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  “This is you acting intimidated? I can’t wait until you’re comfortable. You’ll be hell on wheels once you trust me, won’t you? Pushing back on me at every turn.”

  A pang of remorse hit her. “I should have trusted you and told you about Avery.”

  “It’s a difficult subject. I understand.”

  “It wasn’t just that,” she admitted. “I was afraid of how you’d react. Afraid you would push me away and I would never have a chance to get to know you better. Then I was afraid you’d judge me. That I’d lose you.” Her eyes dampened. “And then I did lose you.”

  “No, you didn’t. I’m right here.” A smile ghosted across his lips. “We had a fight, and we’ll have others because we’re both headstrong and used to thinking independently. But we’ll always come back to each other. Wear my ring and I’ll prove that to you.”

  “You really think we could make this work?”

  “There’s only one way to know.”

  “Okay.” Nerves had her hand shooting out between them as though they were finalizing a deal. “I’ll live with you here and—”

  He yanked her close and swooped a deep kiss onto her lips, one that sent her arms twining around his neck in joy. One of her feet came off the floor.

  He used the leverage of taking her weight to pivot her toward the bedroom door, then broke their kiss to walk her backward.

  “Wait. I need more of that first.” He paused and drew her properly against him, squeezing out all the shadows and filling her with a golden light while his mouth sweetly and lazily got reacquainted with hers.

  They both groaned and she whispered, “I missed you.”

  She might have cringed then because it had only been a few days. They’d been dark ones, though. The beginning of eternity without him.

  But here he was murmuring, “Me too,” before sweeping his mouth across hers with more heat and passion and craving.

  “Luca,” she gasped as need sank its talons into her.

  “Sì. I need you, too,” he said in a rough voice and picked her up to carry her through to the bedroom in long strides. When he set her on the bed, he came down with her and framed her face. “I need you, Amy. You. Never leave me again.”

  “Stay and fight?” she suggested on a shaken laugh.

  “Sì.” He pressed his smile to hers and they didn’t talk again for a long time.

  * * *

  “Amy,” Bea murmured. She and Clare widened their eyes with awe as they entered Luca’s home several weeks later. Hers too, he kept insisting, but she was taking things slowish.

  Not so slow that she didn’t introduce Luca by his new title as she drew her friends into the lounge.

  “This is Luca. My fiancé.” She gave an exaggerated wave of her wrist to show off the ring. It was an oval ruby with a halo of diamonds on a simple gold band, not extravagant, but invaluable for its sentimental and historical significance. He had proposed properly the day she officially moved in with him. She’d been staying with him since he’d come to London so, even though it all happened very quickly, it felt right to make it official. She was beyond honored to be his future wife.

  “Oh, my God! Congratulations.” Bea and Clare hugged her nearly to death and grew flustered when Luca accepted their congratulations by brushing away an offer to shake hands and embraced each of them.

  “I’m delighted to meet you both. And I look forward to getting to know you better, but Amy’s been missing you. I’ll let you catch up.” He touched Amy’s arm. “I’ll tell my sister she can release the statement on our engagement.”

  “Thank you.” Amy wrinkled her nose. She had asked him to wait on announcing it until she’d had the chance to tell her two best friends in person. “You spoil me.”

  “Nothing less than you deserve, mi amore.” He set a kiss on her lips, nodded at the other two women and disappeared up the stairs.

  Clare and Bea stood there with their mouths open.

  “You’ve been busy,” Clare accused.

  “Oh, please. You both have plenty of explaining to do about your own whereabouts these last weeks. Come.” Amy led them to where the wine and glasses were waiting. “Dish.”

  EPILOGUE

  “AND THE WINNER for Most Innovative Integrated Media Messaging goes to London Connection, for their Consent to Solar Power campaign on behalf of AR Green Solutions.”

  Bea and Clare shot to their feet in excitement while Luca said a smug, “I knew it,” beside Amy. He rose to help her out of her chair.

  Amy needed help. She was eight months pregnant going on eleven. She had been on the fence about attending this ceremony, but it was her last chance for a night out and a rare opportunity to catch up with her best friends.

  Of course, when they had planned it, Amy hadn’t known she was pregnant again. It had been thrilling news to learn she was expecting their second child, but a surprise, considering it happened a mere twelve weeks after their daughter Zabrina had been born.

