Taming the Heiress (5 page)

"Dad," I say slowly. "I hate to point it
out, but I don't even know this man." I smile apologetically at
this Cristiano fellow, who just looks at me like he has his own
ideas of what he'd like to do with me.

Tough luck, buddy.

"Not a problem!" my father claims, clapping
Cristiano on the back. "You like her, right son?"

Cristiano looks me up and down as I fume,
apparently deciding whether I am worthy of him. "Sure," he finally
says, firing a wicked grin in my direction. "She would do."

"Do?" I repeat incredulously. "You think
I would
do
?"

I get up abruptly, wanting to curse them
both, but I hold my tongue. "Daddy, this is insane. I'm not going
to marry some dude you chose for me that I just saw for the first
time."

My Dad looks at me sternly. "We are an
Italian family, and it is not uncommon for the fathers to pick out
their daughter's husbands," he points out.

"We're from NEW YORK!" I say loudly, unable
to hold myself back any more.

"Francesca!" my father raises his voice too,
banging a fist on his desk. "I am not going to let you scream and
shout at me. It will be the way I said, whether you like it or
not."

"Sure," I say bitterly. "Everything always
has to go according to your plan, right? Well, good luck forcing me
into a wedding dress and dragging me down the aisle."

With that, I storm out of his office, hot
tears burning my eyes.

***

I know he didn't let the idea go. He would
call me, leaving me messages, trying to set me up with Cristiano.
As much as I begged my mother to convince him to stop, he wouldn't
give it up.

He even threatened me, saying he would cut
off my trust fund if I didn't give it a try.

Which is probably why I made my first
mistake ... Because I may have gone on a little teensy itty bitty
date with Cristiano in the end, just to make my father shut up.

As handsome as he was, I hated the fact that
he was so possessive, a true alpha male. Sure, I like someone who
is dominant, but I'm not up for someone dictating my every move,
which he apparently thought he had the right to.

And as disastrous as the date was, at least
I could tell my Dad I tried.

What I was not expecting was that my father
and Cristiano would conspire against me and actually announce our
engagement without even fucking
asking me
.

And the best way to find out about that is
not being cornered by paparazzi while you're being kissed by a man
who is decidedly
not
your fiancé.

But I should have known it would happen,
what with my father's assistance.

I'm speechless, though, and I don't have a
word to say to Kaiden who is looking at me like I completely
betrayed him. I gasp for air like a fish out of water, not knowing
what to say.

"Kaiden," I finally manage, but he raises a
hand in the air, smiling ironically.

"Is it true?" he asks simply, and I'm
rendered speechless. He waits for a split second, but then he
demands an answer again. "Is it?"

His voice is rising and we're still
surrounded by paparazzi, intent on capturing everything that
happens between us on film.

"It ... might be," I finally say softly, and
the broken look in his eyes ruins me. "But it's not what it seems
like! It's not like that at all!"

He waves a hand in the air dismissively. "I
don't care, Francesca," he says tiredly. "I can't deal with this
anymore. I just ... I thought we had something special, you
know?"

We exchange glances as the cameras click
around us, and my heart beats wildly in my chest. "Please," I
whisper softly, but he doesn't wait for me to go on.

Kaiden Hunter, whom I've hated, wanted and
craved all in the space of a few weeks, walks out of my life once
and for all.

I wallow in self pity for weeks.

I don't even know why.

Here's a girl whom I haven't even had sex
with ... the most I've done was touch her, but damn, it felt so
good. Feeling her on my fingers, kissing her pouty lips. It drove
me insane.

I've never been one to commit. And I never
thought I would. That's why it hurt even more when it all went down
- knowing she was cheating on someone else with me.

The tabloids and gossip sites have been full
of photos of her lately. After the initial scandal of being caught
kissing me, she went back to that Italian guy.

Cristiano.
His name alone makes me
want to break his teeth.

