is one of Mills & Boonâs most popular and bestselling novelists. Her writing was an instant success with readers worldwide. Since her first book, Bittersweet Passion, was published in 1987, she has gone from strength to strength and now has over ninety titles, which have sold more than thirty-five million copies, to her name.
In this special collection, we offer readers a chance to revisit favourite books or enjoy that rare treasureâa book by a favourite writerâthey may have missed. In every case, seduction and passion with a gorgeous, irresistible man are guaranteed!
ANGELO RICCARDI climbed out of his limousine, a heavy-duty vehicle armoured with reinforced panels and bulletproof glass, built to withstand a rocket attack. The heat outside was relentless. His sunglasses screening his hard dark gaze from the bright Venezuelan sunlight, he ignored the uneasy chatter of the English intermediary sent to greet him at the airport. While he understood the manâs tension he was also irritated by it.
Angelo had not experienced fear since childhood and the shame of it had been beaten out of him. He had known loathing, rage and bitterness, but fear no longer had the power to touch him. His relentless rise to power and influence had featured in hundreds of magazines and newspaper features, but his birth and parentage had always been shrouded in a haze of uncertainty. When he was eighteen he had been told the truth about his ancestry. Any idealistic notions heâd had had died that same day when his chosen career had become a complete impossibility. With every successive year that had passed since then he had grown tougher, colder and more ruthless. He had used his brilliant intellect and razor-sharp instincts to build a huge business empire. That he had not had to break the law to become a billionaire was a harsh source of pride to him.
âThereâs a colossal security presence here,â his companion, Harding, muttered uneasily.
It was true, Angelo acknowledged. Armed guards were everywhere: on the rooftops of the ranch buildings, in every manicured clump of trees or bushes, their state of alert palpable. âIt should make you feel safe,â Angelo quipped.
âI wonât feel safe until Iâm back home again,â Harding confided, mopping his round, perspiring face.
âPerhaps this was not the job for you.â
He dealt Angelo a look of dismay. âBelieve me, I meant no offence. Iâm delighted to be of service.â
Angelo said nothing. He was surprised that such a man had been chosen to act as middleman in a secret meeting. But then, how many outwardly respectable men accepted the kind of undercover favours that forced them into uncomfortable repayments? He strode into the cool air-conditioned interior of the opulent ranch house where a lantern-jawed older man awaited him. Harding was dismissed like a lackey of no consequence, while Angelo was looked over and greeted with a level of respectful curiosity that bordered on awe.
âIt is a very great pleasure to meet you, Mr Riccardi,â the older man declared in Italian. âIâm Salvatore Lenzi. Don Carmelo is eager to see you.â
âHow is he?â
The other man grimaced. âHis condition is stable at present but itâs unlikely that he has more than a couple of months left.â
Lean, handsome features taut, Angelo nodded. He had thought long and hard before he had agreed to visit and the old manâs declining health had provided the spur. The infamous Carmelo Zanetti, head of one of the most notorious crime families in the world, was a stranger to him. Yet Angelo had never been able to forget that the same blood that ran in Carmelo Zanettiâs veins ran in his own.
The elderly man lay propped up in a hospital-style bed surrounded by medical equipment. His face was lined with ill health. Breathing stentorously, he feasted his clouded dark gaze on Angelo and sighed. âI canât tell you that you look like your mother because you donât. Fiorella was tinyâ¦â
Almost imperceptibly the inflexible cast of Angeloâs features softened, for his mother had shown him the only tenderness he had ever known. âSìâ¦â
âBut you have the look of my father and your own. Your parents were the Romeo and Juliet of their generation,â Don Carmelo recited with caustic humour. âA Sorello and a Zanetti, not a match made in heaven as far as either family was concerned and the bride and groom were at each otherâs throats within weeks of the wedding.â
âIs that why my mother ended up scrubbing floors for a living?â Angelo enquired smooth as glass.