The Italian Proposal. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
believe that all of this was real. She felt tears sting the backs of her eyes, because she knew this moment would never be real. Not for her.
The people in the restaurant started to clap. Her knees started to buckle. Marco put his arms around her and pulled her up against him, bringing her flush against his hard body, and then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
She stood completely still for a moment, so shocked she couldn’t respond. Then he changed the angle of his head and teased her lips open with his tongue. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck. His lips were soft and firm and she didn’t care that the moment was being caught on film by a hundred cameras. She didn’t care that they were in the middle of the restaurant. The only thing that mattered was this.
It had been so long since she’d been kissed. Years. But she couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out how many. And she’d never been kissed like this.
He ran his fingertips down the length of her spine and she tangled her fingers in his thick black hair. She felt as if she was going to melt into a puddle at his feet. His tongue swept across her bottom lip and she abandoned all her reason to revel in the moment.
She thrust her tongue into his mouth and felt his body jolt. He anchored his hands on her hips. Her breasts felt heavy and an unfamiliar ache started to throb between her thighs.
Then he released her, and she wanted to grab his head and pull him back to her regardless of the fact that they had an audience.
He smiled at her and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I think that looked pretty convincing, don’t you?”
The high she’d felt when his lips had touched hers crashed. It was all for show.
And as the flashes continued to go off, and people continued to clap, she stood with a smile fixed on her face and all she wanted to do was go home, crawl into her bed, and cry.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I CAME OVER so we could discuss the terms and conditions.” Marco swept past Elaine and entered her tiny apartment without waiting for an invite.
“I told you I would have my lawyer contact you.” She didn’t want Marco and his disturbing presence in her apartment. It was her sanctuary, her refuge from the frenetic pace of her life. Bringing him into it seemed wrong somehow. She hadn’t seen him since their faux engagement had gone into effect. Hadn’t seen him since that kiss.
“I assume you’ve had contracts drawn up?” he asked.
She glanced at her briefcase. “Yes.” She’d had them drafted as soon as she’d found the loophole in her father’s contracts.
He smiled sardonically. “It’s necessary that we discuss precisely what each of us expects from this union before anyone signs anything.”
“All right,” she said slowly. She studied the layout of her shoebox apartment. Papers covered most surfaces. It was a very orderly mess; everything was stacked neatly and organized. The kitchen and living area served as her office, and since visitors were rare she usually left everything out rather than sticking it back into neat little folders. “We can work at the coffee table.” She gestured to the low table in the middle of the living room.
She bent and picked up a stack of documents and moved them to the large metal filing cabinet in the corner. When she turned, Marco was leafing through one of the binders she’d left on the table.
He looked up at her, his dark eyes keen. “Your business plan?” She nodded and watched, feeling tense for some reason, as he skimmed the pages. “You have some very good ideas,” he said finally, setting the black book back in its spot.
A flush of pleasure crept through her traitorous body. “Yes. I think I can double the profits inside of two years just by implementing basic technologies. There haven’t been a lot of advances at Chapman’s in the past few years. My father isn’t the most modern of men.”
Marco gave her a wry smile. “So I gathered.”
She rushed on as if he hadn’t said anything, the fire and excitement burning in her now. “I want to set up a website with online ordering. I also think the way the warehouses and call centers are run could be streamlined for greater efficiency and lower operating costs.”
Her heart was beating a little faster, as it always did when she talked about the company. The man sitting on her couch had nothing to do with it.
“Very good.” To his credit he didn’t sound surprised, but still it made her feel defensive.
“Thank you. I’m actually pretty smart, you know.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I graduated from high school two years early, and I was at the top of my class at Harvard.”
“And look at all you have to show for it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that an insult?”
“Only if you’re unhappy with what you have to show for it.” And, judging by his critical expression, he thought she should be.
“Hey! He tells jokes,” she said balefully.
“I’d do a song and dance but…I know where my talents are best served.”
“And, as you know, sticking to what you’re good at is the key to success.”
He nodded, his hard features serious. “That and perseverance.”
She would be shocked if Marco De Luca had ever had to practice much perseverance. He seemed like the kind of man who’d had everything handed to him in life—mostly because she couldn’t imagine that very many people were brave enough to deny him anything. And even if they were brave enough, he was a very charismatic man. He drew people to him. She was sure he was very good at getting what he wanted, using honey or vinegar.
“So, what is it that you hope to get from our arrangement?” Marco asked.
“I want exactly what I said upfront. I want my father’s company. Nothing more or less.”
“You’re an ambitious woman, Elaine. I find it hard to believe that you would be content with just your father’s company when you could try and obtain so much more.”
“Why? You think because I’m a woman that my highest end goal is to just marry some rich guy and spend my days lunching and shopping? I respect myself far too much to have my happiness be determined by a husband or anyone else.”
Her own mother had been pathetic that way. Chasing after men in an attempt to gain the attention of an indifferent husband, searching for some sort of acceptance and validation at the hands of others. Elaine was making her own way, her own success. She certainly wasn’t going to become the kind of simpering female her mother had been.
She’d worked so hard to distance herself from that sort of behavior. Ironic that one small rumor about her and her direct supervisor at Stanley Winthrop had undone every ounce of her work. Marco had been right about reputations: they were difficult to build up but so very easy to tear down.
A snide comment made from a co-worker she’d dated briefly, who’d taken offense at the fact that she hadn’t jumped at the chance to sleep with him, had spread amongst other jealous interns until it had somehow blossomed into its own entity. She’d been sick when it had finally reached her. The story was that she’d been having illicit sex with her very nice, very married boss. And the man who had relayed it to her had gleefully given her all the graphic details that he’d heard.
It had been indescribably painful, knowing that someone she’d cared about, someone she’d kissed, had said such awful things about her, had set out to ruin her because she wouldn’t hop into bed with him. She’d avoided men since then. No dates. And she honestly hadn’t had many before that. Which was why, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin. Which was fine with her. Hormonal awakenings had kind of passed her over. Until recently.
Marco