Once A Playboy...: Resisting the Sicilian Playboy / Her Playboy's Proposal / The Playboy's Proposal

‘The castello is a beautiful piece of history. It’s such a shame that it lies dormant most of the time.’

‘Why do I get the feeling this is more than idle chit-chat?’ He narrowed his gaze, all trace of flirtation gone.

‘Well, you see, it’s part of the reason that I’m here.’ Feeling a sense of foreboding, she powered on. ‘I’m here to propose a deal for Castello Bellamo that I feel you will benefit greatly from.’

She blurted it out as confidently as she could and felt the swell of victory as he froze in place. The playful charmer seemed to disappear before her eyes, his expression taking on a detached hardness.

He met her eyes, a single muscle ticking on his jaw. When he spoke his voice was somehow deeper than before, his accent more pronounced. ‘Well, it seems you have wasted both your time and mine tonight. I’ll tell you the same thing that I have told every other vulture that has approached me since my father’s death. The castle is not for sale.’

Dara shook her head, desperate for him to understand. ‘I don’t want to buy it—I want to hold a wedding there. I’m sure that we can come to some sort of—’

A flick of his hand cut her off mid-sentence. ‘I don’t care if you want to use it to house blind orphans. The matter is not open for discussion.’

‘I understand that the castello has been left in disrepair for some time now—’

‘It can stay that way, for all I care. Contrary to what people may think, these little games don’t work for me—no matter how pretty the messenger is.’ His eyes raked down to her heels, taking in every inch of her body with an exaggerated slowness before meeting her eyes once more.

‘This conversation is over,’ he gritted. ‘I’ll have someone sent up to escort you out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a party to attend to.’

Without another word he strode from the room, leaving Dara to stare after him in disbelief.

That had been a rather dramatic turn of events. She knew his father had died recently, and it had been tactless of her to use it as part of her argument. But what other choice did she have? The most lucrative wedding contract of her career was within touching distance and she had personally promised the bride Castello Bellamo. If she failed to deliver she could say goodbye to her miraculous gateway into society weddings. Her name would be worthless.

She was not going to be ruined without a fight.

* * *

Leo slid in behind the bar of the empty upper mezzanine of the club and waved off the young barmaid with an impatient hand. Taking down a bottle of aged whisky, he poured himself a generous glass and let the amber liquid burn down his throat in one fluid movement.

Blondie had caught him by surprise—there was no doubting that. Beautiful women were not a rarity in his world—supermodels and socialites lined up to be seen on his arm—but there had been something about that determined grey gaze that had sparked his interest in a way no woman had for months now.

No one had dared speak to him of his father since his death had been worldwide news. But to start with that and then make a move for the castle... He took another swig of whisky, a harsh bark of laughter escaping his throat. She definitely had nerve—he’d give her that.

As his temper slowly calmed he realised he was no longer alone in the private bar. Miss Devlin had come to a stop on the other side of the counter.

‘Just so we’re clear: I am not a messenger and I don’t play games. Ever.’

She was angry, and it was a sight to behold.

‘Never? You keep shattering my fantasies tonight, Miss Devlin.’ Leo took in the crisp white shirt she wore, the outline of a lacy white bra barely visible at the front. His knuckles tensed on the glass in his hand as heat rushed through his veins. Damn, it had been way too long if the sight of a bra was arousing him.

‘Do you take anything seriously, Mr Valente?’

She rolled her eyes, checking the time on her watch in a gesture of boredom. But Leo could see the hint of a flush high on her cheekbones. She wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended to be.

He stepped forward, bracing his hands on the bar between them. ‘Believe me, there are certain things I can take very seriously.’ He let his eyes linger on her lips for a moment and smiled when she self-consciously took a step back. ‘Look around you, Miss Devlin. I opened this club ten years ago. I now own one in every major city in the world, so you can see that I take the business of pleasure very seriously.’

‘I’m here to talk about my proposal—not about pleasure.’ She shook her head.

‘A pity. I can tell that we would communicate very well on that subject.’ He watched as heat flushed across her chest.