  Despite how busy she was as a mother, Amy was keeping her hand in with London Connection. She had personally supervised the team who had come up with this promotion for the solar tiles Luca was producing with his partner Emiliano.

  They were heading straight to Vallia in the morning, though. Sofia was not even engaged, let alone showing signs of producing the next ruler. This baby would be third in line for the throne after Luca and Zabrina. Everyone wanted this babyto be born there.

  For the most part, Amy had been feeling good. Tired, but Luca was a hands-on father, and they had a nanny along with other staff who were always willing to cuddle a princess.

  Even so, Amy leaned on Bea and Clare as they all went onto the dais. “Can you believe this is our life?” she asked them.

  They were both beaming, all of them at the top of their individual worlds.

  But as had always been their dynamic, both women gave Amy a little shove toward the microphone, letting her take the heat of the spotlight for all of them.

  “I wouldn’t be where I am without these two wonderful women beside me and the brilliant men who conceived these panels, most especially my husband who didn’t dismiss me when I said ‘What if we show your workers asking Mother Nature for consent?’”

  A ripple of laughter went through the room at the unusual campaign.

  “I’m the one who said she was out of her mind,” Clare interjected, making Amy laugh because that was exactly what her friend had said, before assuring her she trusted her and encouraging her to go for it.

  Something happened when Amy laughed, though. A release. She felt the flood of dampness and cringed with an agony of embarrassment.

  “Ames?” Bea squeezed her arm. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “This is not a stunt for more publicity, I swear.” Amy shaded her eyes and looked for her husband who was already moving quickly toward her, an anxious expression on his face. “But I’m about to make a scene.”

  “Amore, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m so sorry, Luca. My water broke.”

  As the whole room erupted, Luca gathered her into his side. “Of course, it did,” he said ruefully. “Never a dull moment. Do you know how much I love you for that?”

  Her love for him was touch and go for the next few hours while she labored to bring their son into the world, but at dawn, when she woke to see him cradling their newborn, her feelings toward him defied words.

  He barely looked any worse for wear despite the fact he’d been up all night. His love for her and their son glowed from his expression when he noticed she was awake.

  “Do you know how much I love you?” she asked.

  “I think I do,” he said, caressing her jaw and kissing her temple. “But tell me anyway.”

  * * * * *

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  ISBN-13: 9781488073328

  Ways to Ruin a Royal Reputation

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  “I shall only marry for love.” Ariana smiled at him then and teased him a little. “Do you even know what that word means, Gian?”

  “No,” he replied, “and I don’t care to find out.”

  For several reasons, that would not be a sensible thing to do. Neither was the way he was looking into her eyes right now.

  Yes, he had noticed the huskiness of her voice and the earlier batting of her eyelashes. There was a friction in the Ariana-scented air, and his hand wanted to know for itself the softness of her cheek—so much so that Gian had to focus on not lifting his hand and cupping her face.

  Gian, despite his formidable reputation, had scruples, and to kiss her, as he now desired to, was not something he would do.

  And, aside from that, this was Ariana Romano.

  The daughter of a man he respected and the little sister of his lifelong friend. An employee. A casual affair she could never be, and that was all Gian wanted or knew.

  Ariana Romano was completely off-limits.

  Carol Marinelli recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put “writer.” Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and she put down the truth—“writing.” The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed, she crossed her fingers and answered “swimming”—but, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

  Books by Carol Marinelli

  Harlequin Presents

  Secret Prince’s Christmas Seduction

  One Night with Consequences

  The Sicilian’s Surprise Love-Child

  Secret Heirs of Billionaires

  Claimed for the Sheikh’s Shock Son

  Claiming His Hidden Heir

  Ruthless Royal Sheikhs

  Captive for the Sheikh’s Pleasure

  The Ruthless Deveraux Brothers

  The Innocent’s Shock Pregnancy

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Cinderella

  Those Notorious Romanos

  Italy’s Most Scandalous Virgin

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  The Italian’s Forbidden Virgin

  Carol Marinelli

  Contents

  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

  CHAPTER ONE

  GIAN DE LUCA WAS the Duke of Luctano, yet he chose not to use his title. Others, though, could not quite bring themselves to let it go.

  And as he finished up the working week in his sumptuous office suite, on the ground floor of his flagship hotel La Fiordelise, in Rome, his PA informed him that his date—for want of a better word—had arrived.

