Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance (3 page)

“I’ve got dibs on her maiden voyage—”

From the courtyard down below, the
Bouzouki
musicians tuned up for the evening entertainment, and mouthwatering aromas of
souvlaki
cooked over an open grill wafted to her. She grabbed her middle; she for one would not be dining under the stars tonight.

The distraction eclipsed his words and she crinkled her brow, trying to make sense of what she heard.

“A costly investment, I’ll be paying—”

Her eyes flew open wide.
Me?

The fluttering of curtain allowed her glimpses of the million-dollar ocean view, but her attention was glued on her husband.

“After I break her in, you can have her—”

“How dare you—” Nina made to jump up, jostled her insides, and fell back, closing her eyes, and pressing her mouth tight. She would not be sick. Would not be sick. Not now. Not in front of him.

“—if the price is right.”

Sweat poured from her pores, soaking her wrinkled cotton dress…her wedding dress. What had she gotten herself entangled in?

“I’ll sell—”

Sell her?

“—to the highest bidder.”

She began to pant, then a whiz of sound fizzed between her teeth, and she lifted her lashes a fraction, snaring him in her focus.

Tall, dark and gorgeous…deceptive—dangerous.

Worse than she imagined. Yet, he looked so calm and cool, fresh in his white open necked shirt and denims he wore for their ‘I do’s’ compared to her—a ragged mass of guilt ridden nerves. He whisked her off so quickly after the ceremony at New York City Hall, she’d had no time to change, her one travel bag already in the trunk of the Bentley.

“By midnight she’ll be purring beneath my hands.”

His words iced her skin.

Something was wrong; something was very uncool, but she was too zoned out from the intercontinental flight, the emotional see-saw of the wedding—not what a girl dreamed of—the heat, and her queasy stomach, to figure it out.

“Yeah, I can handle her.” A guffaw. “Should be an easy ride.”

Nina seethed, a flush on her skin making her temperature rise and her ire about to explode.

“Naa.”

An ominous silence.

“If you’re willing to pay, she’ll play—”

A chuckle.

It sent shivers crawling up her spine.

“I’ll guarantee she’ll be a real fine piece of a—”

Nina’s hand flew to her throat, the other to her abdomen, her heart hammering. Dear God, what had she done? This was a snow job on her by none other than the king of con. She’d fallen for his duplicity and been fool enough to marry him. She cringed, gulping down bile rising in her throat. The acid taste curdled her stomach, and she tottered to her feet, weaving her way to the bathroom.

“Hey, you alright?”

The sounds from within must have alerted him, for he was there, knocking on the half open door. And her, with her head half in the toilet.

If the floor caved in and carried her out to sea, she’d be ever so grateful.

No such luck.

He loomed over her, a slight shift of his sneakers visible from her peripheral vision. Could it be that Mr. High and Mighty Sloan was uneasy about something? That gave her a lift, but it was short lived as another wave of nausea assaulted. She waved him back with her outstretched hand. He deserved a tongue-lashing, which she couldn’t give in her present position. She heard the sink faucet running then—

“Here.” He handed her a damp washcloth.

She mumbled her thanks and waved him out. “Go.”

Cade squinted at her bent-over figure, zeroing in on her shapely tush outlined beneath the cotton material of her dress stretched taut and riding high on her slender thighs. A beauty mark teased. He paused, and then made his exit. “Be right here if you want—”

She extended a leg and booted the door shut in his face.

The toilet flushed.

Ten minutes later, Nina stepped from the bath and shrieked, trying to cover her naked body with her hands. “What ’re you doing here?”

“Come ‘ere.” Cade held open a towel for her, his voice sounding gruffer than he intended. “Don’t want you catching cold.”

“Concern for me?” She snatched the towel from his hand and wrapped it around herself.

She must be feeling better, he mused, plunking down on the toilet lid.

