unsettle her, it was working.

‘No, that won't be necessary.' He sat and leant back in the chair, waiting.

Antonio held a reputation as a notorious seducer. She needed to keep her head. Stay in control. She sat on the edge of her chair.

‘What's your marital status?' he asked.

Sienna felt her face flush and her mouth drop open. So much for control. Did this man know no bounds?

‘The terms of this document might be watertight,' she said grimly, ‘but I don't remember my personal life being part of it.'

A smile played about his lips.

That's it. Meeting adjourned.
She stood up and folded her arms across her chest. ‘It's time you left.' She bristled at her own words. It felt awful to be so rude, but this man asked for it.

Antonio sat quite still for a moment. ‘Sit down, Sienna.' All traces of amusement had vanished. ‘If you want an extension on that loan, I suggest you hear me out.'

Her heart rate kicked up a notch. An extension? A tiny sliver of hope touched her heart. She sat.

‘So?' she said, trying to disguise the desperation in her voice.

‘Are you married?' He leant forward, his black eyes intense. ‘In a relationship?'

She frowned. Could these questions be more inappropriate? Perhaps if she answered he'd get to the point. ‘No.'

No boyfriends. Not even a sniff of romance in her life since her mother's death. Sure, friends had been kind. Even her male friends stayed around and provided a shoulder to cry on. But over time, everyone drifted away. What did she expect? Friendship was a two-way street. Who wanted to be friends, let alone be romantic, with a workaholic, grief-ravaged girl – in bed by nine and up again for the morning shift at four. If she didn't save the hotel, her father's already broken heart would surely stop.

‘Perfect,' Antonio announced. ‘In my assessment, your situation is hopeless, yes?'

The statement didn't need an answer. Leaning back in her chair, she matched his body language. Arms crossed. Head tilted.

‘And I suspect,' he continued, ‘you'd do almost anything to keep the Plaza, correct?'

She straightened in her chair.
Where was this going?

‘Yes,' she said carefully.

He leant forward, put his elbows on the desk and rested his chin down in his hands. ‘Do you have what it takes?'

Enough!

Standing with all the dignity she could muster, she walked stiffly around her desk and stood over him. She hoped her heels afforded her enough height to present some intimidating effect.

‘If there's some way I can keep the hotel, I'm all ears, but otherwise, please leave.' She pointed to the door.

Antonio rose slowly. At full height he stood at least a head taller than her. He stood so close she could feel the energy between them – the force so powerful she steeled herself not to quake under its intensity. The tang of citrus aftershave overwhelmed her, mingled with the bouquet of freshly showered man. She battled to remember why she was there. She stepped back, blinking.

‘I know my questions are a little unusual,' he said. ‘I'm trying to ascertain if my proposal will be successful.'

Sienna stared at him. ‘This hotel has been in my family for over one hundred years and I'd do anything to save it.' His proximity forced her back another half step.

He drew closer.
Too close
.

‘Anything?' His voice was low and dangerous.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled into her palms.
He will not intimidate me.

‘Anything,' she said emphatically. This time she willed her feet to hold their ground.

‘Then marry me.'

The room blurred. She reached out for the desk but missed and stumbled. A strong hand gripped her arm, holding her steady. ‘Marry you?' she managed. She'd pegged him as ruthless, not crazy.

His face told a different story – sombre and serious.

The room came back into focus and her senses with it. She pulled free from his hold. Shakily, she walked to the window and stared out. He couldn't be serious.
This man's playing a Machiavellian game and I don't know the rules.

She clasped her hands tightly together. Her lip quivered and she bit down hard.

‘I don't appreciate this,' she said, her voice only a whisper. She closed her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she sensed him moving towards her. His scent, light in the air, surrounded her, confusing her. Her pulse leapt as he laid his hand on her shoulder and turned her gently toward him.

‘I should have explained my situation first,' he said.

Her gaze flew to his face. He had a situation? Men like Antonio don't have situations, and if they did, they had people to deal with them.

‘Before I start, I must ask that what I tell you stays absolutely confidential.'

That Antonio, international businessman extraordinaire, considered taking her into his confidence rendered her at a complete loss.

