Читать книгу The Boss's Bought Mistress - Шэрон Кендрик, Sharon Kendrick - Страница 7

“Wrecked!” screamed the caption beneath the photo of a woman being bundled, glassy eyed into the back of a police car.

“Che cosa cha facenda?” His black eyes glittering, Giovanni threw down the newspaper and turned to his spin doctor. “Let’s hope this is the last of it.”

“You’ve spoken to the police?” asked Lucas.

“Si. The lawyers say charges will be dropped if she goes into rehab,” Giovanni said grimly. “She’s finally accepted that she has a problem. But Madre di Dio — it has taken long enough!”

After years of denial, his fragile step-sister had taken the first, tentative step on the road to recovery. But despite the sunshine that streamed through the windows of his beautiful London house, Giovanni couldn’t shake off his disquiet.

“But what the hell do I do now?” he questioned, his dark features hardening as he anticipated the troubles ahead. “How do I stop the snappers from camping outside the clinic and bribing patients to sell gossip? My sister needs protecting from the sharks who inhabit her world, and God knows there’s nobody else looking out for her.”

“We need to kill the story,” said Lucas, quietly.

“How?”

“We give the press an even bigger one. A diversionary tactic.”

Giovanni narrowed his eyes. “And what could be bigger than this?”

“You are.”

“Explain,” Giovanni said tersely.

“They want a story about your fabulously glamorous family.”

“And fabulously cursed,” echoed Giovanni sardonically. “Don’t forget that.”

Lucas shrugged. “Drugs are big, but you’re one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. Your engagement story would wipe everything else off the front page.”

“Engagement story?” Giovanni sat down and stretched out his long legs as he studied his spin doctor thoughtfully. “What black arts are you concocting now, Lucas?” he murmured.

“An engagement of convenience,” replied the other man smoothly.

In spite of everything, Giovanni gave a short laugh. “Aren’t you forgetting something? There’s no one who fits the bill. In fact, there’s no particular woman in my life.” Relationships bored him — and scared the life out of him. He’d spent his early years avoiding the fallout of partnerships, which always seemed flawed and ultimately doomed….

“Which is what would make it such a good story,” persisted Lucas. “It would be so out of character.”

“I may want to protect my step-sister,” said Giovanni grimly, “but there’s a limit to what I’m prepared to do.”

“No one’s asking you to go through with it,” placated Lucas. “Just join in with the game, that’s all. Buy the ring. Play cat and mouse with the cameras. The press will go wild and by the time they’ve finished chasing you, Miranda will be clean and sober. We can get her discharged somewhere quiet and you can call the whole thing off.”

Giovanni gave a stare that would have intimidated most men. “And who’s going to agree to be my wife?” he questioned sarcastically. “Any bright ideas?”

Lucas smiled. “Oh, come on, Giovanni — you practically have to fight them off!”

Giovanni shrugged. It was true. He could have his pick of any woman he wanted — whenever, wherever and however he wanted. If word went out that he was looking for a bride, then they would be lining up around the block. Women flocked to him like ants to jam — attracted to his good looks and legendary sex-appeal, as well as his massive bank account and starry address-book.

And therein lay the problem.

He flicked Lucas a questioning look. “And when it’s all over? What woman is going to take kindly to being dumped?”

“Not a one…unless you tell her the truth first. Number-one rule of spin — don’t tell lies; just be sparing with the facts.”

“But that would mean trusting them.”

“And there isn’t anyone…?”

Giovanni gave a brittle smile. A woman he could trust? Were there pots of gold at the ends of rainbows? His teenage years had been spent watching avaricious women bleed his father’s fortune dry. And when Giovanni was just sixteen, one of the women had even come to his room late at night — astonished when the rugged youth had turned down her offer of sex.

“No,” he answered shortly. “There isn’t.”

The silence that followed was splintered by a smart, seasoned rap on the door.

Giovanni stretched and yawned. “Yes, come in,” he said, without bothering to turn round.

The woman who pushed the tea trolley into the elegant drawing room was just short of her thirtieth birthday and didn’t really have a job description.

In the days when even the aristocracy had the bare minimum of people working for them, Misty Carmichael had a number of skills at her disposal. She was able to cook, clean and serve food and sometimes she was called on to do all three in rapid succession.

She looked across at her not-quite-Lord, but certainly her master — the arrogant but drop-dead-gorgeous Giovanni Cerruti. In four years of working for him, she had tried not to love him, or to react to him as a woman. It hadn’t been easy and it still wasn’t, but Giovanni had helped by managing to make her feel as if she was invisible.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Please,” said Giovanni absently. “Well, I’ll give your idea some thought,

Lucas.”

But Lucas did not reply. He was watching the woman as she poured coffee — the steam making her pale cheeks grow pink.

Misty offered a plate of tiny macaroons, thinking how strained Giovanni looked. “Would you like a biscuit?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” said Giovanni impatiently. “You know I never eat between meals.”

Irritated, he glanced over at Lucas. Why the hell was he staring at Misty like that? He followed the direction of his spin-doctor’s eyes and for the first time noticed that Misty’s checked working dress was pulling very tightly across her bottom. Two tight globes thrusting against the man-made fiber. It was as though he was seeing her for the very first time and inexplicably, a nerve began to work in his cheek.

Misty glared at them both. What were they staring at? Had her hair suddenly turned green? “Will that be all?”

“Er, yes. Thank you.”

Lucas turned to Giovanni, who was still staring at Misty’s retreating bottom.

“Why not her?” he questioned simply once she had gone.

“Her?” Giovanni flared his haughty nostrils, and laughed. “Are you honestly suggesting I get engaged to one of the staff?”