A Shocking Proposal In Sicily (HQR Presents) Read online

  ‘Yes, Father, I do.’ Now her panic changed direction. How could she ever achieve that?

  ‘Very well, I will prepare for a wedding.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘On the day of your twenty-sixth birthday you will be married.’

  ‘But that’s...’ She paused to calculate, her mind too numb to function. ‘October. The beginning of October. Only four months away.’

  He nodded solemnly. She wanted to rail against him, but he’d changed. There was something different about him. Something that tugged mercilessly at her heartstrings. Something that once again hinted that the father she’d loved as a child, the man she wished he could be, lingered beneath his tough exterior.

  But she wasn’t about to let go of the chance he’d given her. ‘And if I haven’t found a husband by then?’ Inside she was a wild rush of panic. She could do this. She had to do this.

  ‘You have until September,’ her father solemnly said. ‘Find a suitable husband by then or marry Nassif on your twenty-sixth birthday.’

  CHAPTER ONE

  Early June

  RAFFAELE CASELLA COULD hardly control his frustration. Even as he’d flown back from Sicily to London, he hadn’t been able to halt the flow of anger. The irritation. His father, alarmingly calm after his cancer diagnosis, had hammered home the stark reality of the situation the family was now in.

  The Casella name could end. And with it the possession of land and wealth which had been handed from one Casella generation to the next. With appalling timing, his twin brother, Enzo, had chosen that very day to admit his marriage to Emma was in jeopardy, after a fertility test had proved he was unable to father children—Casella heirs. His father had panicked, turning immediately to Rafe, putting the duty of providing the next generation squarely on his shoulders. Now he was the only one who could ensure the Casella land and wealth stayed exactly that.

  Rafe had fought to control his anger, his shock, throughout the discussion with his father and Enzo. Reminding himself the old man was ill, holding it all in, thinking instead of the father he’d spent his life trying to please, but failing at every turn. Enzo, the first-born twin, was the son who had always achieved that honour, even when he’d betrayed Rafe in the most heartless way, tearing apart a family already living under the cloud of tragedy.

  The Casella name would end if he, the second-born twin, the spare heir, didn’t marry and have children. The biggest crisis the Casella family had faced for three generations now loomed over them.

  Rafe was in the spotlight, its brightness harsh and unyielding. Inescapable. He was the only one who could save the Casella name, and with it the family fortune. Pressure bore down on him. His future was mapped out, demanding he take a route that involved a marriage he’d never intended to make. Children—or, more precisely, a son to continue the Casella name—something he’d never wanted.

  He had no choice. Either that or stand by and watch their cousin Serafina and her greedy husband, Giovanni Romano, take everything, ending the Casella dynasty.

  Rafe couldn’t allow that. Not when part of that dynasty was the one piece of land which meant more to him than anything else. His mother’s land. The place he and Enzo, along with childhood friend Franco, had once played happily. It was a place full of memories of his mother. Memories he’d treasured since her death when he and Enzo had been only teenagers. For those olive groves alone, Rafe would do anything. Even marry. Even become a father. It was far more than ensuring nobody else, other than a Casella, owned Pietra Bianca. For Rafe it was about keeping his mother’s memory alive.

  The thought of Giovanni at the ancient olive grove slammed into Rafe as he ordered a second whisky. A surge of anger raced through him, almost blocking out the subtle tones of the gentle piano music weaving through the bar of the exclusive London hotel.

  There was no way Giovanni Romano was having anything to do with Pietra Bianca.

  Rafe swigged the fiery liquid back and banged the empty glass down on the bar. During the last heated words he and his brother had shared, Enzo had made it clear that, despite everything that had gone on between them, he expected Rafe to step up. Expected him to save the Casella fortune. Proving his twin was as mercenary, as motivated by wealth, as their father.

  ‘Damn you, Father,’ Rafe muttered as he glared at the offensively empty glass. ‘And damn you, Enzo.’