  ‘I was supposed to meet her at the theatre,’ Gian said, barely looking up as he signed off on some paperwork.

  ‘Yes,’ Luna agreed, for she was more than aware of his heavy schedule and that he kept his private life and work as separate as was possible, ‘and a driver was ordered, but it would seem she wanted...’

  Luna paused for slight effect, which told Gian she was about to quote directly.

  ‘“To save the Duke the trouble.”’

  His pen paused and then Gian’s final signature of the day appeared darkly on the page as the nib of his pen pressed in firmly. ‘I see.’

  ‘She also asked not to be treated as a hotel guest and made to wait in Reception. Given that pre-theatre dining is about to commence, she suggested meeting you in the restaurant.’

  Gian held in a weary sigh. His restaurant was not a personal dining room for entertaining lovers. As soon as his dates started throwing around his title like confetti, or attempting to pull rank with his staff, or trying to get too familiar, it signalled the end for Gian. ‘Tell her I’ll be out shortly.’

  ‘Except you have Ariana Romano in Reception waiting to see you.’

  This time Gian could not hold in his sigh. His slate-grey eyes briefly shuttered as he braced himself for a mini-tornado, because it was always drama whenever she suddenly arrived.

  If Ariana felt it, she said it.

  ‘What does she want now?’

  ‘A private matter, apparently.’

  He kept his door open to her, given he was friends with her father Rafael and older brother Dante, in as much as Gian was friends with anyone. Growing up, he had been sent to Luctano each summer to stay with some distant aunt and her husband who, like his parents, hadn’t much wanted him around. Those summers had often been spent hanging out with the Romanos.

  Aside from the family ties, there were business connections too. Ariana was on the committee for the Romano Foundation Ball, which was held here at La Fiordelise each year. In small doses Gian chose to tolerate her, yet she was somewhat of an irritant. Rather like heavily scented jasmine in the flower arrangement in the foyer, or when lilies were left out just a little too long. Ariana had clung and irritated long after she had left and now, on a Friday evening, he had to deal with her in person.

  ‘Bring her through then,’ Gian said. ‘Oh, and then take Svetlana through to the Pianoforte Bar to wait for me there...’

  And there he would end their...liaison.

  At thirty-five, Gian was considered one of Italy’s most eligible bachelors.

  His wealth and dark brooding looks were certainly a factor, but Gian was no fool and was aware that his title was coveted. He was the Duke of Luctano, even thoug
h his family had left the Tuscan hillsides generations ago and he had been born and raised in Rome. Or, rather, Gian had raised himself, for his hedonistic parents had had no time or inclination for their son.

  Gian was, in fact, Italy’s most ineligible bachelor for he had no interest in marriage or settling down and always stated up front with women that, apart from a handful of lavish dates, they would go no further than bed.

  Gian had long ago decided that the De Luca lineage would end with him.

  His sex life—Gian had never so much as contemplated the word ‘love’—was rather like the stunning brass revolving doors at the entrance to La Fiordelise—wealth and beauty came in, was spoiled and pampered for the duration, but all too soon was ejected back out into the real world. Svetlana’s behaviour was nothing unexpected: she had shown her true colours to his PA, and that was that.

  They all did in the end.

  Gian was jaded rather than bitter, and more than ready to get through this meeting with Ariana and then deal swiftly with Svetlana. So much so that he didn’t bother to step into the luxury suite behind his office to freshen up for a night at Teatro dell’Opera; the gorgeous box with its pink-lined walls would remain empty tonight.

  As would the luxurious suite behind his office.

  His lovers never got so much as a toe in the door of his private apartment at La Fiordelise, for Gian was intensely private.

  He sat drumming his fingers silently on his large black walnut desk, waiting for Ariana to arrive. But then, on a wintry and gloomy January evening, it was as if a vertical sunrise stepped into his office. Ariana’s long black hair was slicked back into a low bun and she wore a suit and high heels. Except it was no ordinary suit. It was orange. The skirt sat just above the knee and the no doubt bespoke stockings were in exactly the same shade, as were the velvet stilettoes and large bag she carried over her shoulder. On most people the outfit would look ridiculous, but on pencil-thin Ariana it looked tasteful and bright...like a streak of burnt gold on the horizon heralding a new day.