The Italian billionaire’s vow:

She’ll be his wife!

Alessio Palvetti will do anything to bring his young nephew into the family business. To secure his heir, he’ll use his incredible chemistry with the boy’s legal guardian, Beth Hardingstone, and command her to marry him! For Alessio, the Palvetti empire always comes first, but all orphaned Beth has ever wanted is to matter to someone. Will their intensely passionate marriage be enough for this innocent Cinderella?

Fall in love with this Cinderella story...

MICHELLE SMART’s love affair with books started when she was a baby and would cuddle them in her cot. A voracious reader of all genres, she found her love of romance established when she stumbled across her first Mills & Boon book at the age of twelve. She’s been reading them—and writing them—ever since. Michelle lives in Northamptonshire, England, with her husband and two young Smarties.

Also by Michelle Smart

Married for the Greek’s Convenience

Once a Moretti Wife

A Bride at His Bidding

The Sicilian’s Bought Cinderella

Bound to a Billionaire miniseries

Protecting His Defiant Innocent

Claiming His One-Night Baby

Buying His Bride of Convenience

Rings of Vengeance miniseries

Billionaire’s Bride for Revenge

Marriage Made in Blackmail

Billionaire’s Baby of Redemption

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

A Cinderella to Secure His Heir

Michelle Smart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08770-4

A CINDERELLA TO SECURE HIS HEIR

© 2019 Michelle Smart

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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This is for the most loyal,

loving creature on this earth, without whom

I would probably never leave my office.

My dog, Stewie! Xxx

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

BETH HARDINGSTONE ENTERED the arrivals department of Vienna International Airport, pushing Dom’s pram with one hand and dragging her suitcase full of baby paraphernalia with the other. She looked around for the driver she’d been promised would meet her and hoped it wouldn’t be too long before she could throw a mug of super-strong coffee down her throat. She needed caffeine, badly.

Dom was suffering with teething pains and had kept her up all night with his crying. She’d finally fallen asleep at silly o’clock, less than an hour before she’d had to get up and get ready for their early-morning flight to Vienna. There had been no chance of sleep on the plane. Dom had not enjoyed his first flight and had made sure every passenger knew it.

He was fast asleep now, though, flat on his back in his pram, thumb in mouth, as cherubic as it was possible to be.

People always said how hard the first year of babyhood was but until you’d lived it for yourself there was no way to appreciate the sheer hard work and exhaustion that went with it. There was also no way to appreciate the unremitting joy that went with it either: the gummy smiles, the gurgling laughs, the explosions of love that came from picking up a screaming child and having him immediately quieten from being held in your arms.

A tall figure leant against a wall caught her eye.

He looked up from the phone in his hand. As his eyes met hers, her heart made a sudden leap.

Six weeks ago, Beth had been offered the event manager’s job of a lifetime—organising a Viennese masquerade ball. The Greek billionaire who’d bought a palace in Vienna and spent millions renovating it into an exclusive hotel for the filthy rich had sent his representative to deal with Beth’s company on his behalf. That representative had been this man, Valente Cortada.

In her six years working at White’s Events, where models of both sexes were regularly used as hosts and hostesses, where clients were rich and powerful, where guests were the staple of gossip columns, Beth had never met anyone who’d made her suck in a breath with one look as Valente had.

His instructions had been to secure Beth’s agreement to run the masquerade ball. That she’d been at the time nine months into a year’s unpaid leave and had no childcare arrangements in place had been overcome by Valente and her boss Lucinda setting her up with all the technology needed to organise things remotely from the comfort of Beth’s flat, and providing her with all the staff needed to assist her. As the sleeping baby was the reason for her year’s leave, and as she refused to travel without him, provisions had also been made for her to bring Dom with her to the ball.

When the offer had been made, Beth had almost wept with relief to accept. The nest-egg she’d thought would get her through the first year of Dom’s life had been depleted far more quickly than she’d anticipated. She’d been at a real crossroads. She wasn’t emotionally ready to put Dom in childcare and return to work but the bills were piling up and her rent, like everything else, had increased. She’d never been so skint in her life.

It was hard to believe that a little over a year ago the future had been so rosy. Beth had earned enough to rent a small flat but that had been all she’d needed. She’d been a single woman enjoying the London life with enough disposable income to eat out regularly, watch a live show or see a band whenever the mood struck. Her career had been going from strength to strength too but then tragedy had struck in a full-pronged attack and now she was in serious danger of losing the flat she loved so much and having to be put into social housing.

If it came to it, then she would cope. Dom’s emotional welfare and wellbeing meant more than anything. The poor mite, orphaned by the time he’d turned three months, needed all the love and security she could give. Beth could never replace his mother but she hoped that, as he grew up, he would take her love and support for granted just as he would have taken Caroline’s.

As an orphan herself, Beth knew how important and necessary this was.

She did not begrudge what she was doing for Dom and refused to call it a sacrifice. What Caroline had done had been a sacrifice. She’d given her life so her child could live.

But, if her perilous finances weren’t enough to contend with, there was also was the spectre of Alessio Palvetti hanging over her head.

Dom’s powerful biological uncle had discovered Dom’s existence and immediately thrown his weight about, emailing Beth from his ivory tower in Milan to demand access. Remembering the solemn promise she’d made to his parents to keep Dom far from Alessio and the other Palvettis for ever, she’d refused. Alessio had been undaunted and had got his expensive lawyers on the case, going as far as to offer her a million pounds in exchange for him taking custody of Dom. She had dismissed the offer out of hand and made it clear she would consider any further contact harassment and take appropriate action to protect Dom and herself against it.

She hadn’t heard from him since but didn’t believe his silence would last. He was too rich and too powerful to be held off for ever.

Beth loved Dom fiercely. She’d been present at his birth and there at his mother’s death. She would do anything to protect him, and if that meant fighting one of Europe’s richest and most secretive families then so be it.

