The Italian's Token Wife

The Italian's Token Wife
Julia James

Italian millionaire Rafaello di Viscenti vows to marry the first woman he sees–who just happens to be Magda!She's been desperately trying to make ends meet by cleaning Rafaello's house. His proposal of marriage comes with a large financial reward–all she has to do is spend six months as Rafaello's wife in name only.But though Rafaello hadn't planned on sleeping with his new wife…he can't resist her!

No one, but no one manipulated him—not this avaricious bimbo, not his perdittione father! No one!

“Seems to me you don’t have a choice, Rafaello, cara,” she said bitingly. “You need a wife in a hurry—well, that’s fine by me—but I won’t be hemmed in by a stupid prenuptial!”

“Your choice.”

“And just what do you think you’re going to do for a precious bride, huh?” The voice behind him was taunting and vicious. He didn’t even bother to turn around.

“I’m going to marry the first woman I see,” he answered silkily, and was gone.

Mama Mia!

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The Italian's Token Wife

Julia James

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT the hell do you mean, you won’t sign?’

Rafaello di Viscenti glared down at the woman in his bed. She was a voluptuous blonde with flowing locks and celestial blue eyes, her naked body scantily covered by the duvet.

Amanda Bonham slid one slim, exposed thigh over the other, and widened her eyes.

‘It’s so sordid, darling—signing a pre-nup,’ she said purringly.

Rafaello’s sculpted mouth tightened.

‘You agreed to all the terms in the pre-nup. Your lawyer went through it with me. Why are you balking at it now?’

Amanda pouted up at him. ‘Raf, darling, we don’t need a pre-nup! Wasn’t last night good for you?’ Her voice had gone husky, and she let a little smile play around her generous mouth. ‘I can make it that good—every night.’

She nestled back into the pillows invitingly and slid her legs again, simultaneously letting the duvet slip to reveal one delectable breast.

‘I can make it that good right now,’ she went on, her eyes lingering over her lover’s lean, honed body, with her sensual gaze openly stripping him of his extremely expensive hand-made suit of such superbly elegant tailoring that it screamed a top designer name.

Rafaello slashed an impatient hand through the air. He was immune to Amanda’s plentiful bedroom charms—he’d had his fill of them for most of the night, and enough was enough.

‘I don’t have time for this, Amanda. Just sign the damn document, as you said you would—’ In his obvious anger his Italian accent was pronounced.

The inviting look vanished from the blue eyes, which were suddenly as hard as jewels.

‘No,’ said Amanda, yanking the duvet over her breast with a sharp motion. ‘You want to marry me—you do it without a ridiculous pre-nuptial contract.’

Her lush mouth set in an obstinate line.

Rafaello swore beneath his breath, drawing on his extensive range of native Italian vocabulary unfit for polite society. He really, really could do without this.

His obsidian eyes bored into his bride-to-be.

‘Amanda, cara,’ he said with heavy patience, ‘I have explained this to you already. I want a temporary bride only—you’ve gone into this with your eyes open; I have never attempted to deceive you. I want a bride for six months and then a swift, painless divorce. In exchange you get living expenses—very generous ones—for half a year, following one brief…very brief…visit to Italy, and you leave the marriage with a lavish pay-off. A pre-agreed lavish pay-off. Capisce?’

‘Oh, I capisce all right!’ Amanda’s voice sounded hard. ‘And now you can capisce me! The only pre-nup I’ll sign is one with twice the pay-off!’

Rafaello stilled. So that was the way it was. She was upping the ante. He should have seen it coming. Amanda Bonham might be the ultimate airhead, but she had a homing instinct for money.

But no one, no one manipulated him—not this avaricious bimbo, not his perdittione father. No one.

A shutter came down over his face, and his olive-toned features became expressionless.