Because as much as I try to convince myself
that I don't care ... I do. I want her for myself, want to feel her
warm lips on other parts of my skin. I want her touch, her love,
her attention.

And I've been robbed of all of that by some
dude named
Cristiano
, for fuck's sake.

What hurts the most is the fact that she
didn't even try to explain.

After we went our separate way in that
alley, she didn't try to make contact with me once. Didn't call,
didn't e-mail. She still hasn't accepted my goddamn Facebook friend
request, for fuck's sake.

And s much as I tell myself I don't care ...
Even I don't believe it.

Francesca DeMarco is on my mind all day,
every day. And I don't see that changing any time soon.

I'm finally dragged out of my apartment by
an old friend, Angus. Instead of being happy about finally heading
outside though, I'm plagued by memories of our terrible double date
with Angus and Emma, where I met Francesca.

Then again, I would probably be thinking
about her if I saw a gum wrapper on the floor, somehow tying it in
with Francesca.
Fuck, I'm doomed.

"You have to get it together, man," Angus
tells me with a sigh while we down our beers in an uptown bar. "You
can't keep going on like this."

"I know," I grumble. "But there's just
..."

"No, Kai," Angus says sternly, sighing
heavily. "Listen, she's just a girl. I know she's gorgeous,
beautiful ... I know you keep thinking about her. But listen, there
are so many girls out there. You'll find someone else."

"But ..." I start, rubbing my eyes tiredly.
"I don't
want
anyone else."

And it's true. All I want is her, Francesca
... The Italian beauty with legs for miles, silky locks and a pouty
mouth that makes me go wild just by looking at it.

Just then, I make up my mind. "Listen,
Angus," I say hurriedly. "Thanks for the drink. I need to get
going. There's something I have to do."

He grins at me from across the table.
"You're a goner, man ..." he says.

I smile back at him, my mind already making
up a plan. "She's worth it," I say truthfully, almost jogging out
of the bar.

***

I don't waste any time.

I call Emmalee, Francesca's friend, and even
though it takes me ages, I manage to convince her to give me the
address I need. I go home and take a quick shower, standing in
front of my wardrobe for three times longer than I usually
would.

Finally, I pick a more formal outfit - for
me, at least. I go with jeans and a shirt, and I reckon I look
pretty good. I slick my hair back in an old-fashioned style, even
though I still have the same haircut.

Then I take a deep breath and ask my driver
to take me to Manhattan.

The traffic is awful, but for once I am
thankful, taking the extra time to work on my plan. We finally
arrive at our destination half an hour later, and I stumble out of
the car.

I walk straight into the building and up to
the receptionists desk. The woman looks at me uncertainly, asking
who I'm here to see.

"Gianni DeMarco," I say, my voice more sure
of what I'm doing then my mind.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asks me
doubtfully.

"Tell him it's about his daughter," I say
confidently, and she gives me another unsure look, but ends up
dialing a number. My heart skips a beat as she exchanges a few
short words with the person on the other line.

She finally sets the phone down and gives me
a tight-lipped smile. "Mr. DeMarco is in a meeting, but you're
welcome to wait in his office," she tells me.

And that's all I need.

***

You would think Mr. DeMarco would be out of
his meeting sooner than in three hours. I've been sitting in an
uncomfortable chair for hours while his assistant keeps eyeing me
and shooting suggestive remarks my way.

If I have to reject one more cup of coffee
and an invitation of 'a tour of the kitchen' complete with three
winks, I'm going to go insane.

But then finally, mercifully, the door
opens, and in walks a tall, broad shouldered man. He looks nothing
like Francesca at first sight, but as I jump up hurriedly and look
at him closely, I can see the resemblance.

It's in that defiant chin, the high
cheekbones. They're definitely related.

"Mr. DeMarco!" I say, perhaps a little too
enthusiastically.

The man looks at me blankly, shuffling
through a stack of papers, his glasses perched on the tip of his
nose. "Do I know you?" he asks without interest.