‘Of course,' she said sincerely. ‘You have my word.'

He didn't look convinced. She'd given her word. She couldn't give him any more. She turned to walk away.

He grabbed her hand. Her eyes flashed to his in time to see a stab of pain before the ‘I own the world' air snapped back. She knew she should hate this man and everything he stood for, but at that moment, sympathy touched her heart.

He let her hand drop and stepped to the window. The seconds ticked by.

‘There's a hotel in Italy on Lake Como,' he said slowly. ‘It's a magnificent building slowly falling into disrepair.' He glanced around the room. She knew what he meant:
Like this place
.

‘With the right investment in restoration and technology, this hotel could be the jewel in my Italian chain. Unfortunately —'

‘The owners won't sell to you?'

He cocked his head. ‘Correct.'

‘Why?'

‘The owners are old-fashioned. They don't . . .' He hesitated and frowned. ‘They don't believe I'd run it with the same family values.'

‘You wouldn't, would you? Just like you're planning with this place. You'll strip it of its heritage, replace all the staff and by the time you're finished —'

‘My strategy has worked successfully all over the world.'

‘Can't you see . . .' She stopped talking. What was the point? Of course he wouldn't understand. Hotels were his business, not his life. ‘So you think if you turn up married, they'll sell it to you.'

‘Precisely.'

‘It won't work.'

‘Why?'

‘Because no one's going to believe that the famous Antonio Moretti has married some small-time hotelier from Melbourne.' She laughed. ‘Certainly not one who isn't the least bit glamorous and who's totally broke.'

‘You're very beautiful, Sienna,' he said. ‘Anyway, people believe what I want them to believe.'

She blinked. Had Antonio Moretti called her beautiful? Or was it only a word meant to distract and flatter her? What else had he said? Fortunately he didn't seem to notice she'd lost track of the conversation.

‘My intention is to save this hotel in Italy,' he said. ‘I need the owners to know I am not the wastrel they think I am.'

‘You plan to lie to get what you want.'

The expression on his face made her wish she'd kept her mouth shut.

‘The hotel owners have drawn incorrect conclusions as to the sort of person I am.' He struggled to keep his voice steady. ‘Marriage will facilitate a sale that will make the owners very rich and save an important part of Italy's heritage. Sometimes in business the end justifies the means. This is one such example.'

‘Let me get this straight: you're prepared to marry a complete stranger simply to get your hands on a hotel.' Her eyes narrowed. ‘You own dozens of hotels; why is this one so special?'

‘It's not,' he said, a little too quickly. He took a deep breath. ‘It's important for my country's heritage that this hotel is preserved. Politicians, movie stars, VIPs from all over the world have stayed there. The photographs in the lobby alone are worth a small fortune.'

‘So, this is purely an altruistic enterprise?' She hoped he noted the sarcasm in her voice. ‘What's the real reason?'

He didn't answer immediately. Instead he stared out at the grey Melbourne weather. His fingers brushed briefly across his scar.

‘That
is
the real reason.' He paused. ‘And I suppose it has some sentimental value. I spent all my summer holidays there as a child.'

Sienna considered him closely. This last admission had been difficult for him. It almost made him seem . . . human. The image of the beach shack her family owned in Portsea filled her mind. Running a hotel, her family didn't have much time off, but each year, after the summer madness, her parents would take her out of school for two weeks at the beach.

Her teeth grazed her lips. Those times represented absolute happiness, now forever gone. She blinked hard. Okay, she got it.

But marriage?

‘Why don't you simply offer more money?' she asked.

‘I've already offered them twice the value of the place,' he said, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘It's me they have a problem with.'

‘And you think a fake marriage will change that?' She thought about the front page of today's paper. The shot of Antonio and Amy would surely have made the Italian press. The world followed Antonio's every move as though he were royalty.

‘It won't appear fake,' he said.

She walked to her desk and pulled the newspaper from her out-tray. Opening it to the front page, she held it up for him to see. ‘No one's going to believe you're married to me.'

She turned the paper round and stared at the picture on the front page. Dating the glamorous Amy West one week and married to a ‘nobody' the next . . .
I don't think so
.