She laid her bag down forcefully on the counter. ‘Are you always this forward?’ Her voice was somehow calm and furious at the same time.

Damn it, but she was right. He was behaving like a caveman. What was it about this woman that set his teeth on edge? She was prickly, and direct, and sexy as hell. But she was here to talk about the one thing he was determined to ignore.

‘You seem to have caught me off guard. Having an unarmed woman bypass a million-euro security system will do that to a man.’

‘If I were a man would you be any less impressed, I wonder?’ She stood tall, meeting his gaze evenly.

Leo laughed, offering her a glass of whisky. ‘You are refreshing, Dara. Consider this a peace offering for my inappropriate behaviour.’

‘Thank you.’

She took the glass with both hands, holding it close to breathe in the aroma. It was a ridiculously feminine gesture.

Leo watched her for a moment, downing the rest of his drink in one go. ‘You know, considering your position, I wonder how I have come to be the one apologising.’

‘I can be very persuasive.’ She smiled and took a sip of whisky, making a delicate little hum of approval.

Leo felt his blood pump a little faster. ‘Something we both have in common.’

He stepped out from behind the bar, taking in her polite business suit once more. She was a walking contradiction, this one. All delicate and businesslike on the outside, but with the guts to scale a building in a skirt and heels. He wondered why he hadn’t thrown her out yet.

She placed her glass down, turning to face him head-on with calm determination in the set of her shoulders. ‘I will be leaving for Sicily in the morning. I’m asking you please to just consider my proposal.’

‘You just broke the law and you expect me to do business with you?’

‘I am asking you to at least give me a chance.’ Her voice remained steady, with not a trace of remorse for tonight’s actions.

‘Do you honestly expect me to let you use a seven-hundred-year-old castle for a glorified circus?’

‘Firstly, it’s a wedding. Secondly, from what I understand the castle has been mostly unoccupied for years. Many jobs were lost when your father closed it to the public. We both know that poverty is already an issue in Sicily.’

‘I think you overestimate my ability to empathise.’ He had heard the same argument before countless times.

‘Maybe so, but a high-profile wedding like this would bring a lot of opportunity to a struggling town like Monterocca.’

Leo felt the skin behind his neck prickle at her mention of the name. There was no reason for him to feel anything for that place. The people of his home town meant nothing to him. And yet he felt an uncomfortable pull in his stomach at her words.

‘It would bring a storm of paparazzi,’ he countered.

‘Naturally. But from what I hear that might not be such a bad thing.’

He raised a brow in surprise. ‘Have you been reading the tabloids, Dara?’

‘I have been told that you have something of a bad reputation among the people of Sicily.’

‘My father’s reputation. Not mine,’ he corrected.

‘Yes, but his reputation has stood in your way in the past. It doesn’t go unnoticed that you don’t own a single club in your native region.’

Leo fought the urge to snarl. That was a particular sore spot of his. Opting instead for a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder, he leaned in. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared.’

She straightened immediately, her guard firmly in place. ‘Thankfully we both know that caring isn’t high on the agenda here.’ She gestured to the empty tables around them. ‘So, this is the big exclusive launch party?’

‘It’s just a pre-launch. The lower floors are open to a select few guests. Tomorrow is the official event.’ Leo looked down to where the floor below was filled with a swarm of people.

She followed him over to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the entire club.

‘Do you only mingle with the little people at official events?’ she asked.

‘Well, I have been kept busy up here by a very persistent blonde security breach, it seems.’

She ignored that comment, her delicate features taking on a focused edge. ‘Did you know that those water features are blocking off the lounge area from the rest of the club?’ she asked.

Leo blinked, following her gaze to take in the scene below them.

She continued. ‘Also, the spotlights are a little too strong on the dance floor. Softer red-hued lighting would soften the transition into the seated areas.’

He followed her gaze with interest. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to point out?’

She opened her mouth briefly, then stopped as if rethinking her actions.

‘Oh come now, you’ve already begun—don’t hold back on my account.’ He raised a brow in challenge, noting the delicate glow on her cheekbones as she nipped at the skin of her lower lip.

