Untamed Italian, Blackmailed Innocent. Jacqueline Baird

      

      ‘Sally…May I call you Sally?’ he asked politely, then went on, ‘You are a beautiful young woman. Your father must be a very proud man.’

      Overblown words of flattery from a man with a sexually explicit invitation in the dark eyes that met hers did not impress her. Her mother was her only concern.

      Straightening her slender shoulders, she held out her hand politely. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said flatly.

      Zac Delucca did not miss the flash of distaste in her brilliant blue eyes as he finally let go of her hand.

      Her voice was low, and ever so slightly husky. Her brilliant blue eyes had been cool as she glanced up at him and swiftly back to her father. Never had a woman so instantly dismissed him. Yet this beauty had done it twice. Her indifference rankled, and he was all the more determined to make her aware of him…

      Jacqueline Baird began writing as a hobby, when her family objected to the smell of her oil painting, and immediately became hooked on the romantic genre. She loves travelling and worked her way around the world from Europe to the Americas and Australia, returning to marry her teenage sweetheart. She lives in Ponteland, Northumbria, the county of her birth, and has two teenage sons.

      Untamed

      Italian,

      Blackmailed

      Innocent

      by

      Jacqueline Baird

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      Table of Contents

       Cover Page

       Excerpt

       About The Author

       Title Page

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       EPILOGUE

       Copyright

      Chapter One

      ZAC DELUCCA stepped out of the chauffeur-driven limousine and glanced up at the four-storeyed Georgian-style building in front of him: the head office of Westwold Components, a company he had finally acquired two weeks ago. He had left Raffe, his top man, in charge of the changeover, so he had not expected to be needed in London in June, and he was not pleased…

      He was ruggedly attractive, with black hair and shrewd dark eyes, and the navy silk and mohair suit he wore was a testament to the expertise of his tailor. The jacket stretched taut across shoulders as wide as a barn door, and at six feet five he was a powerful, impressive figure of a man in every respect. Not a man anyone could overlook, though the fierce frown at present marring his bold features would scare all but the bravest into glancing the other way.

      Orphaned at a year old by the tragic death of his young parents in a car crash, Zac Delucca had spent his early years in a children’s home in Rome. He had left at fifteen, with nothing but the clothes he stood up in and a burning ambition to become a success in life.

      Tall, and looking older than his years, he had by sheer guts, determination and keen intelligence dragged himself up from the gutter that beckoned. He had studied by day and used his physical strength in the testosterone-fuelled world of the fighting game at night to earn money and build up a stake to set up his own company: Delucca Holdings.

      He had fought masked, under an assumed name, because he’d had total belief in his ability, mentally and physically, to be a winner in life. From a young age he had known he was destined to succeed on a worldwide scale…never mind in a canvas ring…

      His first purchase at the age of twenty had been a rundown farm in southern Italy that had included three cottages, a large farmhouse and a thousand acres of neglected land. A few weeks later the government had bought a chunk of the acreage to build a new runway to expand a local airport for the increasing tourist trade.

      Some people said he’d had inside information. He had said nothing and recouped the money he had invested and more besides. He’d converted the farm house, which was situated on the coast at the southernmost tip of Italy, with stunning views over the sea, and kept it for his own use.

      The remaining land had included an overgrown olive grove he had tried to cultivate himself, but he had quickly realised agriculture was not for him and finally hired an expert in the field to restore, enlarge and manage the farm, while converting the cottages for the staff. Eventually he’d