“You’re an expensive investment.” There, that’d get the ball back in his court pronto. Couldn’t afford to be going soft. Better she thought him the s.o.b.
the media pegged him. He curled his mouth in distaste…in the end he’d appear to be exactly that, maybe even worse, in her eyes. He shrugged, reminding himself; collateral damage.

She laughed, a dry sound that annoyed the heck outta him. He couldn’t figure out why, and Cade Sloan always had answers.

She squinted up at him. “Which you haven’t paid for yet.” She swept her glasses from the sink ledge and propped them on her nose.

“After I’ve sampled the goods—” He paused, allowing his words to tell their own story. “We’ll cash out in the morning.” He wiggled his brows. “Divvy up the loot.” He inclined his head toward a manila envelope on the coffee table, barely visible from her vantage point. “Wedding gift.” His words crackled with cynicism. “Delivered when you were in the shower. The other half will arrive tomorrow.”

“Your half or mine?”

“Very funny.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and, about to smack him with a smart retort, she keeled over
.
He leaped up and caught her in his arms. For a heartbeat, she struggled against him, and then eased in his embrace. She smelled fresh…of soap, shampoo and woman. Different than most women whose heavy perfumes nearly knocked him out. A chuckle threatened, and he locked it in his throat. He scooped her up and took her to bed.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she conked out. He allowed his gaze to travel from the damp hair framing her face to her smooth shoulders, pausing at her cleavage barely visible above the towel still wrapped around her body. Skimming her thighs, he noted the slight bend to her legs on the bedding, the curve of her calf, her slim ankles, the arch of her foot, her hot pink polished
toenails. She had one arm sprawled over her head and the other bent, her hand cushioning her cheek. Her golden tipped lashes brushed her cheeks and the sprinkle of freckles on her nose made his lips twitch a smile. It vanished when he focused on her mouth. Palest pink. He could imagine it tasting sweet.

He shook his head. A sex kitten if he ever saw one. And he’d seen plenty
.
Logistically, with his work schedule it’d been impossible to do more than enjoy the view. A heavy sigh shoved its way from his belly, and he scratched his chin with his knuckles. He had his morals…and his instincts.

He could smell a bad rap a mile off. Made it a rule to stay clear of women who showed their claws, became too possessive and made demands—who would want to change him, complicating his life.

And for that, the newshounds coined him a callous ‘love ’em ’n leave’em, s.o.b.’

A hollow sound burst from deep inside him.

Nina stirred, a moan which was almost a purr feathered from her lips.

He snapped out of his turbulent thoughts and focused on her. She’d catch a cold if she stayed in that damp towel. Gently, he removed her glasses and set them on the bedside table. Unfurling the towel from around her body, he got the breath knocked out of him before he gathered himself and pulled the covers over her body. He touched her cheek in a fleeting caress and stepped away.

He wouldn’t be sampling his high priced ‘investment’ tonight.

A series of chills grazed his nape, but he dismissed them as the effect of the night breeze drifting in from the balcony. He rubbed the back of his neck, and chuckled at his foolishness, his gaze fixed on the ugly duckling turned swan in his bed.

His jaw tightened, and he felt himself harden.

He drew in a deep breath, then another, before heading for the shower.

Tomorrow night. He’d bring this deal to a close.

One year later…

It had taken Cade Sloan a year to the day to track down his gold-digging ex-spouse. Lil’ Nina McLowsky had conned the con. He slid his powerful length from the limo and dismissed his chauffeur’s attempt to open the door for him with a curt hand. He grimaced. Technically, she wasn’t quite his ex yet, but she’d be soon enough. Right after he collected his dues.

“Meet me here in one hour.” He glanced at the hot pink
Fantasy
Secrets
sign splashed above the boutique’s entrance and curled his lip in a silent snarl.

