Married For His Secret Heir. Jennifer FayeЧитать онлайн книгу.

       PROLOGUE

      Paris, France

      IT SHOULD HAVE been the most amazing night of her life.

      Elena Ricci swept her long blond tresses over her shoulder as she stepped backstage at the Paris fashion show that had just concluded. She should be on cloud nine, but instead worries brought her feet back down to earth. With a borrowed diamond necklace and matching earrings now returned to the jeweler and her crystal-embellished gown returned to the designer, she was ready to call it a night.

      “Are you heading straight to the party?” a female voice called out behind her.

      Elena turned to find a young woman smiling at her. Try as she might, Elena couldn’t put a name to the face. “No. I’m going to pass on it.”

      “But you have to go,” the beautiful young woman with flowing black hair said. “As the face of the line, you’re like the guest of honor. Tonight is your night.”

      “I’m sure you’ll all have fun without me. I’m just not up for a party.”

      “Ah, I bet you have other plans.” The young woman flashed her an I-know-what-you’re-up-to smile. “I’m sure he’ll be worth it.”

      He? There was no he. The last guy she’d had the misfortune of dating had been a liar and a cheat. Elena had sworn off men after that debacle. Who needed the hassle?

      “There is no guy,” Elena clarified.

      “Really? Then who’s the man waiting for you at your station?”

      Elena didn’t bother answering. She just started walking. If it was Steven, she was having security escort him out. She’d told him in no uncertain terms to get out of her life. And she’d meant it.

      When she neared her station, the man had his back to her. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

      The man turned. “Is that the way you greet all your friends?”

      Heat rushed to Elena’s face. Before her stood the Earl of Halencia, Luca DiSalvo, her childhood friend. “I’m sorry. I, uh, thought you were someone else.”

      “I think I feel bad for the other guy.”

      “Don’t. He doesn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.” She rushed forward and gave Luca a hug, finding comfort in his strong arms. And there was something else—a warm sensation that set her stomach aflutter. But she refused to examine the reason for her elated reaction.

      The truth of the matter was, she’d grown used to shoving aside her emotions when it came to Luca. Their friendship meant the world to her, and she wouldn’t do anything to risk it—even if it meant they would never be more than friends.

      He pulled back and smiled. “That’s better.”

      She looked deep into his tired eyes. There was something bothering him. This wasn’t just a casual visit. Luca didn’t do those. For him to come here unannounced, it meant something had happened—something big.

      “What is it?” she asked. “Is it your father?”

      Luca shook his head. “It’s my mother.”

      “Your mother?”

      Luca drew in a deep breath. “They caught her murderer. Actually, my sister did. Can you believe it? After all these years, it’s finally over.”

      Elena wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, she was relieved they’d solved the crime, but she also knew how tough the years following the heinous crime had been on Luca and his estranged family. She couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling at this point.

      After the murder, Luca had withdrawn from everyone around him—including her. When he’d finished high school, he’d moved away. Soon after, she’d done the same and moved to Paris. Their friendship dwindled to an occasional phone call or an annual visit over coffee at a small café when Luca was in Paris on business.

      Over the years, she’d told herself not to take the distance personally. It was Luca’s way of dealing with the unimaginable grief. But she couldn’t deny that losing the close connection with her best friend had hurt—a lot.

      A million questions bubbled up within her. And yet she remained quiet as he gave her the highlights of how Annabelle had caught the murderer. The story was truly stunning.

      “Annabelle just phoned me.” His gaze didn’t quite reach Elena’s. “And I just needed to tell you.” He paused as though considering his words. “I guess if I’d been thinking straight, I should have realized your mother would tell you.”

      Elena reached out and briefly squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re the one who told me.”

      “You are?”

      She nodded. “I’m so sorry this happened to you and your family. I hope the murderer’s capture will help in some small way.”

      “Me, too.”

      There was something different about him. Instead of the usual cool aloofness that he wore like armor, he was uneasy, and there was a glimmer of vulnerability in his blue-gray eyes. Had he come here for yet another reason?

      Refusing to let herself imagine that Luca was ready to become a part of her life again, she busied herself. She bent over and slipped on a pair of bright white tennis shoes with pink laces. Now that her makeup had been wiped away and the glittery, gauzy creations had been returned to the clothes rack, she felt like herself. Plain old Elena.

      When she straightened, she found Luca staring at her. Her heart thump-thumped. She swallowed hard. “What is it?”

      “Nothing. I was just looking at you.”

      Worried that she’d missed removing some of the sparkly blue eye makeup they used to make her up as a fairy for the new magical fashion line, Elena turned to the mirror. She didn’t see anything but her own complexion. Her cheeks were a little rosy from the cleanser, but it was all her in the reflection. So why had Luca been looking at her so strangely? She shrugged it off.

      “Can I persuade you to stay long enough to eat?” She hadn’t eaten a bite all day. She’d been a nervous wreck about the show, and now that it was over, she was ravenous. “Or we could get one of your favorite pizzas from Pierre’s and take it back to my flat.”

      “Your flat?” Luca shook his head. “Not going to happen. I hear you have some exciting news.” He moved to the end of her makeup table and retrieved a champagne bottle. “We have to celebrate. It’s nonnegotiable.”

      She wasn’t sure either of them was up for celebrating. Before she could vocalize her protest, Luca popped the cork and Elena watched as pink bubbles rushed down the side of the bottle. Luca reached for a champagne flute and filled it up.

      “For you.” He held the glass out to her.

      She accepted it. Luca was certainly acting out of character. Her gaze lowered to the glass as the pink bubbles rose and popped. If Luca and the designer of the line Elena now represented only knew of the mess she’d made of her private life, they wouldn’t help her celebrate being chosen as the new face of the Lauren Renard line.

      Elena felt like a fraud. They all thought she was so good—so deserving. But she was none of those things. Her judgment was way off where men were concerned. She’d been too trusting—too open—and in the end, she’d been lied to in the worst way. Now she didn’t trust herself or men.

      “Elena?”

      She