"My name is Kaiden Hunter," I say in a
hurry, desperate to have his attention.

And that definitely does it, because he sets
down a stack of papers on his assistant's desk and gives me a look
that could kill. "You better come in my office," he says sternly,
and I feel like I have to go to the principal's office.

I follow him into the other room sheepishly,
immediately impressed by the beautiful view he has. I'm about to
comment on it and his nicely decorated office, but he gives me a
death glare and I just decide to shut up.

He motions for me to sit down and I do as he
says.

I almost have a feeling I can smell
something of Francesca's in the air. That sweet scent of honeydew
is present, like she was here only a few hours ago.

But I think it would be best not to mention
that to Francesca's
Dad
.

"Why are you here, boy?" he says at that
moment, looking at me like he's heard it all. And with a daughter
as gorgeous as Francesca, I'm sure he has ... Though I keep hoping
he'll make an exception in my case and actually do what I ask
him.

"Mr. DeMarco, I want to date your daughter,"
I jump straight to the point.

"My daughter is engaged," he says, plain and
simple.

"I know," i say softly. "But I ... I don't
think he's the right man for her."

He looks at me doubtfully. "And what makes
you think that?"

I lean forward. "Have you ever been in love,
Mr. DeMarco?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment, but
finally, he nods. "I have ..."

I give him an encouraging smile, and finally
start to explain myself. "I think ... I think I might be in love
with your daughter."

The admission takes a lot out of me, but
DeMarco just stares at me, like he's waiting for me to go on. So I
do exactly that, pouring my heart out to the man whose daughter I
just realized I love.

"Listen, I'm not an expert. I've never been
in love before ... I didn't even realize that's what it was until I
started talking about it. But there's something about her. The way
her eyes light up when she sees me, the way she holds her head when
she knows she's right."

I sigh heavily.

"I know I don't know her that well, but
sometimes you just feel and know that it's right. And I do, this
time around. She's special ... so special. I hope you'll let me
have a shot with her."

"She's engaged," Mr. DeMarco repeats like a
broken record, and those words make me realize how stupid this
whole endeavor is.

But somehow, I just can't let it go.

"It's not too late," I say passionately. "I
just need another chance to make it right ... Make her see she
belongs with me, and not some guy who shares a name with a prissy
soccer player."

I hear a snort and I look at the man in
front of me with surprise. He's actually stifling back a laugh, and
it's infectious, so I start smiling as well.

"So," I say. "What do you say? Can I have
another chance with your daughter?"

His face slowly breaks into a smile. "I
don't know. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

I look at him with confusion, but then I
hear movement behind me and I turn around quickly. And there she is
... my beautiful, perfect girl.

I get up quickly, strolling towards her and
stopping only a few steps away from her. "Were you here for all of
that?" I ask her softly.

Her eyes are glassy and her mouth is not
pouty for once, instead, the corners of it are being pulled up by
an involuntary smile. "Yes," she says, just as softly as I did.

"Did you hear ... what I said?" I ask, my
grin spreading.

She nods simply, and shuffles from one foot
to another.

"And what about that guy ... Cristiano?" I
continue, this question being the most important of them all. She
sighs heavily and I prepare for my heart to drop, but instead, she
looks at her father over my shoulder.

"Care to explain, Daddy?" she says with an
amused smile.

I turn around to look at Mr. DeMarco, who
actually looks embarrassed for a second. "Well," he begins
hesitantly. "I may have ... jumped the gun on that one. I set her
up with Cristiano ... I thought he was a good guy! From an Italian
family, you know?"

He looks at me for affirmation and I just
give him a blank look, so he finally sighs and looks away.

"Francesca ... My daughter never agreed to
marry him. It's just something I cooked up," he says
apologetically, smiling like that's going to fix everything.

"What?" I ask angrily. "How could you do
that?"

His eyebrows rise and he looks at me
sternly. "Are you objecting my decision, boy? I thought you wanted
a shot with my daughter."