The Italian Proposal: His Virgin Acquisition / Her Little White Lie

“I assume you’ve had contracts drawn up?” he asked.

She glanced at her briefcase. “Yes.” She’d had them drafted as soon as she’d found the loophole in her father’s contracts.

He smiled sardonically. “It’s necessary that we discuss precisely what each of us expects from this union before anyone signs anything.”

“All right,” she said slowly. She studied the layout of her shoebox apartment. Papers covered most surfaces. It was a very orderly mess; everything was stacked neatly and organized. The kitchen and living area served as her office, and since visitors were rare she usually left everything out rather than sticking it back into neat little folders. “We can work at the coffee table.” She gestured to the low table in the middle of the living room.

She bent and picked up a stack of documents and moved them to the large metal filing cabinet in the corner. When she turned, Marco was leafing through one of the binders she’d left on the table.

He looked up at her, his dark eyes keen. “Your business plan?” She nodded and watched, feeling tense for some reason, as he skimmed the pages. “You have some very good ideas,” he said finally, setting the black book back in its spot.

A flush of pleasure crept through her traitorous body. “Yes. I think I can double the profits inside of two years just by implementing basic technologies. There haven’t been a lot of advances at Chapman’s in the past few years. My father isn’t the most modern of men.”

Marco gave her a wry smile. “So I gathered.”

She rushed on as if he hadn’t said anything, the fire and excitement burning in her now. “I want to set up a website with online ordering. I also think the way the warehouses and call centers are run could be streamlined for greater efficiency and lower operating costs.”

Her heart was beating a little faster, as it always did when she talked about the company. The man sitting on her couch had nothing to do with it.

“Very good.” To his credit he didn’t sound surprised, but still it made her feel defensive.

“Thank you. I’m actually pretty smart, you know.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I graduated from high school two years early, and I was at the top of my class at Harvard.”

“And look at all you have to show for it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is that an insult?”

“Only if you’re unhappy with what you have to show for it.” And, judging by his critical expression, he thought she should be.

“Hey! He tells jokes,” she said balefully.

“I’d do a song and dance but…I know where my talents are best served.”

“And, as you know, sticking to what you’re good at is the key to success.”

He nodded, his hard features serious. “That and perseverance.”

She would be shocked if Marco De Luca had ever had to practice much perseverance. He seemed like the kind of man who’d had everything handed to him in life—mostly because she couldn’t imagine that very many people were brave enough to deny him anything. And even if they were brave enough, he was a very charismatic man. He drew people to him. She was sure he was very good at getting what he wanted, using honey or vinegar.

“So, what is it that you hope to get from our arrangement?” Marco asked.

“I want exactly what I said upfront. I want my father’s company. Nothing more or less.”

“You’re an ambitious woman, Elaine. I find it hard to believe that you would be content with just your father’s company when you could try and obtain so much more.”

“Why? You think because I’m a woman that my highest end goal is to just marry some rich guy and spend my days lunching and shopping? I respect myself far too much to have my happiness be determined by a husband or anyone else.”

Her own mother had been pathetic that way. Chasing after men in an attempt to gain the attention of an indifferent husband, searching for some sort of acceptance and validation at the hands of others. Elaine was making her own way, her own success. She certainly wasn’t going to become the kind of simpering female her mother had been.

She’d worked so hard to distance herself from that sort of behavior. Ironic that one small rumor about her and her direct supervisor at Stanley Winthrop had undone every ounce of her work. Marco had been right about reputations: they were difficult to build up but so very easy to tear down.

A snide comment made from a co-worker she’d dated briefly, who’d taken offense at the fact that she hadn’t jumped at the chance to sleep with him, had spread amongst other jealous interns until it had somehow blossomed into its own entity. She’d been sick when it had finally reached her. The story was that she’d been having illicit sex with her very nice, very married boss. And the man who had relayed it to her had gleefully given her all the graphic details that he’d heard.