The money being offered to organise the masquerade ball was the life-saver she needed.

She hadn’t seen Valente in the flesh since their initial meeting but as he was the liaison between Giannis and her they’d communicated daily with emails and video calls. What had started as purely professional communication had slowly transformed into something friendlier. Not only was he the sexiest man she’d ever met but he was easy to work with. He rarely questioned her judgement and, when he did, his points were valid and never cutting.

She’d found herself thinking about him a lot in the evenings when rocking Dom to sleep. And in the days when she was working on her laptop, co-ordinating things whilst simultaneously trying to keep Dom entertained. And at night...

Her skin suddenly heated to remember the dream she’d had of him. It had been a couple of weeks ago, long enough for the details to fade, but the hot, sticky feeling she’d woken with that night had stayed with her for a long time. For a few days after, she’d found it hard to meet his eye even though they’d been speaking via laptops.

He strode over to them, a head taller than everyone else in the vicinity, his lean body wrapped in dark trousers and an open-necked navy shirt that hugged his muscular chest, oblivious to the stares he received, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

When he reached them and extended a hand to her, the cuff of his sleeve pulled back with the motion to reveal a glimpse of fine, dark hair.

‘Beth, it’s good to see you again.’ His thick Italian accent had a richness to it that made her think of strong coffee liqueur.

Her stomach tightened under the spotlight of his green eyes.

She’d forgotten how vivid they were in the flesh, the colour of emerald, contrasting sharply with the deep olive hue of his skin and the thick, black curls of his hair and dark, stubbled jaw. She knew women who would kill to have sweeping lashes as long and thick as his. Set in a chiselled face with a strong nose and firm mouth, he truly was heartbreakingly gorgeous.

Over the beats of a heart that had suddenly started a strangely rapid and erratic tempo, she reached out her hand and found her fingers enveloped in a firm shake that sent heat trickling through her.

She felt strangely breathless. ‘You didn’t say you would be meeting us.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘My task this weekend is to assist you.’

Was she imagining the flirtatious tone and intensity of his stare...?

‘Have the caterers arrived at the palace yet?’ she asked as she removed her hand from his hold.

For all the friendliness that had developed between them through their communications, theirs was a professional relationship. Her dream had been exactly that. A dream. It didn’t mean anything.

‘They arrived as I was leaving. Everything is exactly as it should be. Your organisational skills are exceptional.’

Warmed by the compliment, she demurred. ‘As you know very well, it was a team effort, and besides a six-week deadline to organise the masquerade ball of the century forces the mind to focus.’

Another gleam flashed before he peered down into the pram. He stared at Dom for what felt like an age before raising his gaze back to her. ‘This is your son?’

The flirtatious sparkle that had been in his eyes had vanished. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why—Valente had just remembered Beth was a mother...

Either that or she’d imagined the interest she’d seen in his eyes. The latter was most likely. Beth was seriously out of practice with the big, wide world and the flirtatious practices that went on in it. She’d never been party to the flirtatious practices when she’d been a full-time part of it.

‘This is Dom,’ she confirmed. Telling Valente she was Dom’s legal guardian and not his biological mother would only lead to the inevitability of further questions. Caroline’s death was still too raw for her to talk about it without turning into an emotional mess. The next twenty-four hours were going to be manically busy. She needed to focus on the job she was being paid to do. ‘I would introduce you but he’s only just gone off to sleep.’

He cast one more look at the sleeping baby. ‘Let’s get you to the palace and introduce you to the nanny who will look after him while you work.’

So saying, he picked up her suitcase as easily as if it were filled with nothing but air and carried it to the exit.

Keeping step with him, Beth found herself wondering, not for the first time, how a man who exuded such raw power as Valente could be comfortable working for anyone but himself. Even the way he composed his emails suggested a man who should be ordering minions around, not a man earning a living doing another’s bidding.

When Alessio stepped out of the airport, he found the sun had risen in the Viennese morning sky. Its hazy beauty passed him by.

That was his orphaned nephew sleeping in the pram.

‘Have you been to Vienna before?’ he asked Beth. He needed to keep conversation flowing.

Until a few minutes ago, the closest he’d come to Domenico, the child Beth called Dom, was through photographs.

His plan had worked seamlessly. Beth was here and she’d brought his nephew with her.

And she still had no idea who he really was.

There had been only a small chance Beth would recognise him. Alessio, like the rest of the Palvettis, guarded his privacy zealously and the few pictures of him in the public domain were obscured. There was nothing in the way of similarity between him and his deceased brother either, in personality or looks.

It had been tough, learning his brother had died in a drunken accident without a family reconciliation, tough to learn he’d secretly married and tough to learn how long he’d been dead. His brother’s remains had been interred in a small cemetery in London rather than in his rightful place in the family plot in Milan. But to learn Domenico and his wife had given guardianship of their son to a stranger, a woman who was not even a blood relative on his mother’s side...?

That had been the hardest blow.

Domenico’s estrangement from and loathing of his family had gone beyond the grave. It had been the ultimate act of defiance against a family who had pandered to all his selfish needs and fanciful dreams.

Alessio had pushed his grief and fury towards his dead brother aside and set about bringing his nephew home. He would not allow the son to suffer for his father’s petulance. Domenico’s son was a Palvetti and deserved to be raised as such, not be left in the care of a stranger who didn’t even share his blood.

Employing a private investigative team to dig into the guardian’s life, he’d discovered she was a single twenty-four-year-old woman. Doubtless, she would be pleased to be rid of the burden of an orphaned child. Or so he’d thought.

He’d sent her a polite email requesting that they meet. She had replied with a curt ‘No.’ He’d got his lawyers involved but she’d remained unmoved. Assuming she was holding out for a financial offer from him—he’d learned the unpaid leave she’d taken from her workplace, presumably to care for his nephew, had left her dirt-poor—he’d offered her a million pounds for custody of his nephew.