  Rafe pushed his hands through his hair as he thought of Serafina and Giovanni claiming the Casella fortune. No. That could never happen. Irritation tipped over to anger and Rafe called over the bartender, watching him with narrowed eyes, his thoughts elsewhere, as another glass of whisky was poured.

  Picking up the glass, Rafe raised it to his reflection in the mirrors behind the bar. To his future. Marriage. Fatherhood. The things he’d never wanted, now his only option.

  Rafe looked down into the amber liquid in the crystal tumbler, still questioning the wisdom of marriage. The ice-cold shock which had hit him as his father had made his expectations clear was still frozen inside him, the whisky unable to thaw it.

  His father had always considered Enzo the true heir, expecting his first-born son to marry, produce the new generation and claim it all. Rafe was, as always, merely the back-up plan. An extra card in his hand.

  A card he was now forced to play after Enzo’s marriage was crashing on the rocks so spectacularly. Divorce seemed the only option. Poor Emma. Rafe tried to push the sympathy away. She might have been his first love, but she was now Enzo’s wife. Enzo and Emma’s betrayal had gone far deeper than just killing his love for her.

  Rafe swirled the whisky in the glass, brooding into it as if it held the answers to the nightmare he now lived. He had no wish for marriage. No need for emotional complications. How was he to find himself a wife? And one that would bring the kind of prestigious advantages to the marriage he required and the son the Casella family required? Did he really have such little choice that he had to accept a marriage deal arranged by his father?

  Anger chased the whisky through his body. Was he to parade himself like a stud horse? That stung his male pride as much as being the standby heir.

  ‘Champagne.’ The husky voice of the woman joining him at the bar caught his attention, dragging him from his despair, her accent intriguing him as she made her demand to the bartender. Despite the weight of his problems, he was captivated in a way he hadn’t been for a long time.

  Rafe studied her in the mirrors behind the bar and, despite the rows of optics, saw the woman was as attractive as her voice. There was an air of sophistication about her. She radiated confidence, drew him ever closer. Making him want more than a curious glance in the mirror. Making him want to get to know her. Effectively sealing his fate.

  Attraction surged through him and he reluctantly admitted he’d go as far as to say she was the sexiest woman he’d seen in a long time. She was tall and slender, wearing a tight-fitting pale gold silk blouse, sleeves folded up past her elbows and open low at the front. Her dark shoulder-length hair was pulled back away from her face, accentuating her vivid brown eyes, her brown eye make-up making them appear as black as coal. Her full lips were pressed together into a sulky but sexy pout.

  She was utterly gorgeous.

  Watching her shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. A lick of hot lust, reminding him just how long it had been since he’d lost himself in the oblivion of a beautiful woman, fired through him. It would also be something he’d never be able to do again once he married. His marriage might not be for love, or any kind of sentiment, but his morals wouldn’t allow for such betrayal as infidelity.

  He knew how that felt. All too well.

  Rafe nodded to the bartender, who swiftly brought over two glasses and a bottle of champagne, placing them on the bar between him and the woman. With a quick glance at the label, Rafe satisfied himself his usual standards had been catered for with nothing but the best and move
d closer to the sexy woman.

  ‘I don’t recall inviting you to join me.’ She turned, leaning one slender arm on the bar, cutting off any polite introductions he could have made as she glared up at him. That lick of lust just became a savage kick.

  He conjured up an image of the kind of woman his father might suggest as a suitable wife and knew she’d never be a match to this sassy, sophisticated woman before him. He took in the brunette’s long bronzed legs, the tight-fitting skirt skimming above her knees and the sexy gold sandals on delicate feet with red painted nails.

  This woman oozed confidence. She was strong. Independent. And, with a body like that, she would fill his nights with hot pleasure. There was no way a woman like her would agree to a marriage purely for convenience.

  This was a woman who undoubtedly played as hard as she worked. Exactly the kind of woman he was drawn to. He knew instinctively this woman would match him in every way.

