Dedicated bachelors Rocco Mondelli, Christian Markos, Stefan Bianco and Zayed Al Afzal met and bonded at university, wreaking havoc amongst the female population. In the decade since graduating theyâve made their mark on the worlds of business and pleasure, becoming wealthy and powerful.
Marriage has never been something Rocco, Christian, Stefan or Zayed were ever after⦠But things change, and now theyâll have to do whatever it takes to get themselves to the church on time!
Yet nothing is as easy as it seems⦠and the women these four have set their sights on have plans of their own!
Your embossed invitation is in the mail and you are cordially invited to:
The marriage of
Rocco Mondelli and Olivia Fitzgerald April 2015
The marriage of
Christian Markos and Alessandra Mondelli May 2015
The marriage of
Stefan Bianco and Clio Norwood June 2015
The marriage of
Sheikh Zayed Al Afzal and Princess Nadia Amani July 2015
So RSVP and get ready to enjoy the pinnacle of luxury and opulence as the worldâs sexiest billionaires finally say âI doââ¦
CHAPTER ONE
CHRISTIAN MARKOS TIPPED the last of his champagne down his throat and immediately refilled his glass.
Heâd known today was going to be hard, but hadnât imagined quite how torturous it would be. Not even all the running around heâd done with Rocco that morning, in their seemingly desperate attempt to find the bride, had mitigated it.
Afterwards, heâd stood by the side of his closest friend on the happiest day of his life and all heâd been able to think was how deeply heâd betrayed him.
While Rocco had been exchanging his vows, Christian had been using all his willpower to stop his gaze flitting to Alessandra.
He was still fighting it.
Alessandra Mondelli: Roccoâs baby sister. A pretty child whoâd grown into a ravishingly beautiful woman. The one woman in the world who was totally off-limits.
Or should have been.
Attired in a long, sleeveless, silk mauve dress, with her glossy, dark-chestnut hair pulled back in a tight chignon, sheâd arrived by boat with the radiant bride, the spring sun beaming down on her golden skin.
In his eyes the chief bridesmaid outshone everyone, including the famous supermodel bride.
The last time heâd seen Alessandra sheâd been wearing a short, cream lace dress with black beading and a pair of black shoes so high heâd been amazed she could walk in them. But walk in them she had, beautifully, her delectable bottom swaying with every step. That was the last time heâd seen her clothed. The last time heâd seen her properly sheâd been burrowed naked under the bed covers in her apartment.
The wedding party had moved from the beautiful gardens by Lake Como and into the Villa Mondelli ballroom. The wedding dinner was over, the evening celebration about to start. Heâd made his best manâs speech and managed to raise some laughs from the other guests, especially Stefan and Zayed, whoâd substituted the speech heâd written with a bluer version. Instead of relaxing, knowing his job was done, Christian was on tenterhooks waiting for the music to strike up.
An American A-list starlet kept making eyes at him, a stunning woman with a body to die for. Just six weeks ago he would have been at her side like a shot. If not her, then one of the other gorgeous women littering this star-studded event already being labelled âwedding of the century.â Supermodels, lingerie models, singers... It was like being a child in a sweetshop.
If that were the case, then he must have diabetes, because none of the sweets looked remotely tempting.
Except one. The forbidden one.
How could he have allowed things to get so out of hand? He might flit from bed to bed but he never lost control of himself.
To have lost his control with Alessandra...
He could blame it on all the champagne theyâd drunk. He could blame it on a lot of things, but all the blame was on himself.
Alessandra had been vulnerable. Try as sheâd done to hide it, sheâd been a mess, grieving the loss of her grandfather, the man whoâd raised her since sheâd been a baby and whoâd been buried barely two weeks before.
Christian had dropped in at the House of Mondelli, the world-famous fashion house, on his way back from Hong Kong, expecting to take Rocco out for a night on the tiles, maybe spend the weekend together on his Italian friendâs yacht. But Rocco had been in New York and heâd bumped into Alessandra, whoâd insisted he take her out instead. Under normal circumstances he would have made his excuses and got back in his jet to fly on to Athens. If he hadnât caught the desperation in her beautiful honey-brown eyes, he would have done just that, not found himself recalling how sheâd barely been able to stand during the funeral service.