Her instant dismissal of this offer and her threats to take legal action if he continued his ‘harassment’ had intrigued rather than angered him. By this point his investigators had compiled their final reports on her and what he’d learned had made interesting reading. Before going on leave, Beth had been a successful events manager.

A career-minded woman with a clear affection for his nephew...? A plan had germinated in his mind.

Alessio had wanted to spend a couple more years at the helm of Palvetti, the exclusive jewellery and perfumery business founded by his great-grandparents, before taking the ultimate step of selecting a wife and continuing the family dynasty. But if he was to take custody of his nephew that meant bringing his life plan forward. He would employ wraparound childcare, but his nephew would need a mother. Alessio’s own mother had never been maternal but her feminine influence had been strong in his life and he wanted his nephew to have that same influence.

But marriage was not an institution to go into on a whim and investigative reports on a person only revealed so much. He needed to learn for himself if Beth was as ideal a candidate in real life as she was on paper.

That was when Alessio had contacted his old friend and called in the favour owed from their English school days. In return for Alessio providing an alibi that had saved Giannis Basinas from expulsion twenty years ago, Giannis would host a ball in the heart of Vienna, in the sumptuous palace he’d bought a few years ago and spent millions renovating. And he would employ White’s Events to run it for him with the specific request that Beth Hardingstone be the manager for it.

Alessio’s name would not be mentioned in the same breath as the masquerade ball. This was not only to keep Beth Hardingstone oblivious to his plans. Alessio lived his life quietly and discreetly, far from the media spotlight, keeping the Palvetti mystique that his great-grandparents had first cultivated and which enhanced the allure of their brand.

With no idea of the real reason for her being there, Beth answered his question with a cheery, ‘I’ve always wanted to visit Vienna but this is the first job to bring me here.’

They’d reached his car, a gleaming black four-wheel drive. He clicked the fob to unlock it.

‘Is this yours?’ she asked with obvious surprise.

‘It’s for work.’ Another evasion of the truth, he acknowledged ruefully as he opened the back door. Intrinsically honest, he found the deception about his identity increasingly hard to maintain.

Beth opened the back door then fixed large brown eyes as velvety as chocolate on him with a smile. ‘You remembered a baby seat.’

He nodded. Damn, but she was beautiful when she smiled.

He’d been struck by that smile at their first meeting then in all their subsequent video calls. Her wide, generous mouth naturally turned upwards, as if smiling were her default position.

Today she’d dressed in a pair of slim-fitting cream trousers that rested above her ankles and a striped grey and white shirt. On her feet were flat ballerina-slipper-style shoes which, remembering the heels she’d worn to their first meeting, he guessed were for the practical reason of having a child in tow. Her long, dark hair had been left loose, the slight breeze lifting random silky strands, some falling across her pretty heart-shaped face. She wore no make-up that he could see but, with her lightly golden, clear complexion and those large, chocolaty eyes, she didn’t need it.

She reached into the pram and unstrapped Dom.

Alessio held his breath as she carefully lifted the sleeping infant out.

The bundle in her arms was the reason he was doing all this. This bundle was a Palvetti, flesh of his flesh.

He cleared his throat. ‘Do you need help?’

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she replied with a cheerful smile, oblivious to the rush of blood pounding through him at this first clear sighting of his nephew.

With obvious practice, she placed the baby into the car seat then leaned over to fiddle with the straps to secure him.

Suddenly Alessio found his attention transfixed on her pert bottom.

His mouth dried and the blood rushing through him rapidly heated and diverted to concentrate in his loins.

It was a primitive reaction, the like of which he hadn’t experienced since his teenage years.

‘Aha!’

He blew out a puff of air and willed the burgeoning ache to subside. ‘Sorry?’

She turned her head and wrinkled her nose. ‘This was a bit more complicated than I thought it would be but I got there in the end.’ Then she grinned again and turned back to Domenico to place a kiss on his cheek.

Pulling himself together, Alessio put her luggage in the boot of the car while Beth climbed into the front passenger seat. When he was done, and feeling more in control of his functions, he jumped into the driver’s seat.

The moment he closed the door he found his senses springing back to life as a heady fragrance dived into him. Beth’s perfume.

Dio, it was the most mouth-watering of scents.

‘Ready?’ He put the car into gear.

‘Absolutely.’ She laughed, an infectious, melodic tinkle. ‘Take me to the palace!’

He grinned back.

Inappropriate though his responses were at this moment, he welcomed them.

Having worked with her these past six weeks, albeit remotely, he’d come to the conclusion that his initial thoughts had been correct. Beth would be an asset for any business.

Factor in her natural beauty, and his visceral response to her, and she had the exact traits he required in a wife.

CHAPTER TWO

BETH’S TIREDNESS HAD GONE. Now she buzzed with the adrenaline that always came when an event was within touching distance. She had never worked so hard in her life as she had these past six weeks. Lucinda, her boss, had diverted staff and resources to her, allowing Beth to co-ordinate everything with a military precision she hadn’t known she was capable of.

She’d never got by on so little sleep, either. The hours during which Dom slept or napped had been spent ensuring everything Giannis Basinas required for his masquerade ball was exactly as it should be.

In only nine hours the guests would arrive. She had arranged events with impressive guest lists before but this one had made her gasp. Paying the extortionate sum to dance and be entertained were the world’s most famous faces: European royalty, Hollywood royalty, billionaires, heirs and heiresses, artists... This was a ball guaranteed to make news.

She thought of the plans that must have been changed so high society could attend the masquerade ball at such short notice—the cancelled holidays, the rearranged schedules...

If it all went wrong it would be her neck on the chopping block.

But if it all went right then a healthy bonus would be hitting Beth’s depleted bank account.

The salary she’d been paid for the ball up to this point had enabled her to pay her rent and buy Dom some new clothes. If she received the bonus she would have enough money to keep them going until her year’s leave was up with enough spare for any future legal battle with Alessio Palvetti.