“
Si, Signore
Sloan.” The chauffeur tipped his hat, sat back in the driver’s seat, drove past the Fountain of Neptune next to the
Palazzo Vecchio
, and eased his way toward
Via Cassio
; the limo appearing out of place amidst the
Vespas
, a popular mode of transport for the Florentine locals.

Cade turned to bridge the two steps to the storefront, when the door swung open, giving him a view of the shapely backside of a blonde
.

A muscle jarred his jaw.

It was her. Even with hair several shades lighter, he’d know her anywhere.

“
Mille grazie
, Julie
for locking up today.” She propped a pair of sunglasses on her crown, whirled around, her shoulder handbag swinging, and smacked into him.

“Steady there,” he muttered, grabbing her shoulders. The connection between them sizzled through his shirt and straight into his chest, but the padlock of ice around his heart made it fizzle to a vapor.

“Oops,
mi scusi
—” She glanced up and color drained from her face. She swayed on her stiletto heels and his hands tightened over her arms. “You?”

“Me.” The one word shot from his mouth like a bullet in the air between them.

Her coke bottle-thick glasses had disappeared. Her lashes heavy laden with mascara framed her baby blues, now on alert. Her pink-painted mouth unsmiling. He shifted his gaze lower and got a boot in the groin. Her summer dress molded her every curve—the swell of her breasts, the accent of her waist, the roundness of her hips. Her legs were bare, tanned, sexy. He smothered a grunt. Her hair was tied back with a pink ribbon, flowing down her shoulders, and he remembered how silky— No. He didn’t want to go there. Strictly out of bounds.

“We’re closed.” Nina pushed him aside, her golden hoop earrings jangling, and moved one step up to gain the extra height to look him in the eye. At five foot two, every inch counted. What she glimpsed in
his golden-brown gaze knocked her back and she seized the doorjamb for support. Her pulse pounded, and she licked her lips.

He zeroed in on her mouth, and his Adam’s apple moved. A long, hot beat, and he shrugged.

“Haven’t come for your…er…services—”

The crack of her hand across his cheek made her palm vibrate, but he barely flinched, except to enclose her wrist between his iron hard fingers.

“I’ve come for you.” He coiled his lip in a near sneer. “To collect a debt owed.”

“We’re history.” She lowered her Roberto Cavalli sunglasses over her eyes and made to go past him.

“Right after you pay up, lil’ darlin’.”

“I owe you nothing.”

He yanked her hard against his chest, swooped down and stole a kiss. “That’s a hint of what you owe, in addition to the million and a half you slipped out with.” Deliberately, he removed her sunglasses and hooked them in the pocket of his shirt.

She went to snatch them back, and he leaned away from her reach.

“Uh, uh.” He clicked his tongue. “Must’ve cost a euro or two, mmm?”

Oh, but he was a horrible man. How could she have imagined she’d felt anything for him but loathing—her eyes strayed to the smattering of hair on his chest visible by his half unbuttoned shirt, and excitement grazed the fury sizzling through her. Must be the shock of seeing him again, she reasoned.

“You were going to double cross me,” she accused, shoving him back. He allowed a small space between them, but still anchored her hand with his.

He arched a thick brow. “Really.”

“I heard you plotting—” her voice broke and she turned away.

“And so you decided to double deal me first.”

Good gosh, he hadn’t even denied it. She blew a stray hair from her eye, batted an eyelash and hoped her contact lens stayed in place. Perspiration glazed her skin and made her mini dress stick to her thighs. Her heart flipped and her stomach flopped. She had to get away from him quickly.

“This is insane.” She spun around and faced him. “You paid me to marry you. I did. Now we’re done.”

“Sure thing, babe, right after you deliver on your promises.” He laughed, a hollow sound that seemed to ricochet off the terracotta roofs of the neighborhood
.
“Something about to love, honor—”

“I don’t owe you—”

He tilted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. “—and obey.”

She gaped at him in disbelief, and then blinked a rapid tempo. “I upheld my end of the bargain.”

