The Italian's Rags-To-Riches Wife

The Italian's Rags-To-Riches Wife
Julia James

Allesandro di Vincenzo is a perfect male specimen.There's no woman he can't have–until Laura Stowe crosses his path. Laura is plain, poor and hides behind her homely appearance to avoid getting close to people. But Allesandro needs her family connections to open the door to ultimate corporate power.So he must woo the ugly duckling into his bed–where she will learn what it is to be a beautiful, desired swan.

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He’s got her firmly in his sights and she’s got only one chance of survival—surrender to his blackmail…and him…in his bed!

Bedded by…Blackmail

The big miniseries from Harlequin Presents

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Dare you read it?

Julia James

THE ITALIAN’S RAGS-TO-RICHES WIFE

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

All about the author…

Julia James

JULIA JAMES lives in England with her family. Harlequin® novels were the first “grown-up” books she read as a teenager, alongside Georgette Heyer and Daphne du Maurier, and she’s been reading them ever since. Julia adores the British countryside—in all its seasons—and is fascinated by all things historical, from castles to cottages. She also has a special love for the Mediterranean—“the most perfect landscape after England!” She considers both ideal settings for romance stories. Since becoming a romance writer, she has, she says, had the great good fortune to start discovering the Caribbean, as well, and is happy to report that those magical, beautiful islands are also ideal settings for romance stories. “One of the best things about writing romance is that it gives you a great excuse to take holidays in fabulous places,” says Julia, “all in the name of research, of course!”

Her first stab at novel writing was Regency romances. “But, alas, no one wanted to publish them,” she says. She put her writing aside until her family commitments were clear, and then renewed her love affair with contemporary romances. “My writing partner and I made a pact not to give up until we were published—and we both succeeded! Natasha Oakley writes for Harlequin Romance®, and we faithfully read each other’s works in progress and give each other a lot of free advice and encouragement.”

In between writing Julia enjoys walking, gardening, needlework, baking “extremely gooey chocolate cakes” and trying to stay fit!

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

‘WHAT do you mean, you’re retaining the chairmanship?’

The voice that had spoken was harsh, and clearly angry. But out of respect for the man he had addressed, a man more than twice his age, Allesandro di Vincenzo kept the anger under control.

‘The situation has changed,’ the other man replied sombrely. He was sitting in his leather chair, in the library of his eighteenth-century villa in the depths of the Roman countryside.

Allesandro drew in his breath sharply. His lithe body was clad in a handmade suit from one of Italy’s most stylish and fashionable designers, and his sable feathered hair was superbly cut, setting off a face whose features could have graced an Italian movie star, let alone the chief executive of a major Italian company. He had dark, long-lashed eyes, high cheekbones, a finely cut nose, planed jaw and a sculpted, mobile mouth which, at the moment, was drawn in a taut, forbidding line.

‘But it’s been understood you would step down in my favour—’

‘Only by you, Allesandro,’ the older man retorted. ‘I never gave any legally binding undertaking. You simply assumed that when Stefano died—’ His voice broke off a moment, then he recovered, and continued. ‘And, as I have said, the situation has changed. Changed in a way I could never have envisaged.’

For a moment the sombre look left him, and he shook his head, looking suddenly every one of his seventy years.

‘I could have had no idea—none at all…’ His voice trailed off.

Allesandro’s brows drew together impatiently. His long-fingered hands pushed back his jacket, indenting around his lean hips.

‘What is this, Tomaso? No idea about what?’

The old man looked at him again. He paused a moment before speaking, his voice heavy.