She would then have the difficult decision of whether or not to return to work.

‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Valente said, cutting through her thoughts. ‘Is something on your mind?’

She cast him a quick glance. His attention was fixed on the clean, wide road before them. There was something incredibly reassuring about his command behind the wheel. Not once in their thirty-minute journey from the airport had she pressed an imaginary brake. ‘I’m just thinking.’

‘About what?’

She laughed. ‘What do you think? The guests are due in nine hours. There’s a lot that can go wrong in those nine hours.’

‘Nothing is going to go wrong.’

‘Speaks the voice of experience?’

‘No, speaks the voice of someone who has found much to be impressed with your organisational talents.’

Embarrassed at how ridiculously flattered she felt at the compliment, she turned her face to look back out of the window. The view outside was almost as good as the view beside her. Little wonder this was a city famed for its romanticism. The architecture alone, grandeur and beauty at every turn of the head, was enough to make her catch her breath.

Sitting beside Valente kept making her catch her breath too. The longer she sat beside him, the more aware she became of his scent, the capable fingers controlling the steering wheel and the tensing of the strong thighs whenever he changed gear.

The longer she sat beside him, the more she became aware of him.

She cleared her throat and answered, ‘The proof of the pudding’s in the eating.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘That we won’t know how good my organisational skills really are until the ball’s over.’

‘Why are you so nervous?’

‘I’ve never undertaken an event of this magnitude before... Is that the palace?’

They’d turned into an enormous courtyard with a water fountain right in the centre of it. Surrounding the courtyard like a titanic curved horseshoe rose the most beautiful building she had ever seen.

Gleaming white under the rising sun, it was impossible to count the number of windows, all aligned with perfect symmetry over three high storeys, or count the ornate white pillars. Dozens and dozens and dozens of them.

No wonder it had quickly become famed as the most expensive hotel in Europe.

The same sense of awe enveloped her when, Dom in her arms, she climbed the wide, curved steps and stepped through the main doors.

She thought she knew every inch of the palace’s ground floor from the photos, videos and scale drawings she’d been provided with but nothing could have prepared her for the reality.

If she closed her eyes, she could believe she was an eighteenth-century princess.

If she closed her eyes she could pretend not to be intensely aware of Valente watching her so closely.

‘Let’s get you to your suite,’ he murmured. ‘Dom’s nanny is waiting for you.’

Pulling herself out of her stupor, she followed him through the richly decorated corridors and up a flight of stairs, as wide as her flat, covered in thick royal blue carpet. They took a left at the top and walked to the far end of the mezzanine to her designated room.

She gasped.

‘This can’t be for me.’

Valente had not been kidding when he’d called it a suite.

Dazzling green eyes fixed on her. ‘You have a child. We weren’t going to put you in the servants’ quarters. Your outfit for the ball is hanging on your wardrobe.’

But she could see more than amusement in his gaze and that warm feeling trickled through her again, delving deep through her veins to coil into her bones and right into her core.

The glint in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils...

One of the many doors of the suite opened and a middle-aged woman appeared wearing a navy dress with a white sash tied around the waist.

Beth blinked and breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried over to introduce herself.

There was kindness in the nanny’s eyes and Beth’s nerves over handing Dom into the care of a stranger, however highly qualified and impeccable the references, evaporated.

‘I need to check in with Giselle before we do anything else,’ she told Valente when everything that could be discussed about Dom’s care had been discussed and they were heading back to the ground floor.

Dom was going to be fine. The nanny would take good care of him.

Beth had a job to do and it was time to get going on it.

Giselle was the manager of the palace’s hotel. While she had no involvement with the ball itself, many of the guests were staying there.

Valente pulled his car keys out of his pocket. ‘I will leave you to it.’

‘Are you going somewhere?’ she asked, surprised.

His smile was faint but the gleam in his eyes was vivid. ‘I have an appointment to attend but I will be back by noon. Call me if you need anything.’

And then he strode out of the palace, leaving her feeling something that smacked strangely of disappointment but which she pushed aside.

Beth did not mix business and pleasure. She never had and never would, not even for a man who made her heartbeat go into overdrive as Valente did.

Having committed the ground floor layout to memory, she found the manager’s office easily and entered it, to find a severe-looking, diminutive blonde woman sat behind a huge desk.

‘Giselle?’ she asked.

The woman rose to her feet with a smile. ‘Beth?’

She smiled back. ‘Lovely to finally meet you in person. Any problems since we last spoke?’

‘None. Any problems your end?’

‘Not that I know of. Valente said the caterers have arrived...’

‘Who?’

‘Valente Cortada. I’ve been reporting to him for the ball.’

‘I have never heard this name.’

‘Oh.’ Flummoxed, Beth thought hard, trying to remember if Valente had said he actually worked at the hotel. ‘He must work for Mr Basinas directly.’

‘That must be it because he does not work here. And, yes, the caterers have arrived. I will take you to them shortly. Can I offer you refreshment before we get started?’

Beth put her professional head on and got down to business.

But, as the busy hours passed, the disquiet she’d felt at Giselle’s unfamiliarity to Valente’s name stayed with her.

* * *

Alessio locked the documents his lawyer had given him during their meeting in his suite’s safe and called his PA in Milan to check in.

He disliked being away from the business. For his entire life he’d known that, if he worked hard enough, one day Palvetti would be under his control. It might be the family business but it had not been handed to him on a plate. He’d had to prove himself. The top job gave ultimate control of the business and a majority share. If the natural heir was deemed unfit for the job, the role would be passed to another family member better qualified. In Palvetti, there was a role to suit everyone’s skills and inclinations. It was and always had been a family business.

Alessio had coveted the top job from as far back as he could remember. School holidays had been spent shadowing various family members in their differing roles. When he’d graduated from university with a first-class economics and management degree, he’d started work for Palvetti immediately, reporting directly to his father.