It had been indescribably painful, knowing that someone she’d cared about, someone she’d kissed, had said such awful things about her, had set out to ruin her because she wouldn’t hop into bed with him. She’d avoided men since then. No dates. And she honestly hadn’t had many before that. Which was why, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin. Which was fine with her. Hormonal awakenings had kind of passed her over. Until recently.

Marco settled on the couch, his dark eyes trained on her. “Just as well that you feel that way, as I have no intention of being tied down by a wife. Not permanently, at least.”

“At least we agree on that point.” She had a feeling it might be their last agreement of the evening.

“And we need to agree on another one. You cannot get pregnant. If you do, you forfeit the company, and you can forget any sort of financial allowance from me. I don’t want a wife, and I definitely don’t want diaper duty.”

She blinked, shocked by the words that had just come out of his mouth. “I thought we’d already established that I wasn’t going anywhere near your bedroom during the course of this…this marriage. And, seeing as you and I both know it isn’t the stork that brings babies, I think fatherhood is the last thing you have to worry about.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, the last thing you have to worry about with me. I can’t comment on behalf of your other lady-friends.”

“I always practice safe sex.”

It was the absolute truth. Marco had no intention of becoming some woman’s meal ticket for eighteen years, and he was totally scrupulous in his sexual practices for both the sake of his health and his checkbook. But that didn’t mean that some of his mistresses hadn’t tried to find a way around the precautions. He’d caught one woman with an open box of condoms and a needle, and he’d watched as she’d put a tiny puncture in each plastic packet before putting them neatly back into the box.

Then there had been the woman who’d tried to pass another man’s baby off as his. Never mind that she’d been eight weeks along and he’d only known her for two.

He was well familiar with the female mind and how it worked. Financial security and wealth was the highest goal for the vast majority of the fairer sex. His own mother had prized it above everything, even her two children.

“Well, you won’t be practicing any sort of sex with me,” she said, twin spots of color high on her cheekbones.

Her prim exterior amused him—especially knowing what he did about her. She made for a very intriguing challenge.

“What exactly are your other terms and conditions?” she said tartly, as if reading the tenor of his thoughts.

“Simple. I’m only agreeing to this for the benefit of my company. I need to be sure that I’ll be gaining much more than I would lose by forfeiting Chapman Electronics. That means I need you on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

Elaine didn’t like the sound of that, although the odd fluttering in her stomach seemed to indicate otherwise. “What am I on call for?”

“Business functions, personal dinners. Whatever I might need my wife for.”

“What about my job…my life?”

“I thought the company was the most important thing in your life.”

Desire burned in her chest. Desire to prove herself to her father, to everyone. “It is.”

“Then that means for the next twelve months I’m your number one priority. I’m in negotiations right now with James Preston. He’s selling one of his resort properties in Hawaii, but he doesn’t want to turn it over to someone who might turn his nice family vacation spot into some debauched spring break hangout.”

“Which is why you need a wife,” she said, feeling triumphant.

The corners of his sexy mouth twitched with humor. “It’s why a wife will be useful to me, yes.”

“So I’m supposed to be evidence of your transformation from playboy to doting husband?”

“Something like that.”

Oddly, she felt a little indignant for Marco. His personal life had nothing to do with what a good businessman he was. Apparently not even men were exempt from the archaic viewpoints of others. Not that she condoned the way Marco treated women, but it was still separate from how he ran his business.

“So it seems like we need each other,” she said.

“It isn’t a necessity for me. I want the resort just as I want to experience a profit increase, but you’re the only one who really needs this arrangement. Don’t forget that.”

“You mean I should remember that when you pull me out of work in the middle of the day and drag me off to some art gala at which you expect me to play trophy wife?”

A slow grin spread across his face. Her heart beat a little bit faster. “Something like that.”

* * *

“What is this?” Elaine slapped the thick stack of documents onto Marco’s pristine walnut desk.

He didn’t look up from his computer screen. “The prenuptial agreement that my lawyer drafted. Or was that not made clear by the heading?”