“Hardly.”
Cade released her hand, and shoved his in the pocket of his Armani pants, the empty feeling in his gut rankling. “You skipped out on me from the hotel in Ayia Napa before I cracked an eye open in the morning”

She gulped, and he noted the motion. He liked that and, about to cut to the chase, he paused. Her features had a pinched look about them, even though it was August, and in Florence, Italy, that came with a heat wave. He must be having this effect on her. Good. He felt a jab to his conscience, but he ignored the warning.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Now there’s a loaded question.”

Her eyes flashed blue flame. “I’m not going to play your game.” She took a step to walk by him, and he sidestepped her, blocking her path.

“Nor I yours, madam.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I married you and—”

Church bells rang from the campanile of the Duomo in the heart of the city, slightly off cue, but filled the air with a sweet sound.

“And?”

“And nothing,” she murmured.

“Exactly.”

A sigh struggled from deep inside her. “What is it you want, Cade?”

“You.”

She started, and her hand fluttered to her throat. “No.” Shaking her head, she stepped away from him, and that only goaded him more.

“Yes.” He advanced a step closer, and a wayward gust sent her subtle perfume his way. He balled his other hand behind his back and allowed the sensual feel to wash over him. Long ago, he promised himself to never let a woman, any woman get under his skin, and he’d done just fine until Ms. Straitlaced here landed in his life. A mirthless snort sounded from him. “And the loot you pilfered from under my nose.”

Her betrayal had hit a raw nerve…it nicked him more than he realized. He hadn’t tried to analyze why, but she’d done exactly what his mother had done, hadn’t she?

Ditched him.

At first, he had debated whether to write her Nina as a bad business
investment and cut his losses, or pursue to recover all. But when an unidentified source
hinted his espoused might be connected in some way with his business losses, it had him crunching nails between his molars. He was getting close to nabbing the perpetrator, but first, he had to know the truth about her.

The speed of the marriage had left a prenup in limbo, and she’d used it to her advantage. He pursed his mouth, shaking his head. When she had skipped out with the cash the day after their wedding, she cut him right in the jugular of his company’s financial hemorrhage.

Betrayal.

Even now it was still painful to think about.

“You will return every penny.” Ahh, revenge was sweet. “Plus interest.”

Nobody made a fool of Cade Sloan and got away with it. And certainly not one lil’ Nina McLowsky…Sloan. He’d had to do some quick talking when he hadn’t produced the bride, but the marriage license had given him a grace period to unveil her to the backer. Having just grazed by from the financial cyclone that had nearly whipped him into the dust, he was pumped to get the guy, but first he’d deal with her. Would she inadvertently lead him to the hacker?

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Too bad.” His words were chips of ice.

“I-I-I sunk it all in my business and—”

“Yes?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not an unreasonable man—”

She snorted, but somehow on her it came out sexy. Something that only aggravated him more.

“I suggest you think of an ulterior payment plan then.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide, suspicious. “Or?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “You must’ve heard that this block adjacent to the
Piazzale Michelangelo
is due for demolition—”

“I was just on my way to the city—” Then, it dawned on her, and she paled. “You’re the one gouging this historic…”

“Condo development, rezoning, modern trends in architecture—”

“All for a buck—”

“Something you like plenty of.”

She glared at him, her lashes fluttering and betraying her inner angst.

“You care nothing about destroying people’s lives, livelihoods, landmarks--”

The Vasari Corridor connecting the Palazzo Medici to the Palazzo Vecchio, the shops on stilts along the Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi & Academia museums boasting Michelangelos, Leonardo Di Vincis and Botticelli’s masterpieces flashed through her mind.
“You’re an insensitive boor.”

Her dart zinged his heart, but he toughened his jaw, appearing exactly as she coined him. “If I don’t do it, someone else will.”

“And that makes it alright?

“Right?” he bit out. “You’re talking to me about what’s right and wrong?”

“I won’t let you do it.”