At that time there had been something of a sales slump that had hit their profit margins. Alessio’s suggestions to turn the slump around had been implemented and within three years profits had risen by nine per cent. When his father had retired shortly after Alessio’s thirtieth birthday, the family board had been unanimous—the top job was Alessio’s. Under his guidance, Palvetti had gone from strength to strength. Their target of breaking into the crucial Chinese market had been a resounding success. Their jewellery graced the necks, wrists, ears and fingers of the world’s richest people and their luxury scents soaked their skin.

Palvetti was enjoying a boom and Alessio had no intention of allowing that boom to turn into a bust. He would not risk taking his eye off the ball.

His brother had not had the same sense of duty or destiny. Despite Alessio’s and his parents’ best efforts, Domenico had shown nothing but contempt for the business.

Domenico had refused to embrace anything but his own selfish pleasures.

Judging by the coroner’s report into his death, the years of estrangement had only made him worse.

What reckless selfishness had spurred him to ride his bicycle on London’s busy roads with enough alcohol in his bloodstream to defrost a freezer when he had a six months’ pregnant wife at home waiting for him?

Had his brother wanted to die? He’d written his will only weeks before his death.

What kind of character would his nephew have? Alessio ruminated as he searched for Beth. Would he take after his father or would Alessio’s influence be enough to steer him on the right path?

The great ballroom was a bustle of activity, dozens of people working together and separately to transform the room into a magical wonderland. Supervising it all was Beth, clipboard and tablet in hand, standing at the base of the stage the orchestra would be performing on, chatting to a couple of the workers.

He admired the sense of calm she exuded. The nerves she’d displayed in his car were either gone or she’d hidden them. She had the perfect leadership traits: calmness and competence. If a leader was prone to panic, it infected the workers.

About to approach her, his phone vibrated in his pocket. As he answered it, her gaze suddenly found him.

Something he could not explain passed between them in the look they shared in that moment, something that made all the cells in his body thicken.

There had to be thirty feet between them but his body reacted to her stare as if she were right in front of him.

He inhaled and raised a hand in greeting.

Her lips curved into a half-smile. She waved her fingers.

She stepped in his direction but had moved only a couple of paces when another worker hurried over to her.

She said something then looked back at Alessio.

He gestured that he needed to go.

She nodded and smiled again before giving the worker her full attention.

Alessio left the ballroom to continue his phone conversation but with the thrill of anticipation racing through his veins.

* * *

‘Valente?’ Beth said when he answered her call.

‘Is something the matter?’

A not unpleasant shiver raced up her spine as the richness of his voice seeped through her ear and burrowed deep inside her.

‘There’s been a mix-up with my uniform. The outfit left in my suite is a ball gown. I’ve spoken to Giselle but she doesn’t know anything about it.’

In the main bedroom of her suite she’d found her uniform hanging on the wardrobe as Valente had told her it would be, covered in grey wrapping with the palace insignia and her name tied to the hanger. Beth, like all the other White’s Events staff and palace staff working at the ball that night, had provided her vital statistics for her outfit. Expecting the same black uniform everyone else had been given, she’d been gobsmacked when she’d removed the cover to find an obviously expensive strapless, floor-length gold ball gown.

‘There is no mix-up. That’s your uniform for the evening.’

‘A ball gown? I need a proper uniform to wear so that guests and staff can identify me...’

His laughter rumbled through her skin. ‘I am afraid it is too late to change it, bella. Enjoy it—consider it a reward for all your hard work. I will see you shortly.’

Before she could protest any further he ended the call.

She sighed and fingered the hem of the dress. It felt like silk. Further examination of it revealed no label to identify its maker.

The dress was incredible. But it was not an appropriate dress for her to wear that night. As the event manager she needed to be easily identifiable, not look as if she could pass as one of the guests.

But, as Valente had so helpfully pointed out, it was too late to change it. She had only a two-hour window until the first guests arrived.

Instead of getting ready, she took Dom from Miranda, the nanny, gave him his bottle and played with him for a while. She wished she didn’t have to leave him again that night. Miranda had been great in sending her regular updates on his welfare that day but, despite being so busy, Beth had missed him horrendously. He’d been at her side since his birth.

She kissed his plump cheek then kissed his button nose. ‘Mummy needs to get ready now,’ she told him, before handing him back to Miranda.

Calling herself ‘Mummy’ was something that still caused a wrench in her heart. Caroline was his mummy but Caroline had made Beth promise to be his mummy. It was a promise she would keep for the rest of her life.

Beth showered quickly, dried her hair and applied a little make-up then, with Miranda’s help, got into the dress.

It fitted perfectly. The box that had lain on the floor beneath it contained a pair of gold shoes that also fitted perfectly.

Who, she wondered moodily, had authorised such a dress for her? Giannis Basinas? If him, then why? She still hadn’t met him, all communication having been done through Valente.

Had Valente authorised the dress?

Which begged the question of who Valente was to Giannis. Her assumption that he worked at the hotel had proved to be wrong.

But there was no time to wonder any longer. The guests would start arriving soon. She needed to be in the ballroom. She might be dressed like a princess but she was at this ball to work.

Work or not, there was no denying that the anticipation running through her was on a scale she felt right down to her toes.

* * *

Alessio entered the already crowded reception room and helped himself to a glass of champagne. Being a good head taller than most people gave him the advantage of seeing over the elaborately dressed, highly excited guests, and the pianist entertaining them, but he couldn’t see Beth.

He cut through the crowd. At the ballroom entrance he nodded at the security man guarding it, who opened the door for him.

And there she was, clipboard and tablet in hand as they’d been earlier, making her way around the tables lining the east and west walls of the room, double checking that everything was perfect...

His throat closed as he took in the perfection of her.

