Brunetti's Secret Son. Майя БлейкЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Romeo’s grip tightened and one finger caught her chin and raised her face to his spear-sharp gaze. Her stomach knotted at the savage determination on his face.
She shook her head, her insides growing colder by the second. “But you can’t guarantee that, can you? Or you wouldn’t be here with six bodyguards in tow.”
“There’s one way to ensure your safety,” he said, his gaze raking her face as if he wanted to pull the answer from her even before he’d asked the question.
“What’s that?” she murmured.
“You will marry me. Then you and our son will know the protection of my name.”
There are some things money can’t buy …
Living life at lightning pace, these magnates are no strangers to stakes at their highest. It seems they’ve got it all … That is until they find out that there’s an unplanned item to add to their list of accomplishments!
Achieved:
1. Successful business empire
2. Beautiful women in their bed
3. An heir to bear their name…?
Though every billionaire needs to leave his legacy in safe hands, discovering a secret heir shakes up his carefully orchestrated plan in more ways than one!
Uncover their secrets in:
Unwrapping the Castelli Secret by Caitlin Crews Brunetti’s Secret Son by Maya Blake
Look out for more stories in
The Secret Heirs of Billionaires series in 2016!
Brunetti’s Secret Son
Maya Blake
MAYA BLAKE’S hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first romance aged thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then, to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does!
Feel free to pinch her too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads! Happy reading!
Contents
Secret Heirs of Billionaires
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
THE HIDEOUS MANSION was just as he’d recalled in his nightmares, the gaudy orange exterior clashing wildly with the massive blue shutters. The only thing that didn’t quite gel with the picture before him was the blaze of the sun glinting off the grotesquely opulent marble statues guarding the entry gates.
Romeo Brunetti’s last memory of this place had been in the chilling rain, his threadbare clothes sticking to his skin as he’d huddled in the bushes outside the gates. A part of him had prayed he wouldn’t be discovered, the other more than a tiny bit hopeful that discovery would mean the end to all the suffering, the hunger, the harrowing pain of rejection that ate his thirteen-year-old body alive from morning to night. Back then he would’ve welcomed the beating his reluctant rescuer had received for daring to return Romeo to this place. Because the beating would have ended in oblivion, and the bitterness coursing through his veins like acid would have been no more.
Unfortunately, the fates had decreed otherwise. He’d hidden in the bushes, cold and near catatonic, until the ever-present hunger had forced him to move.
Romeo stared up at the spears clutched in the hands of the statues, recalling his father’s loud-bellied boast of them being made of solid gold.
The man who’d called him a bastard and a waste of space to his face. Right before he’d instructed his minion to throw him out and make sure he never returned. That he didn’t care whether the spawn of the whore he’d rutted with in an alleyway in Palermo lived or died, as long as he, Agostino Fattore, the head of the ruling crime family, didn’t have to see the boy’s face again.
No...not his father.
The man didn’t deserve that title.
Romeo’s hands tightened on the steering wheel of his Ferrari and he wondered for the thousandth time why he’d bothered to come to this place. Why he’d let a letter he’d shredded in a fit of cold rage seconds after reading it compel him into going back on the oath he’d made to himself over two decades ago. He looked over to the right where the towering outer wall to the late Agostino Fattore’s estate rose into the sky, and sure enough, the bush was exactly as he remembered it, its leafy branches spread out, offering the same false sanctuary.
For a wild moment, Romeo fought the strong urge to lunge out of the car and rip the bush out of the earth with his bare hands, tear every leaf and branch to shreds. Tightening his jaw, he finally lowered his window and punched in the code his memory had cynically retained.
As the gates creaked open, he questioned again why he was doing this. So what if the letter had hinted at something else? What could the man whose rejection had been brutally cold and complete have to offer him in death that he’d failed so abjectly to offer in life?
Because he needed answers.
He needed to know that the blood running through his veins didn’t have an unknown stranglehold over him that would turn his life upside down when he least expected it.
That the two times in his life when he’d lost control to the point of not recognising himself would be the only times he would feel savagely unmoored.
No one but Romeo knew how much he regretted wasting the four years of his life after the bitter