“Oh, that was made perfectly clear. It’s this.” She picked the papers back up and rifled through them before setting them down again. “This is what I’m talking about!”

He flicked the offending lines a glance. “The infidelity clause?”

“Is that its official title?” She’d never been so angry in her entire life—and that included the day she’d confronted Daniel the Rat about the salacious rumors he’d spread about her. “If I have an affair I lose the company, yet there are absolutely no limitations imposed on you! It’s a blatant, unrepentant double standard!”

His dark eyes collided with hers; the heat of his gaze warmed her whole body. Rage was coursing through her veins, nearly blinding her with a red mist, and still he was making her body tingle with anticipation for something she didn’t even have a name for.

“If that’s how you see it.” He shrugged in a classically Latin manner. “I see it as protecting my…” he looked her over her in a way that made her squirm “…assets.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to disguise her stinging nipples. “I’m not your asset! We are supposed to be a team!”

He stood and rounded the desk, the sheer height and breadth of him as awe inspiring as it was intimidating. “No, Ms. Chapman, we are not a team. Do I need to remind you, yet again, that I’m the dominant party here? That means that you will do as I say.” He picked the prenuptial agreement up from his desk. “You will remain out of other men’s beds for the duration of our marriage. If you need sex, you get it from me. If there’s even a hint or rumor of impropriety on your part the company stays with the De Luca Corporation.”

She tried to fight the hot tide of embarrassment that washed through her. What was it about this man that rattled her so? “And what about you? You’re still free to do whatever you want?”

He nodded, his jaw fixed. “With whoever I want, as I recall.”

“That is the most disgusting double standard I have ever heard! You didn’t mention this a few days ago when we were discussing ‘terms and conditions’.”

“I’m simply covering every possible eventuality. I can’t afford to have my wife seen with other men. In a real marriage it would never happen. No woman runs around on me. And I don’t share.”

“Then neither do I. Enjoy the next twelve months of celibacy.”

“And you think you can resist me?”

She laughed. “No question.”

He hauled her to him, pressing her breasts against the muscled wall of his chest. “I don’t believe that.” His lips crashed down on hers, his tongue pushing past her lips and tangling with hers.

She couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to. She just wanted this moment, this heady, sensual moment, so far removed from her normal life.

He lowered his hands to her bottom and pulled her tightly against his body, pressing his erection against her belly. She gasped and moved against him, enjoying the electrifying sensations pulsing through her, exulting in the fact that he was as turned on as she was. That she had been the one to turn him on.

Her breasts ached for his touch, their shameless peaks announcing to him just how aroused she was. A pulse throbbed hard between her thighs. She wanted him. She wanted him to show her everything she’d never even cared to learn about. Everything she’d always steadfastly ignored about herself and about men.

She moved her hands over the muscles on his back, then around to his chest. He was so firm. So hot. So perfect. Just what a man should feel like. She wanted to feel his body without layers of clothing between them. She wanted… .

She pulled away from him and jumped back as if she’d been burned. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Her lips felt tight and swollen, her breathing was ragged, and she knew some of her hair had escaped the confines of her bun.

“There isn’t anything to be sorry about. We’re going to be married in two weeks’ time. We might as well sleep together. It would add to the convenience.”

It was the last part that kept her from saying yes. Without that scathing reminder that it would mean nothing to him she might have agreed. But there was no way she could view sex as casually as he did. She didn’t have the experience or the sophistication to treat it as a recreational activity. Combined with the fact that she simply didn’t have the time to devote to discovering her sexuality.

“I can’t do that. I don’t…I don’t see sex as a convenience.” She took a breath, trying to conjure up that steely businesswoman she knew lived inside her somewhere. “What I mean is, I don’t sleep around.”

Marco stared at her flushed face, her red lips, her eyes still dark from passion. She wanted him, even if she couldn’t admit it yet. Or perhaps she was holding out until she felt it was most advantageous for her to give in. “That’s fine. But the clause stays in. If you want sex, you get it from your husband.”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face neutral. “I don’t think I’ll be wanting any in the near future.”