The dress he’d selected for her fitted as if the seamstress had sewn it with Beth as her mannequin. The curves of her body, that the outfits in which he’d seen her before had only hinted at, were more feminine than he’d imagined. She’d swept her dark hair into an elegant chignon which exposed the grace of her neck and emphasised the beauty of her bone structure.

If his plan continued its successful path, it would not be long before his lips grazed that graceful neck...and the rest of that ravishing body.

Beth had beauty and an exquisite eye for detail. With his guidance, she had the potential to be as great an asset to Palvetti as all the other Palvetti spouses had been.

With his guidance, she would become the perfect Palvetti wife.

He just had to keep the deception going a little longer, until the ball was over. He imagined there would be a scene when she discovered who he really was and he wanted that scene to be conducted in private.

He finished his champagne and walked to her. ‘Good evening, bella,’ he said.

She smiled to see him before her eyes narrowed a touch. ‘Hi, Valente... I see you’ve been given a non-uniform to wear too.’

‘My non-uniform does not look as good as yours,’ he replied evasively. His non-uniform had been hand-stitched by Milan’s finest tailor. ‘You look beautiful.’

Her lightly golden cheeks flushed with colour and her lips pulled in before she said, ‘That’s kind of you to say. So, what do you think? Does the ballroom match Mr Basinas’s expectations?’

He slowly turned around to take in everything anew and nodded.

Gold, silver and white balloons hung from the high grand ceiling, matching heavy drapes lining the walls. The tables followed the same theme; ornately decorated and with centrepieces topped with feathers and miniature gold masks. The orchestra was on the stage, the musicians tuning their instruments, the champagne fountain already flowing.

‘Have you seen the other rooms?’ she asked.

‘I haven’t seen them finished. Show me.’

She led the way, taking him through myriad other rooms adorned with the same decorations: the dining room, where a hot and cold buffet would be served throughout the night, and where a string quartet was tuning their instruments to entertain the diners; the cocktail lounge, filled with sofas and armchairs for those who wanted to catch their breath and listen to the music of a lounge pianist; the chocolate room, filled with edible creations hand-made in Switzerland and the disco room, which wouldn’t be opened until after the midnight fireworks, and would no doubt be filled with younger revellers wanting a break from waltzing to let their hair down to more familiar songs.

It was hard to believe this had all been achieved in only six weeks.

‘You have done an incredible job,’ he told her as they walked back to the ballroom.

‘I can’t take the credit. It was a team effort, as you very well know.’ Beth would not allow her team’s achievements to be diminished. Eight members of her team had been camped in the palace for the past three weeks beavering away.

‘You directed it all. You pulled it together. This is your vision. Accept the plaudits and be proud of what you’ve achieved.’

‘I haven’t achieved anything yet,’ she reminded him. ‘As I said this morning, the proof of the pudding’s in the eating. Let’s wait to hear Mr Basinas’s and the guests’ feedback before getting carried away.’

He opened his mouth but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the master of ceremonies approaching them.

‘Five minutes,’ he informed her gravely.

Her stomach knotted. For a moment she feared she would be sick.

Five minutes?

‘Excuse me,’ she murmured to Valente. ‘I need to get in position.’

He cast her a look that made her belly melt.

Her bones had melted just looking at him. She had not thought he could be more handsome but tonight, freshly shaved and dressed in a deep maroon, long-tailed dinner jacket the men had all been instructed to wear—colour and style optional—with matching trousers, black shirt and black bow-tie, he looked devastating.

She hurried back into the ballroom to take her position by the champagne fountain. Moments later the orchestra played its first beat, the ballroom doors opened and the master of ceremonies formally announced the ball open.

CHAPTER THREE

THE GUESTS POURING into the ballroom made a spectacular sight. The dress code was formal, but with an invitation to be colourful, and the guests had taken it at its word. Dresses every colour of the spectrum were there, the ladies resembling creatures from a fairy tale of long ago, the men dashing in their rich long-tails. The masks, all hand-crafted, ranged from simple yet hauntingly beautiful pieces that covered only the eyes to elaborate, bejewelled face-covering creations. It was a sight that made Beth’s heart soar.

As the guests lined the sides of the great ballroom, ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right, a quartet of ballet dancers from Compania de Ballet de Casillas performed a short opening dance to welcome them, before gracefully leaving and being replaced by two-dozen professional ballroom dancers.

The professionals danced the first waltz alone and then the master of ceremonies instructed the gentlemen to choose a partner. Soon, four hundred people filled the floor, the dresses whirling in a wonderful kaleidoscope of colour.

For the next dance, the ladies got to choose their partner. Only one man refused to relinquish his dance partner, and as that man was Giannis Basinas himself no one was going to argue the point with him.

From that moment, the evening passed in a blur, and Beth found herself able to breathe properly.

She regularly monitored the other rooms, unobtrusively checking and double-checking everything, ready to instruct a team member to fix the tiniest imperfection.

She had lost track of time when she made another return to the ballroom and received a tap on the shoulder.

Spinning around, expecting to find a male guest requesting a dance—something she had had to decline four times already—her heart leapt into her throat to find Valente standing before her, two flutes of champagne in his hands.

He held one out to her and bowed his head. ‘For you, my lady.’

Much as she would have liked to pretend otherwise, Beth had been alert to his presence the entire evening. Every small glimpse had set her pulses thumping.

She blinked away the effect of his emerald eyes boring into her and the drumming effect playing in her head, echoes from her thundering heart. ‘That’s kind, but I don’t drink when I’m working.’

‘You are officially off the clock as of now.’

She rolled her eyes and strove to keep her voice light-hearted. ‘I’ll be off the clock at four in the morning when the ball finishes.’

‘I have spoken to Giannis. He is exceptionally pleased with how well everything is going. Now is the time for you to turn your work head off and enjoy yourself.’

