Sleeping With The Enemy. Annie West

well. He could lose it all if he didn’t figure this out.

      He’d had no idea, until his father had died and the estate had fallen into his hands, just how much of a tangle it was in. Alessio Gavretti had spent money like he had a printing press in the basement—and so had Nico’s mother.

      They’d separated years ago, but never divorced. His father spent money on women, and his mother spent it on clothing, jewels and homes. Over the years, they’d managed to rack up an impressive roster of loans and long-term debts. It was as if each one had been trying to outdo the other.

      Now Nico had to somehow manage to keep the world from knowing how close the Gavretti fortunes teetered to the brink.

      He wanted to laugh at the irony. He’d threatened Tina with ruin for her brother if she did not agree to marry him, and yet he was the one who could be ruined if knowledge of the estate’s financial matters became public at the wrong moment. He did not doubt that Renzo D’Angeli would snap up Gavretti Manufacturing and sell it off for scrap.

      Nico didn’t blame him. In his position, he’d do the same—and without a shred of remorse, either.

      Nico leaned on the balustrade and peered at the lights of the village in the distance. He couldn’t let it happen, and he damn sure couldn’t let Tina refuse to marry him. Without a marriage, he would have no claim to his child, especially if she refused to publicly acknowledge him as the father, no matter what she said about papers and signatures.

       And why did that matter so much?

      It wasn’t as if he knew the first thing about being a father, or even that he had latent fatherly instincts coming to the fore. Nor had he wanted a wife or a child to interfere with the way he ran his life. He was free, unencumbered by entanglements, and uninterested in changing the way he lived.

      Yes, if he were to let her walk away, he could work on saving the Gavretti estate and think about finding a proper wife later.

      Nico snorted. What was a proper wife? His mother had been a proper wife, hand-selected by his father’s family, and look how that had worked out. Two bitter, selfish people who’d produced one child and then used that child in their feud against each other.

      Anger ate at him, burning in his gut the way it always did when he thought of his parents and the empty childhood he’d had. Oh, he’d had everything money could buy, but he’d lacked the one thing it couldn’t: love.

      Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to the D’Angelis. There had only been the three of them, but they’d had enough love in their home to fill him with its glow simply by association.

      He glanced over at the glass doors that led from Tina’s room. They were shut, the curtains drawn, but there was a light on inside. The light of the television flickered in the gap where the curtains hadn’t quite come together all the way.

      A wave of longing filled him, stunning him with its potency. He wanted to walk inside there and take her in his arms again, fill her body with his and shut out the world. It was melancholy and stress getting the best of him, he knew that, but it made the feeling no less powerful.

      If he were still in Rome, he’d head out to a club for a few hours, call one of the women on his contact list. He’d engage in a night of wanton sex and wake up refreshed and ready to tackle his problems again.

      Love had nothing to do with it.

      No matter how much he might have longed for his parents’ love, or how much he’d admired the D’Angelis’ wealth of it, he knew that love was ephemeral in his world. He’d grown up in a family who loved themselves more than each other, and he expected that was how his life would continue. He was thirty years old and he’d never felt even a glimmering of love for another person.

      Until the moment Valentina D’Angeli had walked back into his life and told him she was expecting his child. He didn’t kid himself that he’d fallen into instant and overwhelming love with this baby, this collection of cells growing in her body, but something had happened.

      He’d felt as if she’d punched him in the gut, and the feeling hadn’t abated over the past few hours. He didn’t know what it was, but he wasn’t letting her walk away. He hadn’t intended to marry her, but in the end he’d realized it was the only way.

      Aside from ensuring him access to his child, marrying Tina would give her brother pause. If Renzo did get wind of Nico’s financial troubles, he would think twice about ruining the man his sister had married.

      Mercenary, yes. But Nico damn well didn’t care. He’d been mercenary for so long now that he couldn’t bother growing a conscience for one woman. No matter how she tugged at long forgotten memories of acceptance and hope.

       Chapter Six

      IT was midmorning when Tina awoke, and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. But then it all came back with brutal clarity and she sat up with a gasp. She was marooned in the middle of a lake, held captive by a dark and dangerous man who insisted that she marry him.

      She reached for her phone on the bedside table, searching hopefully for a signal, but there was none. Tina tossed the phone down on the plush comforter and made a noise of displeasure.

      But what would she do if there were a signal? She’d text Lucia, of course, but she most definitely would not call her mother or Renzo. A shiver slid along her spine at the thought. That would be a disaster.

      She flipped the covers back and went to open the heavy silk drapes. The sun filtered in through the laurels, dappling her face with warmth. The lake was alive with windsurfers in the distance, and here and there motorboats zipped by, some towing skiers and others simply out for a leisurely ride.

      It was without doubt a gorgeous view and she stared at the green mountains in the distance before turning her attention to getting dressed. Tina showered—and then, just to prove a point, she blow-dried her hair with a round brush until it was stick straight.

      When her hair hung smooth and long halfway down her back, she went into the walk-in closet where a staff member had put away all her clothing. Everything was crisp and ready to be worn, so she chose a pair of shantung silk trousers in bright red and a long silk vest in black that belted at the waist. She added a pair of strappy stilettos, just to add a bit of wow factor, and then put on the bangle bracelet her mother had given her for her graduation. She added the rest of her jewelry for the day—diamond earrings, a gold necklace, three rings—before she was satisfied.

      No one seemed to be stirring in the house until she reached the kitchen and found the chef and a trio of helpers at work on something that smelled delicious.

      “If you will join the signore on the terrazzo, signorina, breakfast will soon be served.”

      Tina thanked the woman and went out to the same table she’d shared with Nico last night. He was on the phone, a laptop in front of him, and she stopped to watch the way the sunlight slanted over his perfect features. He seemed oblivious to her presence.

      “It stops now,” he grated. “You have an allowance. If you burn through it, you will get nothing more until the next quarter.”

      A second later he smacked his palm on the table, swearing violently. Tina jumped at the sudden movement and spun to go back inside. Before she could reach the door, he called out to her. She turned slowly. He still had the phone to his ear, but he beckoned her over.

      Warily, she approached and took a seat while he continued to argue with whoever was on the other end. Then he ended the call abruptly and slid the ringer to Silent.

      “How is it you get a signal out here and I get nothing?” she asked.

      “It’s the carrier,” he told her. “I use a different service when I am here than I do elsewhere. Though sometimes, when the weather is right and you are in the right part of the castle, other