He shrugged. “It’s up to you. I don’t have to coerce women into my bed.”

That was the absolute truth. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned him down—if there had ever been a time. He didn’t like it now. He liked it even less that his body seemed to have some sort of fixation on a woman who wasn’t fixated on him. It must be the novelty of it. It was unusual for him to have to pursue a woman. They came to him—frequently and easily. If he didn’t end up in bed with Elaine it would be easy enough to find someone else, seeing as there was nothing forbidding him from doing exactly that.

But the idea of Elaine being with another man while she was wearing his ring had made him see red. He had told the truth when he’d said he didn’t share. And in his mind marriage, even one of convenience, made her his. Old-fashioned and unenlightened, yes, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“You have an appointment with a bridal gown designer tomorrow at nine.”

“I have work,” she said sharply.

“I don’t care. The wedding takes priority right now.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Is this how it’s going to be, then? For the next twelve months you’re going to treat me like your personal doll?”

Marco shrugged. He seemed entirely unaffected by the kiss, and with her heartbeat still going erratically it irritated her.

“If that’s the way you want to look at it. Or you could simply view this as your newest job opportunity.”

“You know, you have a real talent for making me sound like a call girl.”

“And you have a real talent for wasting my time. If you want to see me, next time make an appointment.”

She drew up to her full height, but was careful not to get too close to him again. Desire and anger were still struggling for pride of place inside her. “I am your fiancée.”

“No. This is a business deal, as you’re so fond of pointing out, which makes you one of my business partners. Which means you make an appointment like they all do.”

She leaned all her weight onto one leg, pushed out her hip and settled her hand on it, in her best indignant pose. “And do you kiss all of your business partners the same way you did me?”

“If any of them looked like you, I might. As it is, I’ve never been tempted to try.”

It was difficult to decide whether to embrace anger at his sheer male arrogance, or enjoy the sneaky glow of feminine pleasure she got from his underhanded compliment. In the end, it was the anger that won out. “I see. So you decided that because I’m a woman you can just kiss me whenever you like?”

He moved toward her, his dark eyes blazing with fury and something more compelling. “No. I kissed you because I wanted to. And you wanted me to.”

“Your ego is impressive.” She took a step back. “I didn’t want you to kiss me. As you mentioned, this is a business deal, and I never mix business with my personal life.” At least she was certain she wouldn’t if she had a personal life.

The mockery in his smile told her he didn’t believe her for a moment. “I know that this is all an affront to your feminist sensibilities, but for the purposes of this deal I’m your boss. You will do as I say. You will sign the prenup, and you will meet with the wedding coordinator tomorrow morning to choose your wedding dress.”

Everything in her raged out of control. Her hormones were still on red alert from the kiss, and her temper had just about reached its breaking point. She sucked in a calming breath. This was where years of training kicked in. Where she played the game. This was business. You fought the battles you could win, not the ones you were destined to lose.

“And will you be attending this bridal gown extravaganza?”

“Absolutely not. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the gown before the wedding.”

“I would imagine that it’s bad luck for the marriage to have a predetermined end date,” she returned crisply.

He acknowledged her comment with a slight smile, then turned, walked back to his desk and settled behind it. Apparently she was dismissed.

She turned to go.

“Elaine?”

She stopped at the sound of that sweet, honey-coated voice saying her name, sending waves of sensation through her body. Well, wasn’t she one to dramatize?

“I hope you don’t have plans tonight.”

She turned and arched her eyebrow. “Would it matter if I did?”

“Certainly. I would feel bad for asking you to break them.”

“You most certainly would not.”

The left corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile. “You’re right. I wouldn’t at all. I have a dinner party that I’m expected to attend tonight and I need a date.”

“Did you misplace your little black book?”

He gave her a pained look. “I don’t have a black book.” He picked up his gleaming cellphone and waved it. “That would be old-fashioned.”

