Page 1 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

CHAPTER ONE

THEMESSAGETHATpinged on Issy Seymore’s phone was the notification that her taxi had been dispatched.

She met her sister’s apprehensive dark eyes. This was it. Everything they’d worked towards this last decade about to come to fruition. All the late-night planning. All the scheming.

She’d imagined she’d reach this moment and be buzzing at this spring into action. She hadn’t expected to feel such a weight in the belly she’d spent years working desperately hard to keep flat and toned. Gianni Rossi favoured a specific type of woman. Short brunettes that leaned towards plumpness were not in that favoured league.

‘We are doing the right thing aren’t we?’ she whispered.

Amelia swallowed hard and nodded. ‘But if you’ve got cold feet and want to back out then...’

‘No,’ she cut her off with a fortifying shake of her head. ‘It’s not cold feet. Just nerves, I guess.’

Amelia rubbed her arms and gave a rueful smile of understanding. If anyone understood about nerves, it was her sister. The faint bruising under her eyes was testament to the lack of sleep that had gripped them both since they’d realised five weeks ago that the stars had finally aligned and it was time to put the plan they’d spent so long finessing into action.

Amelia had taken all the risks to get them to this point, had spent two years in the enemy’s camp, every minute of her working life spent with a cold knot of fear of being found out. As the Seymore sisters knew to their personal cost, the Rossi cousins were men without conscience. Without humanity. They’d ruined their lives and now it was the sisters’ turn to repay the favour. Let them get a taste of what it felt to have your whole life destroyed. Because it could only be a taste. It was impossible to replicate the scale of the damage the Italian men had wrought on their family.

While Amelia had put herself on the line every working day for two years, Issy had worked safely behind the scenes, immersed in the online world. Now it was time for her to step up, step out, and play her part in the real world.

Straightening her spine, Issy stood as tall as her five-foot-one body would stretch.

Amelia’s smile at this contained the first hint of humour either of them had been able to muster that day. ‘Remember to keep your shoes on around him—you don’t want him knowing you’re short one end before you get him on the yacht.’

A splutter of laughter left Issy’s lips, and she threw her arms around her big sister and hugged her tightly.

‘You’ll let me know as soon as you land?’ Amelia asked into her hair, embracing her with equal intensity.

‘I promise.’

‘You’ve packed your charm repellent?’

She snorted and hugged her even tighter. ‘You know I don’t need it.’

Amelia disentangled her arms and cupped Issy’s cheeks. ‘Promise you’ll be careful. Don’t take any silly risks.’

‘I won’t. You be careful too.’

A shadow fell over her sister’s face but she smiled. ‘I’m always careful.’

Issy’s phone pinged. Her driver had arrived.

One last embrace and a kiss to her sister’s cheek and it was time to leave.

Time to fly to the Caribbean and put the plan they’d spent ten years strategizing into fruition.

Ten days earlier

Gianni Rossi knew when a woman was interested in him and the beautiful blonde with the fabulous legs at the bar of this ultra-exclusive, members-only club was definitely interested. She’d wafted through the swing doors with a feline grace and as she passed his table, her eyes had glanced at his. When she reached the bar, she’d turned her head to look back at him and this time the lock of her stare had not been fleeting. Now she sat sucking a cocktail through a straw with a gleam in her eye that suggested she would like to be sucking something else.

Never a man to turn down a beautiful woman blatantly showing her interest, Gianni excused himself from the company he was in. He indicated the stool beside her. ‘May I?’

Wide, eminently kissable lips twitched. Dark blue eyes gleamed. ‘Be my guest.’

He rested his backside on it and beckoned the barman over.

‘Drink?’ he asked her.

The gleam deepened. ‘Sure.’

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