Falco: The Dark Guardian. Sandra Marton

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       “So, how would we do this, then? I mean, how could you watch over me, go after whoever this is, do whatever you need to do, without people knowing?”

      Falco had considered that during the six-hour flight from New York. There were lots of ways to move into someone’s life to provide protection and search out information without raising questions. The idea was to assume a role other people would accept. He could pass himself off as her driver. Her assistant. Her personal trainer.

      Okay. Personal trainer it would be…

      “Mr. Orsini?”

      “Falco,” he said, looking down into her eyes. He saw the rise and fall of her breasts, remembered the soft, lush feel of her against him, and he knew damned well he wasn’t going to pretend to be her trainer after all.

      “Simple,” he said calmly. “We’ll make people think I’m your lover.”

      She stared at him. Then she gave a little laugh.

      “That’s crazy,” she said. “No one will believe—”

      “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Yeah, they will.”

      Falco reached out, gathered Elle in his arms, and kissed her.

      Falco: The Dark Guardian

      by

      Sandra Marton

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      About the Author

      SANDRA MARTON wrote her first novel while she was still in primary school. Her doting parents told her she’d be a writer some day, and Sandra believed them. In secondary school and college she wrote dark poetry nobody but her boyfriend understood—though, looking back, she suspects he was just being kind. As a wife and mother she wrote murky short stories in what little spare time she could manage, but not even her boyfriend-turned-husband could pretend to understand those. Sandra tried her hand at other things, among them teaching and serving on the Board of Education in her home town, but the dream of becoming a writer was always in her heart.

      At last Sandra realised she wanted to write books about what all women hope to find: love with that one special man, love that’s rich with fire and passion, love that lasts for ever. She wrote a novel, her very first, and sold it to Mills & Boon^® Modern^™ Romance. Since then she’s written more than sixty books, all of them featuring sexy, gorgeous, larger-than-life heroes. A four-time RITA^® award finalist, she’s also received five RT Book Reviews awards, and has been honoured with RT Book Reviews’s Career Achievement Award for Series Romance. Sandra lives with her very own sexy, gorgeous, larger-than-life hero in a sun-filled house on a quiet country lane in the north-eastern United States.

      The patriarch of the powerful Sicilian dynasty, Cesare Orsini, has fallen ill, and he wants atonement before he dies.

      One by one he sends for his sons—he has a mission for each to help him clear his conscience.

      His sons are proud and determined, but they will do their duty—the tasks they undertake will change their lives for ever! They are…

      THE ORSINI BROTHERS

       Darkly handsome—proud and arrogant The perfect Sicilian husbands!

      by

      Sandra Marton

      RAFFAELE: TAMING HIS TEMPESTUOUS VIRGIN

      October 2009

      DANTE: CLAIMING HIS SECRET LOVE-CHILD

      December 2009

      FALCO: THE DARK GUARDIAN

      August 2010

      Coming soon:

      Nicolo’s story!

      Chapter One

      THERE were those who said that Falco Orsini was too rich, too good-looking, too arrogant for his own good.

      Falco would have agreed that he was rich, that he was probably arrogant, and if you judged his looks by the seemingly endless stream of beautiful women who moved in and out of his bed, well, he’d have had to admit that perhaps he had something going for him that women liked.

      There were also those who called him heartless. He would not have agreed with that.

      He was not heartless. He was honest. Why let a competitor buy an elite investment bank if he could scoop it up instead? Why let a competitor get the edge in a business deal if he could get it first? Why go on pretending interest in a woman when he no longer felt any?

      It wasn’t as if he was a man who ever made promises he had no intention of keeping.

      Honest, not heartless. And in the prime of life.

      Falco was, like his three brothers, tall. Six foot three. Hard of face, hard of body. Buff, women said. That was true but it had nothing to do with vanity. He was fit the way a man must be when he knows keeping himself that way could mean the difference between life and death.

      Not that he lived that kind of existence anymore.

      Not often, at any rate.

      Not that he talked about.

      At thirty-two, Falco had already led what many would consider an interesting life.

      At eighteen, he’d grabbed his backpack and thumbed his way around the world. At nineteen, he’d joined the army. At twenty, he became a Special Forces warrior. Someplace along the way, he picked up a bunch of disparate university credits, a skill at high-stakes gambling and, eventually, a passion for high-stakes investing.

      He lived by his own rules. He always had. The opinions of others didn’t concern him. He believed in honor, duty and integrity. Men who’d served with him, men who dealt with him, didn’t always like him—he was too removed, some said—but they respected him almost as much as women coveted him.

      Or hated him.

      It didn’t matter.

      Family was everything.

      He loved his brothers the same way they loved him, with a ferocity that made the four of them as formidable in everything as they were in business. He would have given his life for his sisters, who would happily have returned the favor. He adored his mother, who worshipped all her sons as perhaps only Italian mothers can.

      His father…

      Who gave a damn about him?

      Falco, like his brothers, had written off Cesare Orsini years ago. As far as his wife and daughters were concerned, Cesare owned a carting company, a construction firm and some of New York City’s priciest real estate.

      His sons knew the truth.

      Their father was the head of something he referred to only as La Famigilia.

      He was, in other words, the same as the thugs who had originated in Sicily in the last half of the nineteenth century. Nothing could change that, not the Brioni suits, not the enormous mansion in what had once been Manhattan’s Little Italy and was now Greenwich Village. But, for their mother’s sake, there were times Falco and his brothers put that aside and pretended the Orsinis were just another big, happy Sicilian-American family.

      Today, for instance. On this bright, late autumn afternoon, Dante had taken a wife.

      Falco still had trouble getting his head around that.

      First Rafe. Now Dante. Two brothers