Читать книгу Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella - Sun Chara - Страница 7

One year later…

It had taken Cade Sloan a year to the day to track down his gold-digging ex-spouse. Lil’ Nina McLowsky had conned the con. He slid his powerful length from the limo and dismissed his chauffeur’s attempt to open the door for him with a curt hand. He grimaced. Technically, she wasn’t quite his ex yet, but she’d be soon enough. Right after he collected his dues.

“Meet me here in one hour.” He glanced at the hot pink Fantasy Secrets sign splashed above the boutique’s entrance and curled his lip in a silent snarl.

“Si, Signore Sloan.” The chauffeur tipped his hat, sat back in the driver’s seat, drove past the Fountain of Neptune next to the Palazzo Vecchio, and eased his way toward Via Cassio; the limo appearing out of place amidst the Vespas, a popular mode of transport for the Florentine locals.

Cade turned to bridge the two steps to the storefront, when the door swung open, giving him a view of the shapely backside of a blonde.

A muscle jarred his jaw.

It was her. Even with hair several shades lighter, he’d know her anywhere.

“Mille grazie, Julie for locking up today.” She propped a pair of sunglasses on her crown, whirled around, her shoulder handbag swinging, and smacked into him.

“Steady there,” he muttered, grabbing her shoulders. The connection between them sizzled through his shirt and straight into his chest, but the padlock of ice around his heart made it fizzle to a vapor.

“Oops, mi scusi—” She glanced up and color drained from her face. She swayed on her stiletto heels and his hands tightened over her arms. “You?”

“Me.” The one word shot from his mouth like a bullet in the air between them.

Her coke bottle-thick glasses had disappeared. Her lashes heavy laden with mascara framed her baby blues, now on alert. Her pink-painted mouth unsmiling. He shifted his gaze lower and got a boot in the groin. Her summer dress molded her every curve—the swell of her breasts, the accent of her waist, the roundness of her hips. Her legs were bare, tanned, sexy. He smothered a grunt. Her hair was tied back with a pink ribbon, flowing down her shoulders, and he remembered how silky— No. He didn’t want to go there. Strictly out of bounds.

“We’re closed.” Nina pushed him aside, her golden hoop earrings jangling, and moved one step up to gain the extra height to look him in the eye. At five foot two, every inch counted. What she glimpsed in his golden-brown gaze knocked her back and she seized the doorjamb for support. Her pulse pounded, and she licked her lips.

He zeroed in on her mouth, and his Adam’s apple moved. A long, hot beat, and he shrugged.

“Haven’t come for your…er…services—”

The crack of her hand across his cheek made her palm vibrate, but he barely flinched, except to enclose her wrist between his iron hard fingers.

“I’ve come for you.” He coiled his lip in a near sneer. “To collect a debt owed.”

“We’re history.” She lowered her Roberto Cavalli sunglasses over her eyes and made to go past him.

“Right after you pay up, lil’ darlin’.”

“I owe you nothing.”

He yanked her hard against his chest, swooped down and stole a kiss. “That’s a hint of what you owe, in addition to the million and a half you slipped out with.” Deliberately, he removed her sunglasses and hooked them in the pocket of his shirt.

She went to snatch them back, and he leaned away from her reach.

“Uh, uh.” He clicked his tongue. “Must’ve cost a euro or two, mmm?”

Oh, but he was a horrible man. How could she have imagined she’d felt anything for him but loathing—her eyes strayed to the smattering of hair on his chest visible by his half unbuttoned shirt, and excitement grazed the fury sizzling through her. Must be the shock of seeing him again, she reasoned.

“You were going to double cross me,” she accused, shoving him back. He allowed a small space between them, but still anchored her hand with his.

He arched a thick brow. “Really.”

“I heard you plotting—” her voice broke and she turned away.

“And so you decided to double deal me first.”

Good gosh, he hadn’t even denied it. She blew a stray hair from her eye, batted an eyelash and hoped her contact lens stayed in place. Perspiration glazed her skin and made her mini dress stick to her thighs. Her heart flipped and her stomach flopped. She had to get away from him quickly.

“This is insane.” She spun around and faced him. “You paid me to marry you. I did. Now we’re done.”

“Sure thing, babe, right after you deliver on your promises.” He laughed, a hollow sound that seemed to ricochet off the terracotta roofs of the neighborhood. “Something about to love, honor—”

“I don’t owe you—”

He tilted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. “—and obey.”

She gaped at him in disbelief, and then blinked a rapid tempo. “I upheld my end of the bargain.”