  ‘I think you will find it is you who is being invited to join me,’ he taunted. Sparks of sexy annoyance shot out at him from her eyes, sending that savage lust roaring straight to his groin. He clenched his jaw against the kind of need he hadn’t felt for a long time. The kind of need that right now would chase away the shock of all he’d discovered. All he must do.

  ‘And how do you come to that conclusion? You were very clearly drinking whisky when I arrived,’ she goaded him, leaning her head to one side, her diamond earrings sparkling and winking at him.

  He smiled. She’d noticed. Noticed him. ‘That is true.’

  ‘I was the one who ordered champagne.’ Her accent deepened. He’d never met a woman like this. For the last six years he’d consciously avoided complicating his life with female company. He’d used the alternative energy business he’d worked hard to set up, instead of joining his father and Enzo in the family business, to keep him from his homeland. Sicily held too many bad memories. The kind that wrote over any good times. Here in London, or at his other base in New York, he didn’t have to remember.

  He didn’t have to face the past. It didn’t have to shape who he was.

  Then all that had changed with his father’s illness. He’d been forced to return to Sicily. Forced back into his brother’s life. The twin who’d destroyed Rafe’s planned future as though it was nothing more than paper. The only two women he’d got close to had been lost. His mother and then Emma. Damn it, he’d lost Emma to his own brother. And now the final insult was that Rafe had no choice but to step up to the mark and do his duty, to help his father and his brother keep the Casella fortune.

  Rafe pushed his troubles aside. This wasn’t the time for them. Not when this woman was exactly what he needed right now. A distraction he wanted to lose himself in—completely.

  ‘You didn’t order champagne. You demanded it.’ The stunned look on her face at being reprimanded made him smile. This was going to be a very entertaining evening. Precisely what he needed.

  Tonight, he wanted to lose himself. Completely and with this woman. From the way she was looking at him, eyes swirling with desire as much as annoyance, he knew it was only a matter of time until he did just that. A sizzling sexual attraction drew them inexplicably to one another and he had no intention of severing it. Instead, he would meet it head-on.

  ‘I did no such thing.’

  ‘I didn’t hear a please,’ he taunted her, watching the gold flecks in her dark brown eyes shine brighter with fury. ‘And I am yet to hear a thank you.’

  Beneath her dark complexion he noticed she had the good grace to blush. She sighed, her breasts rising with the deep breath in, snagging his attention, ratcheting up his lust, tightening the binds of attraction.

  Silence fell between them as the bartender poured two glasses of champagne, placing the bottle back in the cooler, before attending to other guests. She took hers and, still without a word of thanks, turned her attention away from him.

  ‘Sorry. It’s been a bad day,’ she said quickly. ‘A bad week. Two weeks, in fact.’

  He watched her once more in the mirror as she sipped her drink, before putting the glass on the bar and tracing one long slender finger around the rim absently. Her thoughts far away from him. From this bar.

  ‘That’s both of us then.’

  Her gaze met his in the mirror. They remained like that, gazes locked, drawing them together, keeping them linked. It was powerful. Hard to resist. But he had no intention of doing that. This beauty who’d exploded into his world was exactly the antidote he needed after this morning’s meeting with his father.

  ‘It might have just got a little better.’ She tilted her head on one side, still watching him in the mirror. Again, the sparkle of diamonds hanging from her ears caught his attention as she openly flirted with him. Teased him.

  Champagne. Diamonds. Who was this enigma of a woman who’d gate-crashed his private moment?

  ‘Shall we agree to dismiss today? To live for now? This moment and nothing else?’ He spoke to her reflection, not sure where his questions had come from.

  He was the last person who would condone shirking duty for personal needs. But this woman’s demeanour, her confident sexiness and charm, sparkling brighter than her diamonds, must be affecting him more than he knew.

  She picked up her glass, raising it up to his reflection in the mirrors, her gaze intently holding his. In that hypnotic way a woman could seduce a man with just one look, he knew he was lost.

  Tonight, he was hers.