He chuckled. “I don’t see how you’re going to stop me.” A telling pause. “Unless—”

Nina squirmed, feeling like she’d been blasted back a year…back into the clutches of one Cade Sloan, the playboy of Manhattan. Except this was Florence, Italy, her turf; but even with her Italian designer shoes and haute couture armor, he still rattled her.

A sigh shot from deep inside her, and for a moment she got lost in her thoughts. In the year she’d been here, the city had welcomed her and in no time, she felt at home and part of the community. She’d been enchanted by the city and its people, their culture and their history.

The palazzos, basilicas, museums—a smile quivered on her lips—and the famous Florentine Café Giubbe Rossi in the Piazza della Repubblica where she strolled to get her mocha cappuccino, viewing the luxury brands of fashion, footwear, handbags, fragrances of Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Prada, Chanel—all an inspiration to
build her business.

Starting a new life in the City of Gold had been both scary and exciting, but for once Nina had felt like she had control of her life.

“Unless, what?” she spit back, the Amazon rising inside her.

Here, she thought she’d be so far from his sphere, he’d not give her a second thought, let alone trek after her. She squinted up at him. Well, she wouldn’t let one Cade Sloan bulldoze what she worked so hard to build. She’d battle it out with him. And if she got some cuts and bruises in the process—her hand flew to her heart—the brunt of the injury would be there.

“Unless you’re willing to negotiate,” he said, dangling a carrot. “And even with that” –he delivered his shot— “there’s no guarantee the sledgehammer won’t divert and land smack center on your boutique.”

A groan ripped from her mouth before she could bite it back. “You’re a controlling bast—”

“You’ve developed quite an opinion of me over the year.” He smirked. “Or had you always thought of me in x-rated terms?”

“Go take a hike, Sloan.”

“You better pack up your inventory then.” He took out his cell and keyed in the number. “The van will be here tomorrow a.m. to move you out” –he paused— “how’s it go…uh…yeah…lock, stock and bar—”

“What’re you doing?” she demanded, and on reflex grabbed his forearm. His muscles contracted beneath her fingers, hard, strong, unyielding.

He cocked a brow, and glanced down at her hand curled over his arm.

Instantly she let go, but by then it was too late. Sexual energy vibrated between them, heating up the atmosphere to near combustion. The tension mounted. She stumbled back a step and slammed up against the shop window.

“Taking care of business.” Someone must have answered for he spoke into the mouthpiece. “Reschedule the demolition for day
after tomorrow.”

“Wait.” A bare whisper, but he heard.

A pause. “I’ll get back to you on that.” He clicked off the cell and skewered her with his dark gaze.

“I-I’ll pay you i-in installments.” She hated contemplating a deal with him, but she’d find a way, she’d manage somehow. She would. And then she’d put a million miles between Cade Sloan and herself. She gulped. She thought she’d done that a year ago, and here he was on her doorstep, catapulting her back into his life.

“Sure thing.”

“You-you’re agreeing?”

“Mmm,” he mouthed. “But it’ll be on my schedule and my call.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Pack your bags, Mrs. Sloan,” he said, a glint in his eye and a wolfish slant to his mouth. “You’re coming with me to the top of the Troodos Mountains in central Cyprus.”

“W-why there?”

“Because it suits me.”

She swayed, and he placed his hand on her shoulder to steady her. She flinched. But not fast enough. High voltage charged into her, sending her nerves on a sensual spin.

“Not another upset stomach, I hope.” He angled his head, and she didn’t miss the underlining reference to their wedding night when she spent most of it bent over the toilet bowl. “Much too convenient…and suspicious, wouldn’t you say?”

“Outline your terms, Sloan.” She straightened her shoulders, her tone all business.

“Oh, I intend to.”

“The sooner this is over with the better.”

His eyes darkened. Hers sparked with indignation.

A tension-filled moment staggered by.

“You will resume your position as my—”