‘Is that what you’ve been doing?’ she asked. ‘Enjoying yourself? Because I haven’t seen you do anything that looks like work.’

‘Dance with me and I’ll tell you all about it.’

‘Valente, I’m working. I can’t dance.’

‘I told you, you are officially off the clock. Your work is done. Your assistant can take charge. Your instructions now are to enjoy yourself.’

‘Is that an official order?’

‘Assolutamente.’ A wicked gleam flashed in his eyes that made her belly melt all over again. ‘And the first official order for enjoying yourself is to drink this glass of champagne. The second is to dance with me.’

Valente was the intermediary between Beth and Giannis. He spoke for the Greek billionaire. If he said she was off duty then it had to be true.

Romance filled the air within the palace. The thought of joining the happy revellers on the dance floor with the most handsome man there was far more appealing than it should be.

When he offered the champagne to her a second time, she took it from him and brought the flute to her lips. The bubbles exploded in her mouth. ‘If you’re lying to me and I get a rollicking for skiving off, you can pay the bonus I’ll forfeit.’

‘You will not forfeit the bonus.’

He sounded so confident in this assertion that Beth relaxed enough to laugh.

Lines appeared on his handsome face as he grinned, the only imperfections on a face that could have been designed by a renaissance master. And the lines weren’t even imperfections, serving to enhance the gorgeous face she could not help herself from drinking in.

He held his flute to hers.

She chinked hers to it. In unison, they drank.

Valente placed the empty flutes on the tray of a passing waiter then held his hand out to her. ‘Time to dance.’

But still she hesitated.

She wanted to dance with him. She wanted it more than she should. And that was the cause of her hesitation.

What if he wanted more than just a dance?

And why did that thought make her skin tingle as if a thousand electric ants were zipping through her veins?

Through the years Beth had been asked to dance by countless numbers of men. Valente was the first man she had wanted to say yes to.

She reminded herself about all the event staff she’d seen through the years involve themselves with rich clients or the client’s staff or guests. When alcohol flowed freely, inhibitions loosened and hedonistic pleasure became the aim. She would not be like the poor events staff she’d observed through the years fall for the practised patter, kidding themselves that the attention was anything more than an eye for the chance of a willing body for a night’s pleasure, discarded and forgotten when the sun came up.

Beth had come to distrust rich, powerful men. In her experience, they were the worst for treating women as commodities.

Domenico had been the only rich man she’d met who hadn’t treated women like that. He’d loved Caroline and had treated her with the utmost respect.

But Domenico had forfeited his riches out of loathing for his rich, powerful family. He’d preferred to be poor and happy than rich and cruel like his brother, Alessio. His stories about what went on behind the closed doors of the rich and powerful had only hardened Beth’s distrust of the elite.

Valente was not a rich man. The power he exuded was a figment of her imagination.

The dance had finished, the guests pairing off again for the next one.

‘Enough stalling,’ he scolded. He took the matter out of her control by taking hold of her hand and marching her to the dance floor.

‘I really can’t dance,’ she warned, laughing, although unable to understand why she was laughing.

What harm would one dance do? It wasn’t as if she were agreeing to marry him!

He guided her to possibly the only empty space on the floor. ‘It is easy. I will teach you.’

‘You can dance?’

‘Si. Follow my lead and you will be fine.’ He bowed. ‘Now you must curtsey.’

Laughing again, she curtsied then allowed him to take her right hand in his left.

She took a quick peek at where the other women were placing their left hands and placed hers on Valente’s bicep. It was rock-hard.

The laughter died in her throat when he slipped his right hand around her waist and pulled her to him. Her nose was level with his neck. The scent of his cologne coiled through her and something else, something like warm treacle, pooled low in her abdomen and with it came a flash of the dream she’d had of him, of them...

Slowly she raised her head to meet his eyes. The amusement that had been in the emerald gaze just moments ago had died.

After a long, silent beat passed between them, the faintest of smiles curved his lips. Her own lips tingled and she felt a sudden yearn to press them to his, a yearn that dissolved when the first note of the music rang out and suddenly she was being spun around the room in the most heavenly of arms.

For such a tall, muscular man, Valente danced with an elegance that made her dazed mind think he’d done this many times. His assured grace and utter control allowed her to relax into the dance and, as he spun her around the great ballroom, weaving seamlessly between the other dancing couples, she imagined herself as a princess from days gone by waltzing in the arms of her very own Prince Charming.

When the dance ended, Alessio kept tight hold of her. ‘One more,’ he murmured into her ear.

The rays from her answering smile beamed straight into his loins.

Impulse had driven him to ask her to dance. He’d spent the evening observing her, the desire to have her in his arms growing with every passing minute.

The compulsory ballroom dancing lessons he’d endured at his English boarding school were finally paying off.

‘Where did you learn to dance?’ she asked when they were on their third waltz, one set at a slower tempo.

‘As a child.’ Soon there would be no more need for evasion.

Her head tilted as she studied him. ‘What is it you do for Giannis Basinas?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘None of the hotel staff have heard of you.’ There was no accusation in the beautiful chocolate eyes, just a soft curiosity.

He pulled her a little closer. Their bodies were almost touching. She didn’t pull back. ‘Let’s just say I have known Giannis for many years.’

‘Is that all you will tell me?’

‘For now.’

A spark flared in her eyes. Its brilliance flashed through him. ‘Intriguing.’

He laughed but it was from discomfort rather than humour. Alessio knew this was the moment he should whisk her away somewhere private and tell her the truth, somewhere where they wouldn’t be overheard.

Forget waiting until the morning. He had waited long enough. Beth had passed every test he’d given her.

But he wanted to hold her in his arms for a few more dances first and savour the heady, erotic feeling flowing through his loins a little longer before the dilated softness flowing from her gaze turned into loathing.

The loathing wouldn’t last long, he was sure. Beth was too practical to be dictated to by emotions.