‘It’s just...your staff’s uniforms. They don’t fit the image at all. They’re quite...sparkly and frivolous.’

‘Platinum is the signature colour,’ he argued. ‘They don’t sparkle—they shine.’

She shrugged. ‘They look sparkly to me. I wasn’t trying to insult your style.’

‘I thought you were all about honesty?’ he scolded, frowning.

‘I’m just trying to prove to you that I know what I’m talking about. No matter what kind of event you’re throwing, the principle is always the same. Make it memorable, and make a statement. You’re dealing with an exclusive clientele here—people who expect one-of-a-kind events every time. And that just happens to be my area of expertise.’

‘You could see all of that from up here?’

‘I have a keen eye for detail. I may not be the star guest of the party, but I make it my business to know how to plan one.’

‘And my club does not fit your usual standard?’

‘I don’t have a “usual standard”. In my world there is perfection or failure.’

‘Ah, so this would be a failure?’ He waited patiently for her answer.

Dara remained silent.

He let out a low bark of laughter. ‘I’ve honestly never had someone insult me in order to convince me to sign a contract.’

‘I believe in honesty. And if you choose Devlin Events to represent the castello, honesty is what you will get.’

He looked down at the crowd for a moment. ‘So your plan is to throw a fancy wedding and fix my public image all in one go, is it? I’d say you’re a little out of your league.’

‘My résumé speaks for itself. I’ve personally forged contracts with some of the major resort chains around the island—Santo, Lucchesi and Ottanta.’

‘You’ve worked for the Lucchesi Group?’

‘I’m a freelance consultant. They hired me on a few occasions. The most notable being Umberto and Gloria’s golden wedding anniversary. It was just a small garden party at their family home, but—’

Leo’s business mind perked up at that. ‘You are on first-name terms with Umberto Lucchesi?’

‘Yes. He did offer me a job, which I politely refused. I prefer to be my own boss.’

Leo walked to the glass wall and looked down across the packed club below the mezzanine. Well, this had just gone from interesting to downright serendipitous. He wondered if she realised the significance of what she had just divulged. Maybe it was all a fabrication—she had researched him, after all.

But he knew there was no record of his history with Lucchesi...their recent disagreements. Business was a private affair among Sicilian men, and while he hadn’t set foot on Sicilian soil in more than eighteen years he was still siciliano through and through.

He cursed as his phone rang, and the call took less than ten seconds before he ended it.

‘I’m needed downstairs. Certain guests are getting impatient.’

Her eyes fell, and defeat was evident in the droop of her shoulders. ‘Well, thank you for your time, Mr Valente.’ She held her hand out to him.

He ignored it. ‘It’s Leo. And you misunderstand me. This conversation isn’t over.’

‘It’s not?’

‘Not by a long shot.’ He smiled. ‘One hour. We’ll discuss this further then.’

She moved uneasily. ‘Shall I stay up here?’

‘You deserve to relax after your little stunt tonight, Dara. Come down to the dark side—drink, dance. Practise using the stairs, perhaps.’ He began walking away, back towards his private elevator.

‘But how will I know where to meet you?’ she called.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll find you.’

Leo smiled to himself as the elevator doors closed slowly, her shapely silhouette disappearing from view. He would finish this interesting interlude, and that was a promise.

CHAPTER TWO

LEATHER BARSTOOLS REALLY were a girl’s worst enemy.

Dara sighed and adjusted the hem of her pencil skirt for what felt like the hundredth time. Glamorous socialites and powerful businessmen lined the dance floor, each designer dress more chic than the last. She felt hopelessly mismatched in her black skirt suit. She tapped the email app on her phone, even though it had barely been five minutes since the last check.

With a dull flicker, her emails vanished before her eyes. The screen turned completely blank.

Of course—a dead battery. She stuffed the useless device back into her bag. Was there anything that hadn’t gone wrong tonight?

She was not an impatient person, but the music in here was too loud and it was about a million degrees too warm. Add that to the fact that an extremely rude group of models had commented on her appearance the moment she’d sat down. Her designer suit might as well have been rags next to their glamorous cocktail dresses.

