Chiara shot to her feet. âYouâre disgusting!â
âYou know, it took me a while, but I finally figured it out. This get-up. The clothes, the hair, the donât-touch-me all but painted on your foreheadâit was all for me, wasnât it?â
She swung away. His hands fell hard on her shoulders and he spun her to him. He wasnât smiling anymore; his face was hard, his eyes cold.
âThe real Chiara Cordiano is the one I kissed in that car.â
âYou are pazzo! Crazy! Let go of me. Let go ofââ
Rafe bent his head and kissed her. It was a stamp of masculine power and intent, and when she tried to twist away he caught her face between his hands, taking, demanding, furious with her for the lies, furious with himself for falling for themâ¦
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 sonsâhe has a mission
for each to help him clear his conscience.
His sons are proud and determined,
but they will do their dutyâthe tasks they undertake will change their lives for ever! They areâ¦
THE ORSINI BROTHERS
Darkly handsomeâproud and arrogantThe perfect Sicilian husbands! by Sandra Marton
RAFFAELE: TAMING HIS TEMPESTUOUS VIRGIN
October 2009
DANTE: CLAIMING HIS SECRET LOVE-CHILD
December 2009
RAFFAELE ORSINI prided himself on being a man who was always in control. There was no doubt that his ability to separate emotion from logic was one reason heâd come this far in life.
Rafe could look at a relatively nondescript investment bank or financial corporation and see not what it was but what it could be, given time and money and, of course, the expert guidance he and his brothers could provide. They had created Orsini Brothers only five years ago but they were already an incredible success in the high-stakes world of international finance.
Theyâd always been incredibly successful with beautiful women.
The brothers shared the dark good looks of their mother and the rapier-sharp intellect of their father, whoâd both immigrated to the States from Sicily decades before. Unlike their old man, theyâd put their talents into lawful pursuits, but there was a dangerous edge to them that worked to their advantage in bedrooms as well as boardrooms.
It had done so today, when Rafe had outbid a Saudi prince for the purchase of a venerable French bank the Orsinis had wanted for a very long time. He, Dante, Falco and Nicolo had celebrated with drinks a couple of hours ago.
A perfect day, on its way to becoming a perfect eveningâ¦
Until now.
Rafe stepped from the lobby of his mistressâs apartment buildingâhis former mistressâs apartment building, he thought coldlyâdeclined the doormanâs offer of a taxi and dragged in a deep breath of cool autumn air. He needed to calm down. Maybe the walk from Sutton Place to his Fifth Avenue penthouse would do it.
What was it with women? How could they say something at the start of an affair even when they damned well didnât mean it?
âI am completely dedicated to my career,â Ingrid had said in that sexy Germanic purr of hers after the first time theyâd gone to bed. âYou need to know that, Rafe. I am not at all interested in settling down, so if you areââ
Him? Settle down? He still remembered how heâd laughed and rolled her beneath him. The perfect woman, heâd thought as he began making love to her again. Gorgeous. Sexy. Independentâ¦
Yeah. Right.
His cell phone rang. He yanked it from his pocket, glared at the number on the screen and dumped the thing back into his jacket. It was Dante. The last thing he wanted was to talk to one of his brothers. The image in his head was still too fresh. Ingrid, opening the door. Ingrid, not wearing something slinky and sophisticated for their dinner reservations at Per Se but wearing, insteadâ¦What? An apron? Not the serviceable kind his mother wore but a thing that was all ruffles and lace and ribbons.
Ingrid, smelling not of Chanel but of roast chicken.
âSurprise,â sheâd trilled. âIâm making dinner tonight!â
She was? But she had no domestic skills. Sheâd told him that. Laughed about it.
Not tonight. Tonight sheâd walked her fingers up his chest and whispered, âIâll bet you didnât know I could cook, liebling.â
Except for the liebling, it was a line heâd heard before. It made his blood run cold.
The scene that played out next had been all too predictable, especially her shrill accusations that it was time to take their relationship to a new level and his blurting out, âWhat relationship?â
Rafe could still hear the sound of whatever it was sheâd thrown at him hitting the door as he exited.
His cell phone rang again. And again, until finally he cursed, hauled the damned thing from his pocket and flipped it open.
âWhat?â he barked.
âAnd good evening to you, too, bro.â
Rafe scowled. A woman walking toward him veered away.
âI am not in the mood for games, Dante. You got that?â