She felt her lips thinning into an unattractive line. “You’re straight out of the Dark Ages. A BlackBerry isn’t going to fix that.”

“Nice to know you hold me in such high regard, cara. Did you drive here?”

She eyed him warily. “No. I took a cab.”

“Perfect. You can ride with me.”

“And if I have plans?”

“Cancel them. As per our agreement,” he said.

“As per your demands.”

“If you like.” He seemed completely unconcerned by her anger, which only fanned the flame. “But I can hardly show up at this dinner without my new, highly publicized fiancée.”

“Just tell them your fiancée has a life, and doesn’t just hang on your arm professionally twenty-four hours a day.”

“Oh, they know you don’t do that. I’m sure they think you spend at least twelve hours wrapped around me in bed.”

She flushed, her vocal cords failing her. The images that were pinging through her brain were graphic, and much more intriguing than she’d like to admit.

She had done so well, burying any interest in the opposite sex beneath piles of ambition. Then she’d walked into Marco De Luca’s office and her long-ignored hormones had sprung to life and hadn’t left her alone since.

“In any case, I need you to play your part. This is business, remember?” He said the last part with a mocking edge to his voice.

“I won’t forget.”

* * *

The dinner party was hardly the intimate affair she’d imagined. There were at least two hundred of Manhattan’s most elite social movers in attendance, and it made it hard for her not to be grateful for the dress Marco’s efficient PA had provided for her at the last minute.

It was too short and too tight for her taste, but judging by the similarly bedecked Barbie dolls that were hanging on their date’s arms the look was par for the course.

Marco gave the stunning, reed-slim hostess a kiss on both cheeks before putting his hand on Elaine’s back and introducing her. “This is my fiancée, Elaine Chapman. Elaine, this is Caroline Vance. She’s the chairperson of the De Luca House charity.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook the other woman’s perfectly manicured hand, and held back the questions that were forming in her mind. Marco had never mentioned that he had a charity, but his fiancée would certainly know all about it. Well, a real fiancée would at any rate. She was clueless.

“Nice to meet you too.” Caroline smiled warmly. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when Marco would settle down. He’s always preferred life in the fast lane.” She shot Marco a teasing look. “I guess you’re merging into the carpool lane, huh?”

The smile on Marco’s face looked forced to Elaine, but Caroline didn’t seem to notice. “Yes. It was time. When I met Elaine I knew I couldn’t let her get away.”

“Welcome to the club. You’ll enjoy it.” She gave Marco’s arm a squeeze.

Marco paused and pulled his checkbook from his pocket, and filled in an amount that made Elaine’s eyes widen.

Caroline took the check from Marco’s hand, a broad smile on her pretty face. “He’s generous to a fault,” she said, her comment directed at Elaine.

Elaine smiled back, hoping she didn’t look as confused as she felt. “Yes, he is.”

Marco chuckled darkly as Caroline fluttered off to greet the next couple that was entering the ballroom. He took her arm and led her to a cluster of tables that were designed with intimacy in mind. They were small—so small that when she took her seat and Marco took his their knees brushed beneath the table. Her heart sputtered.

“All of the food, and all the prep work that went into the food was donated,” he explained. “The guests paid two hundred dollars for each plate. All of the proceeds will go to the De Luca House.”

She smiled. “That’s great. What is the charity for?”

A shadow passed over his face for a brief moment. “Homeless children. It’s an issue that’s close to my heart.”

She realized at that moment just how little she knew about the man sitting across from her. His background wasn’t exactly a mystery, but there hadn’t been a lot of information on his childhood either. She’d found out through her careful research that his father had been a wealthy Sicilian businessman who had moved his family to New York when Marco had been a young teenager. But between that event and his meteoric rise to success in the real estate industry and beyond she hadn’t been able to find any details about his life. She’d just assumed he’d been growing up. Now she wondered. Marco claimed he was a self-made man, which meant that he’d built his empire up without the aid of his father’s riches.