Married on Paper: The Argentine's Price / The Inherited Bride / Marriage Made on Paper

That moment, when he’d been lying in the alley, had been the lowest of his life. But it had been then, jobless, broken and bleeding, that he had vowed to ensure no one else ever held power over him like that again. He would never allow anyone but himself to hold his fate in his hands.

That goal had consumed him, had propelled him from the gutter to the boardroom, had made him millions.

That Vanessa would be the key to unlock the final door, to allow him into the last segment of society where he was still unwelcome, was poetic justice.

He didn’t hate her. He had no desire to hurt her or exact revenge on her. But he no longer cared for her. His body still ached for her, that was all.

Michael Pickett, on the other hand, deserved hell on earth and in the hereafter. Taking Vanessa, making her his own, wrenching her from her father’s control … the satisfaction in that was endless. The man had been willing to commit murder if necessary to keep Lazaro away from his daughter, and now there would be nothing he could do to prevent him from claiming Vanessa.

“You know I can’t walk away. You might not see it as a necessity, Lazaro. But this is my whole life.” She met his gaze, her dark eyes glittering. “And I don’t think you’ll walk away either. You need me, too.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

His gut burned. “You or any other society princess.”

“We both know this is about more than that.”

Why bother to deny it? “True. It is rather satisfying, the idea of marrying into the family whose floors my mother wasn’t good enough to clean.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, well-groomed eyebrows drawn together.

“I mean, your father fired my mother. We ended up on the streets. So yes, I suppose there is something especially satisfying about it being you.”

There was no triumph in her eyes, only shock, sadness. For him? For his mother? It was far too late for that.

“I didn’t know.”

“Did you think we went on an extended holiday?”

“I didn’t know,” she repeated, her voice low.

He shrugged. “We’ll start with dating, of course.”

“What?”

“We need to be seen together, prior to the actual engagement.”

Vanessa tried to ignore the knot in her stomach. She didn’t know his mother had been fired. She wondered if that had been when he’d disappeared. If that was why he’d never come back after their disastrous almost night together.

She didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to let him know she still thought about it. That it still mattered.

She cleared her throat. “And you want us to … date?”

“Of course. I intend to seduce my fiancée with all of the skill that I possess.”

He took her hand in his and bent over it, pressing firm, hot lips to her skin. The gesture was light, gentlemanly even. Not even a little bit erotic. At least it shouldn’t have been. But it was. It pushed all of her thoughts and concerns right out of her head and caused a riot of sensation through her system, made her entire body weak and energized at the same time. Made her breasts feel heavy as a pulse started to beat at the apex of her thighs.

She hadn’t felt this way, not with this level of intensity, since the last time Lazaro had taken her in his arms when she’d been a completely inexperienced sixteen-year-old. And she hated that she still responded this way to him now. He was the man who was holding her future hostage and that she would melt under his touch with absolutely no resistance was appalling.

She pulled her hand back and pressed her palm to her chest, feeling her heart rage against her breastbone. “No seduction required,” she said tightly. “You can seduce the media, I don’t really care, but not me. I’ll do my ‘wifely duty’ once we’re married, but until then, you can keep your lips to yourself.”

He tightened his jaw, his eyes dark, glittering. Angry. “Don’t worry, princess, I won’t defile you in any way.”

A stab of regret hit her. For a moment, she wondered if she’d hurt him. But the moment passed quickly. Lazaro Marino didn’t do feelings. And the last time she’d turned down his advances he’d walked out of her life. All he saw her as was a body. Well, now he saw her as more than that. A body and a stepping stone on his way to the top.

It wouldn’t hurt him to wait.

“One thing you need to know, Vanessa. With me, sex will never feel like duty. I guarantee it.” His eyes were hot on her, making her body temperature rise along with her heart rate. His words were an invitation to sin a saint could hardly resist.

Sign me up for sainthood then, because I’m not going there.

She would do what she had to do. She would make this deal work for both of them, but she wasn’t going to fall under his spell. She’d done it once, and she had no intention of ever succumbing to his wicked, deceptive charms again.

“Anything else?” she asked stiffly.

“You and I have a date tomorrow night.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“OF course you picked Chev’s,” Vanessa murmured as Lazaro helped her from the limo.

She wasn’t happy about it, that was clear. It was written all over that beautiful face of hers, her dark eyes glittering with barely suppressed anger.

“Of course,” he said, drawing her to him, wrapping his arm around her slender waist.

It was a cool evening, the cobblestone sidewalk wet from rain that had fallen earlier. But Vanessa’s arms were bare, her legs barely covered by the sheer veil of her nylons, killer black heels added to the look, making his mind spin with fantasies that couldn’t possibly be legal at this sort of establishment.

Everything about her look was designed to entice. To torment. The formfitting, silken dress she was wearing acted as a flimsy barrier between his hands and her soft, smooth skin. He knew it was soft and smooth. He remembered, in explicit detail, how she had felt beneath his fingertips.

He slid his hand around to her lower back, the deep blue fabric catching on some of the rough patches on his hand, still calloused from so many years of labor. For a moment, his world reduced to Vanessa, to the tease she presented. It would be so easy to tear the gown from her body so that he could touch her, could see just what it would be like to feel her bare skin beneath the palm of his hand.

“This is going to get back to my father in a couple of hours. If it even takes that long.”

He felt her tense, the idea of her father seeing them together clearly not something she wanted to think about.

“He won’t like to hear about it?”

She shot him a sideways glance. “What do you think?”

He could imagine what Vanessa’s father would think. Vividly. Almost like a blow to his face. “He’ll learn to deal with it.”

“I doubt it.”

“Easier to handle than having you deposed as head of Pickett. Or having to file for bankruptcy.”

“Possibly,” she said, teeth gritted.