The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni: The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride
Innocence. Rivals. NotoriousAn inexperienced English rose – at the Italian count’s mercy! Much is expected of the new Conte di Castelfino – not least marriage and an heir. So it could almost be seen as fate that this English girl has arrived – naïve, nervous and at his command!To seal the deal that would put Moretti Motors back on top, Antonio Moretti would do whatever it took – even seduce attorney Nathalie Vallerio, his family’s rival. He’d have the ice queen melting!When devilishly handsome Giovanni Boselli sees prim and proper Emily strolling the streets of Rome, he begins to undress her with his eyes! Em came to Rome for business, but her admirer is the notorious heir to the Boselli fortune…
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The
Italians Rico, Antonio & Giovanni
The Hidden Heart
of Rico Rossi
Kate Hardy
The Moretti
Seduction
Katherine Garbera
The Boselli Bride
Susanne James
Table of Contents
The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi
Kate Hardy
KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history, she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!
Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com.
I dedicate my fiftieth romance to Gerard—
who always believed in me—with all my love
‘UM, MI scusi?’ Ella dredged up the little Italian she’d learned from the phrasebook as she stood at the hotel’s reception desk. ‘I think I have a sightseeing tour booked this morning?’
‘Sì, Signora Chandler. With me.’
Ella’s jaw almost dropped as she turned around to see who’d spoken. This couldn’t be her tour guide, surely? The man looked more like a model for a perfume ad. He was tall, with slightly dishevelled dark hair held back from his eyes by a pair of sunglasses, dark eyes with unfairly long lashes, and the most sinful mouth she’d ever seen.
He spoke perfect English, with the slightest, sexiest hint of an accent. And she was going to have to keep her libido on an extremely tight leash. No doubt the man was used to English tourists who were too full of hormones melting at his feet and he knew how to deal with them kindly; all the same, Ella didn’t want to make a fool of herself. She’d already done that quite enough, this past year.
‘I, um, buongiorno’ She held out her hand.
When he took it, it felt as if her temperature had just gone up five degrees.
This was crazy. How could she possibly react like this to a complete stranger—a man she’d only just met and knew nothing about, other than that he was an employee of the hotel where she was staying?
Not that he was wearing a uniform like the other staff. Instead, he wore a crisp white shirt, the neck unbuttoned far enough to show that there was a light sprinkling of hair on his chest and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, teamed with stone-coloured chinos and boat shoes that would be comfortable for a long day’s walking tour of the city. Casual, and yet utterly, utterly stylish, as only the Italians could be.
Ella’s best friend Julia would immediately dub him ‘sex on legs’. And she’d be right on the money. He was gorgeous.
‘Are you ready, Signora Chandler?’ he asked politely.
No, not in a million years. ‘Of course,’ she fibbed, forcing herself to sound as professional as she would to one of her clients.
‘I’m Rico,’ he said.
Why did her tongue feel as if someone had glued it to the roof of her mouth? ‘Uh—Ella,’ she responded, hating the fact that she sounded so pathetic and gauche.
‘Ella.’ Her name sounded like a caress, the way he said it.
Help. She really needed to remind herself that she was twenty-eight, not seventeen. And she knew only too well that charm like his was all surface and no substance. Been there, done that and worn the T-shirt to shreds.
‘Shall we go?’
‘Sure.’ She gave him her best attempt at a sensible smile.
‘So this is your first time in Rome, and you want a tour of the major sights, sì?’
‘Ancient Rome, the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain,’ she confirmed.
‘Bene. Then we’ll start with the Colosseum. Apart from the fact that it’s the nearest site to the hotel, the queues are relatively short at this time of day.’
She followed him out of the hotel and resisted the urge to pinch herself. She, Ella Chandler, was actually in Rome—The Eternal City. The place she’d wanted to visit for years, though they’d never been able to afford a holiday when she was small; by the time she was earning enough to pay her way, her friends had talked her into going somewhere else with them. This time, she was pleasing herself. Visiting the place that had captured her imagination as a child, far more than tales of princesses and castles.