  * * *

  ‘I will drink to that,’ Kaliana said as she tried once again not to notice how incredibly sexy she found this man. Her friend and flatmate, Claire, had told her she needed to let go of the past. Get out there and have fun. Be the woman she really wanted to be.

  So she’d thrown caution to the wind and headed out to do just that, planning to meet up with her friends as soon as they all finished work. But she’d never expected this. Not just the man himself, but an undeniable need to be with a man she didn’t even know. And in a way she’d never experienced.

  He was just the distraction she needed after today’s call from her father, reminding her that two weeks had passed since she’d agreed to find a man wealthy enough to save her kingdom. And save herself from a marriage to a brutal bully.

  Maybe Claire was right. Maybe she needed to find herself before she could find a husband. Had fate brought her this man for that exact reason? She focused on the stranger. His white shirt was open at the neck and, if she was brave enough to look lower, more than hinted at his bronzed and well-defined chest, dusted with dark hair.

  That same call of hungry need which had first zipped through her when she’d looked at his handsome face, into his intensely black eyes, unfurled once more. It wasn’t like her at all. She’d always avoided men like him. Dangerously sexy men. Men who could make her want the impossible. Men who could make her forget. Because she didn’t want to forget Alif and their innocent young love.

  But tonight she needed this. She had no intention of avoiding anything or anyone. She wanted to take whatever the evening offered. When she’d seen the handsome stranger, glaring into his drink, she’d known with an unnerving certainty that he was what she wanted. What she needed.

  Tonight, she wanted to be a different woman. She wanted a distraction. She needed the rebellion against the hand fate had dealt her. That need burned brighter than ever. Pushing her on. Making her want to taste what could have been.

  You want him. A voice echoed in her mind, chanting and triumphant. The little miss prim and proper virgin she’d always been wanted this sex god of a man. And why shouldn’t she have some fun? Rebellion rippled through her again, stronger than ever. Nobody would ever know if she had a little bit of fun. Indulged in a bit of flirting. Not here in London. Not so far away from Ardu Safra. In London she was simply Kaliana. Nobody knew her here and she could hide from her weighty royal title.

  Excite
ment zipped through her. Maybe it was time to taste even more than that. Maybe it was time to finally let go of the past, of who she’d been, and discover what physically being with a man was like. But not just any man. This man.

  She looked up into the stranger’s face to see a slow sexy smile spread across his lips. Heat infused her cheeks. She knew he couldn’t possibly read her mind, but she wondered if he had. If he knew just how much she wanted him.

  He picked up his glass and raised it to her. ‘A toast. To this moment.’

  Her tongue slicked over suddenly parched lips, her breath seeming harder to come by. Less natural. Her heart thumped. Her body heated. She liked the way he made her feel. Liked the sensation of freedom and power this surge of sexual chemistry between them gave her. Freedom she might never know again if she did her duty by her family and made a marriage to financially save the kingdom of Ardu Safra.

  The thought of the man she’d be forced to marry if she didn’t make a deal with a man of her choice almost squashed her bravado. No, she inwardly berated herself. She wouldn’t think of Nassif now or of how her life would be if they married. All she wanted to think about was this moment. This man.

  ‘To the moment,’ she said boldly, hoping she didn’t sound as gauche and inexperienced as she really was.

  She’d never chatted up a man like this before. Never given out such a clear message of wanting far more than idle chat to any man other than the man she’d once been engaged to. Yet here she was. Alone. In a bar. With a sinfully sexy man. Not wanting the moment to end.

  She sipped her champagne. All the while his inky black eyes watched her, his brow slightly furrowed. His stubble-covered jaw was stern and set. He looked powerful. Commanding. And sexy.

  He called to her on a level she’d never known existed. Made her want the impossible. Made her want to be someone else—for tonight at least. Something no other man had made her feel since Alif’s death.

  ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he said, his gravelly voice sending spirals of heat through her, nudging at the need, the attraction he raised. Demanding the kind of satisfaction she knew instinctively only he could give her.