At events like this she was the one who usually stood on the sidelines, barking into her headset at her team. Sitting idly at a bar just made her feel on edge.

Out of habit she scanned the room, noticing details about the layout and decor. For such an elite event, the organisation was nowhere near as fine-tuned as she would expect. And, as she’d told Leo Valente, the staff’s uniforms were nothing short of theatrical—gauche, shiny silver tunics intended to represent the brand name: Platinum.

The sooner she wrapped up this meeting, the better. She was restless when she wasn’t doing something productive. Winter was low season, mostly taken up with administrative tasks. She already missed the hectic schedule of her summer wedding list.

She huffed out an agitated breath and craned her neck to scan the crowd for the object of her thoughts once more. Her stomach lurched as she spotted him.

He stood on the opposite side of the dance floor, surrounded by members of the media. From her vantage point she could see that he stood head and shoulders above the other men, his broad shoulders fitting his tailored suit jacket to perfection.

She shouldn’t be noticing his shoulders. She should be furious that he seemed to have forgotten about his promise. That ‘one hour’ had been up twenty minutes ago.

She fanned herself with a beer mat and looked up just in time to see a silver-clad bartender place an elaborate drink in front of her.

‘Sorry, I didn’t order this.’ She pushed it slowly back towards him, only for him to slide it right back.

‘Compliments of Signor Valente. For his beautiful blonde companion.’ He smiled politely.

Apparently he hadn’t forgotten her after all, she thought. Maybe this was his apology for leaving her waiting? She stared at the drink. It was a frothy cream-coloured cocktail that smelled of rich liqueur.

‘What is it?’ she asked as she took a small sip.

The young bartender smirked, leaning in closer. ‘I believe in English it is called a Screaming Orgasm.’

A screaming what?

Her breath fought with an unfortunate sip of the offending cocktail, making her splutter her outrage noisily onto the counter.

Dara felt her face turn bright red. The bartender moved away, but not before she caught a glimpse of him laughing to himself. Of all the most blatant disregards for propriety, this was just outrageous.

She looked around and sure enough the group of models were now eyeing her even more intently. One of them commented loudly that clearly Valente’s standards must be dropping.

Dara felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Was this why he’d asked her to stay here? Did Leo Valente expect her to sleep with him in order to get her contract? The thought sent a shiver of something suspiciously close to excitement down her spine.

She shook the foreign sensation off with a frown. She needed his help—that was true. But not at the expense of her pride. She had been a fool to promise Castello Bellamo to Portia Palmer without researching its owner first. Her choice was to sit here and act as a billionaire’s plaything for the night or leave and face the consequences.

Her business reputation might be salvaged, but her pride...that was another matter entirely.

Making her decision, she grabbed her bag and pushed her way through the crowd towards the exit. Her heels ached with each step and the music seemed to be getting louder and louder. When she finally emerged out into the cool night air she felt as if she had just escaped hell itself.

Damn Leo Valente and his perfect unobtainable castle. Standing out in the chilly October air, she remembered that her phone was dead. She stalked her way back towards the club and asked the hostess to call her a cab. The dark-haired woman looked as if she might refuse for a moment, but thankfully nodded and disappeared inside.

Dara stood at the edge of the pavement and hugged her blazer tighter around her shoulders. Was she overreacting here? Maybe she should go back inside and give it one last try. The alternative was admitting to Portia Palmer that she had lied about being able to make her dream wedding in Monterocca a reality. The actress famously blacklisted anyone who got on her bad side.

Promising a location that everyone had tried to get for years and then taking it away most definitely qualified as bad.

She didn’t know what on earth had possessed her to make such a ridiculous claim. She usually played by the rules, and she always came out on top. Why couldn’t she have got landed with a kindly old man to convince rather than a hot-blooded Sicilian with a cruel sense of humour?

The door of the club slammed and jolted her out of her reverie. Dara spun round and came face-to-face with the object of her thoughts.

