Page 2 of 2 Books in One Bundle

But less than half an hour later Dante was staring—no,glaring—at his old friend, his face stark, his expression as furious, as disbelieving, as it had been when he’d read his grandfather’s will.

‘Raf, come on! Therehasto be an escape clause!’

Rafaello shrugged elegant shoulders in his expensive dinner jacket.

‘He’s made it crystal-clear. And watertight,’ he repeated to Dante. A smile almost of amusement crossed the lawyer’s saturnine face. ‘So, tell me,’ he asked, handing back the copy of Dante’s grandfather’s will, with a tinge of humour in his voice, ‘who is going to be the lucky woman snapping up one of Italy’s most eligible bachelors? So far you’ve only ever indulged in oh-so-fleeting affairs.’

Dante’s eyes flashed darkly. ‘Don’t hang that one on me. I’ve never damn well had time for anything else, and you know it! No time for any kind of meaningful relationship.’

His friend lifted the glass of champagne he’d placed on a nearby pier table in the empty lounge they’d been shown into, well away from the wedding guests, so he could peruse the will.

‘Well,’ he mused, ‘isn’t that what your grandfather is seeking to rectify? To ensure you now form a permanent relationship. Or, of course,’ he said, ‘you could forego your inheritance.’

Something showed in Dante’s face that was not just fury. ‘I worked for that inheritance, Raf. I damn wellworked! I gave my grandfather everything he ever wanted of me!’

There was frustration in his voice, but more than that. Hurt, bewilderment...

His grandfather had raised him from a boy—a boy whose own father had never worked a day in his life. Who had ended up crashing his car, killing himself and his wife in it. As for his mother—well, her idea of work had been to paint her nails and stress over which gown to wear to whatever party she was going to.

That was why, Dante knew, not without a stab of bitterness, his grandfather had insisted that a boy with such idle, self-entitled parents should understand that money did not grow on trees—it had to be made, by putting in hard work and long hours.

And that was just what Dante had done for the last dozen years, since leaving university with his first-class degree in economics and finance. Worked non-stop as his grandfather’s deputy—and his eventual heir. That had been understood. Promised.

And now, instead, he’d been cheated of it.

‘Dante, don’t take it to heart so.’ Raf’s voice was not amused any longer, only sympathetic. ‘Look, while the will is watertight, it may not be perpetually binding. He stipulates marriage as a condition for your inheritance, but...’ he looked meaningfully at his grim-faced friend ‘...it doesn’t stipulate a lifelong marriage.’

Dante’s eyes narrowed. He understood immediately what his friend was saying.

‘What’s the minimum term?’ he asked bluntly.

Rafaello took a considering sip of champagne. ‘Well, you must avoid any risk that the marriage might appear...artificial. That might well void the terms of the will. So I’d say, off the top of my head, it would probably be safe to consider a term of around two years.’

‘Two years?Dio, I’ll be nearly thirty-five by then. Looking at forty!’

Rafaello shrugged again, but sympathetically. ‘Well, let’s say eighteen months at the minimum, then. Could you stomach a marriage that brief?’

Dante glowered. ‘Marrying,’ he said bleakly, ‘for any length of time at all, is the very last thing I want to do.’ He looked at his friend. ‘Raf, you knew my grandfather. He controlled my life while he was alive, telling me it was both my responsibility and my privilege to be the man to keep the company he founded going, given that my father was such a waste of space. And now,’ he went on, the bitterness blatant, ‘he’s still trying to control me from the grave. Keep me chained...tied down. Allowing me no freedom even over my own damn personal life!’

Rafaello was frowning again, consideringly. ‘Well, what if you found a woman who would make no demands on you? Who only wanted a marriage of convenience herself? An outward formality, nothing more, and for a limited period of time?’

‘As if that’s likely,’ Dante growled.

Whether or not Raf’s cynicism about Dante being one of Italy’s most eligible bachelors was justified, he knew from his own necessarily fleeting affairs, snatched out of his punishing work schedule, that many females would snap at the chance of marrying him. But it wouldn’t be some form of in-name-only marriage they would be after. They’d want the full cosying-up-for-ever-with-a-lavish-dress-allowance-and-a-baby-or-two-to-tie-him-down-with kind. Permanently.

The very thought was anathema to Dante. To be constrained—imprisoned, damn it—in marriage to a demanding wife every bit as much he had been by his grandfather’s iron control...

But his friend was undeterred by Dante’s rejection of his idea.

‘I don’t see why not. She might have reasons of her own for wanting marriage for a very limited period of time, and in name only—for having, in fact, very little to do with you. There would still have to be good reasons for it, though, so it didn’t arouse suspicion and potentially breach the conditions of the will.’

Rafaello’s ruminations did not impress Dante.

He gave a dismissive snort. ‘And how do I find such an ultra-convenient bride?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘Who knows?’ Rafaello said genially, placing an arm around Dante’s tense shoulders and starting to guide him towards the hall, which was empty now as the wedding guests took their places for dinner. ‘You might find her here tonight. So I think it would be a good idea for you to crash my friend’s wedding...’

Another derisive snort from Dante was his only answer.

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