The dance ended without any further conversation, and the master of ceremonies took to the stage to announce that there would be a short break from the dancing for the fireworks display being held in the grounds.

‘Shall we?’ He held his arm out to her.

She smiled, nodded and tucked her hand through it.

They followed the crowd through the ground floor of the palace to the famed gardens. Alessio had only taken a few breaths of the warm night air when there was a tap on his shoulder.

He turned and inwardly cringed to find Richard, an old university friend, standing there.

‘Alessio Palvetti as I live and breathe!’ Richard roared, obviously steaming drunk. ‘How wonderful to see you! My God, man, how many years has it been?’

Not enough.

He felt Beth go rigid beside him.

‘Hello, Richard,’ he answered tightly.

‘I thought it was you,’ Richard shouted. ‘I said to my wife, look, there’s Alessio Palvetti. I must introduce you to her. She never believes me when I tell her we were at Oxford together.’

Richard’s words washed over him.

He met Beth’s frozen gaze. Her eyes were stark and wide. Slowly she extricated her hand from his arm and stepped back to wrap her arms tightly around her chest.

Alessio held her stare.

The first firework exploded in the sky.

Beth blinked then, turning as fast as the shooting rocket hurtling above them, fled.

* * *

Beth pushed her way through the crowd still spilling out into the gardens, the curses thrown at her as champagne was spilt in her wake nothing but a distant sound, the industrial fireworks showering the sky with luminescence melding with the drum beats exploding in her head.

Her lungs had cramped, fear fisting tightly in her stomach.

Back under the palace roof, she ran as fast as her heeled feet would carry her until she entered an unfamiliar room and spun around in panic.

She’d lost her bearings.

She covered her mouth with a shaking hand and forced herself to think. She had pored over the map of the palace for so many hours she knew it intimately but her brain had turned into stunned goo.

Think!

Instinct had her race to the door to the right of the room but it only led to another unfamiliar room.

Her instincts clearly weren’t worth anything. If they had been, she would have had an inkling that Valente wasn’t...was...

Oh, dear God, it had all been a lie.

Get to Dom.

She turned back and ran to the door to the left.

The palace’s proportions that she had found so awe-inspiring on her arrival had become a frightening warren. The richly decorated walls had gained faces, the masks on the few guests who’d stayed inside rather than watch the fireworks coming to life to laugh at her.

That feeling, that the whole palace was laughing cruelly at her naivety, was compounded when she finally found the stairs and tripped on the third step. One of her shoes fell off. She stumbled on, pausing only to remove her remaining shoe, climbing the stairs as fast as she could but somehow feeling as if time itself had slowed and that she was ascending a mountain that was fighting back, a lucid, waking nightmare.

The nightmare showed no sign of letting up when she finally reached the door to her suite. She’d left her bag in the staff room. Her door key was in it.

The door was locked.

She banged on it and kept on banging until it was opened by the nanny.

‘Where’s Dom?’ she gasped, uncaring of Miranda’s blatant disapproval at this loud disruption.

Was she even a real nanny or a stooge set up by Valente... Alessio?

‘Asleep.’

‘He’s here?’

‘Yes. He’s in his cot.’

But the nanny’s word was not enough. Beth needed to see him with her own two eyes.

Dragging her jelly legs to the bedroom Dom had been appointed to share with the nanny, she pushed the door open.

The only illumination in the room came from the opened door. The cot was at the far wall. Beth crept over to it, her heart thundering, terrified that she would find it empty...

Dom lay in it on his back, tiny hands in fists either side of his head, sleeping peacefully, as snug as a bug in a rug.

The relief that surged through Beth to find him there safe and sound was so great that she doubled over and gulped air into her burning lungs.

But the relief was only temporary. Danger remained close. Remembering the fury on Alessio’s face when that man had called him by his real name, she figured his plans to snatch Dom from her had been interrupted.

Alessio’s minions might be on their way right now to get him.

She had to take Dom now, and leave this palace before...

A large shadow filled the open doorway.

‘No!’ The word shot from her mouth as a howl and she straightened clumsily to spread her arms wide across the cot. If he wanted to get to Dom, he would have to get through her first.

Dom stirred, a tiny mewing sound coming from his cot.

Beth held her breath. She didn’t dare take her eyes off Alessio, who remained at the threshold of the room.

‘I’m sorry you had to discover the truth like that.’ His words echoed off the walls.

Nausea roiled violently in her stomach. ‘Sorry that it prevented you taking Dom, Alessio?’

She tried to keep a lid on the fresh panic gripping her as she took in the lean yet muscular proportions of the man with a new ominous perspective. If it came to a fight, she would never win.

But she would try. She would fight. She would do whatever it took to keep Dom out of the clutches of the man from whom she had sworn to protect him. She would protect her ward with her life.

He shook his head slowly. ‘If I wanted to take him, I would have done so already.’

‘Stay back!’ He’d stepped into the room. The shoe she’d lost on the stairs was in his hand. ‘Don’t come any closer.’

She tensed her body, readying herself for the first physical fight of her life.

He took another step forward and placed the shoe on the dressing table.

Dom let out a loud cry.

Not wanting to take her eyes away from the slowly nearing Italian, she twisted an arm into the cot and groped carefully until she found Dom’s belly and gently stroked it. He cried out again. It was a cry of pain.

Valente... Alessio...stopped walking.

He expelled a deep breath then stepped back to the door. At the threshold he called out, ‘Miranda.’

The nanny appeared.

‘I’m going to take Miss Hardingstone to my suite. Domenico needs attending to.’

‘No!’ But Dom’s cries of pain were increasing and Beth could no longer bear the agony in her heart to hear them. She turned quickly and scooped him into her arms. Immediately his cries lessened.

Holding him securely and rocking him gently, she turned to her adversary and fought unsuccessfully to hold her own tears back. ‘Please, I am begging you, don’t do this. Don’t take him from me.’

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