‘Do you always run away from business meetings or am I just an exception?’ he said, coming to a stop in front of her on the pavement. He was breathing heavily, as though he had just run through the entire club.

‘I would hardly call being sat at a bar and plied with obscenely named alcohol a business meeting.’ She folded her arms across her chest.

‘You looked like you needed to laugh. Perhaps it was in bad taste.’ He shrugged.

‘You really do have a twisted sense of humour.’ Dara huffed out a breath. ‘I’m not prepared to...to play any games in order to get what I want here.’

He raised a brow, obviously understanding her meaning. ‘Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not in the habit of coercing women into my bed.’

Dara’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. ‘Either way, I would be waiting until hell freezes over for you to hire out your castle. You practically said it yourself.’

‘Castello Bellamo is my bargaining chip. Prove yourself to me and I will consider the contract.’

‘Prove myself to you how, exactly?’

‘The grand launch event tomorrow night will be very high profile. You seem to have a lot of opinions—I’d like to see you in action.’

Dara frowned. ‘I don’t understand...are you trying to offer me a job?’

‘I’m offering you an audition to convince me of why I should trust you. A temporary consulting position, of sorts. Impress me and I’ll go through your proposal. It’s more than anyone else has ever gotten.’

She ignored the silky tone in his voice. ‘But why offer me a chance in the first place? What’s your game?’

He made a clucking sound. ‘So untrusting, Dara. I’m curious to see if you’re as ruthlessly ambitious as you say you are.’

‘So if I pass the test, then you’ll trust me?’

‘Perhaps... But what kind of a businessman would I be if I trusted every beautiful blonde who offered me a deal?’ He extended a hand towards her. ‘So, Dara Devlin, are you prepared to risk your perfect reputation for a crumbling old castle?’

‘“Risk” implies that I stand to fail.’

She accepted his hand and felt a frisson of electricity as his gaze intensified. The heat of his body seemed to flow up her veins. All of a sudden he was closer, his scent bombarding her senses as he leaned his body towards her. He pressed his lips to one cheek, then slowly progressed to the other.

Dara stood frozen as he eased back from her. The kiss was customary—she had got used to the gesture soon after moving to this country—but being so close to him, feeling the heat from his body scant inches from hers... She cleared the surprise from her expression, finding him watching her closely.

‘My driver will see that you get back to your hotel safely.’ He gestured to the town car that had pulled up by them. ‘Until tomorrow, Dara...’

One last look and he was gone, walking back into his den of sin.

Dara watched him go, the realisation of what she had just agreed to making her insides flutter. She had just got further with Castello Bellamo than anyone had ever come before. But she felt as though she had calmly agreed to swim in a tank full of hungry sharks. No, she corrected herself, not sharks plural. One shark in particular.

Leo Valente was a smooth-talking predator, and she had somehow managed to catch his interest. She wouldn’t let this chance go to waste. First she would wow him with her event expertise—then present him with her proposal for the castle. She smiled as she thought of his arrogant confidence. Sometimes even sharks needed to be taught a lesson.

* * *

Dara’s hotel wasn’t particularly fancy, but for such short notice it was good value and it didn’t have bugs in the beds. That was good enough for her.

She decided to take the stairs down to the lobby to use up some of the nervous energy she had accumulated since leaving the club last night. After lying awake since dawn, staring into the distance, she had sprung out of bed and begun typing some ideas she’d had for the event tonight. They were good ideas—maybe some were even great—but that didn’t mean they would be heard. After getting dressed and pacing the room for an hour, she’d decided against it.

Whatever Leo Valente’s plan was for her this evening, she doubted it had anything to do with her organisation skills. It was up to her to convince him to contract Castello Bellamo out to her by not giving him a chance to ignore her logic.

She decided that she might as well see the sights while she mentally tortured herself. Whatever it was that he had in store for her, she was going to give it her all.

The lobby of the hotel had a small tourist kiosk. She approached the guide behind the counter and asked for some basic tools to see the main sights of Milan in a few short hours. The girl quickly began gathering various maps and brochures for her to plan her journey. She would need tickets for the trams, she announced, and headed through a small door behind the desk.