“Hardly.” Cade released her hand, and shoved his in the pocket of his Armani pants, the empty feeling in his gut rankling. “You skipped out on me from the hotel in Ayia Napa before I cracked an eye open in the morning”

She gulped, and he noted the motion. He liked that and, about to cut to the chase, he paused. Her features had a pinched look about them, even though it was August, and in Florence, Italy, that came with a heat wave. He must be having this effect on her. Good. He felt a jab to his conscience, but he ignored the warning.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Now there’s a loaded question.”

Her eyes flashed blue flame. “I’m not going to play your game.” She took a step to walk by him, and he sidestepped her, blocking her path.

“Nor I yours, madam.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I married you and—”

Church bells rang from the campanile of the Duomo in the heart of the city, slightly off cue, but filled the air with a sweet sound.

“And?”

“And nothing,” she murmured.

“Exactly.”

A sigh struggled from deep inside her. “What is it you want, Cade?”

“You.”

She started, and her hand fluttered to her throat. “No.” Shaking her head, she stepped away from him, and that only goaded him more.

“Yes.” He advanced a step closer, and a wayward gust sent her subtle perfume his way. He balled his other hand behind his back and allowed the sensual feel to wash over him. Long ago, he promised himself to never let a woman, any woman get under his skin, and he’d done just fine until Ms. Straitlaced here landed in his life. A mirthless snort sounded from him. “And the loot you pilfered from under my nose.”

Her betrayal had hit a raw nerve…it nicked him more than he realized. He hadn’t tried to analyze why, but she’d done exactly what his mother had done, hadn’t she?

Ditched him.

At first, he had debated whether to write her Nina as a bad business investment and cut his losses, or pursue to recover all. But when an unidentified source hinted his espoused might be connected in some way with his business losses, it had him crunching nails between his molars. He was getting close to nabbing the perpetrator, but first, he had to know the truth about her.

The speed of the marriage had left a prenup in limbo, and she’d used it to her advantage. He pursed his mouth, shaking his head. When she had skipped out with the cash the day after their wedding, she cut him right in the jugular of his company’s financial hemorrhage.

Betrayal.

Even now it was still painful to think about.

“You will return every penny.” Ahh, revenge was sweet. “Plus interest.”

Nobody made a fool of Cade Sloan and got away with it. And certainly not one lil’ Nina McLowsky…Sloan. He’d had to do some quick talking when he hadn’t produced the bride, but the marriage license had given him a grace period to unveil her to the backer. Having just grazed by from the financial cyclone that had nearly whipped him into the dust, he was pumped to get the guy, but first he’d deal with her. Would she inadvertently lead him to the hacker?

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Too bad.” His words were chips of ice.

“I-I-I sunk it all in my business and—”

“Yes?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not an unreasonable man—”

She snorted, but somehow on her it came out sexy. Something that only aggravated him more.

“I suggest you think of an ulterior payment plan then.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide, suspicious. “Or?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “You must’ve heard that this block adjacent to the Piazzale Michelangelo is due for demolition—”

“I was just on my way to the city—” Then, it dawned on her, and she paled. “You’re the one gouging this historic…”

“Condo development, rezoning, modern trends in architecture—”

“All for a buck—”

“Something you like plenty of.”

She glared at him, her lashes fluttering and betraying her inner angst.

“You care nothing about destroying people’s lives, livelihoods, landmarks--”

The Vasari Corridor connecting the Palazzo Medici to the Palazzo Vecchio, the shops on stilts along the Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi & Academia museums boasting Michelangelos, Leonardo Di Vincis and Botticelli’s masterpieces flashed through her mind. “You’re an insensitive boor.”

Her dart zinged his heart, but he toughened his jaw, appearing exactly as she coined him. “If I don’t do it, someone else will.”

“And that makes it alright?

“Right?” he bit out. “You’re talking to me about what’s right and wrong?”

“I won’t let you do it.”

He chuckled. “I don’t see how you’re going to stop me.” A telling pause. “Unless—”

Nina squirmed, feeling like she’d been blasted back a year…back into the clutches of one Cade Sloan, the playboy of Manhattan. Except this was Florence, Italy, her turf; but even with her Italian designer shoes and haute couture armor, he still rattled her.

A sigh shot from deep inside her, and for a moment she got lost in her thoughts. In the year she’d been here, the city had welcomed her and in no time, she felt at home and part of the community. She’d been enchanted by the city and its people, their culture and their history.

The palazzos, basilicas, museums—a smile quivered on her lips—and the famous Florentine Café Giubbe Rossi in the Piazza della Repubblica where she strolled to get her mocha cappuccino, viewing the luxury brands of fashion, footwear, handbags, fragrances of Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Prada, Chanel—all an inspiration to