Billionaires: The Hero: A Deal for the Di Sione Ring / The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize / The Baby Inheritance

His mouth lifted. “There is no current woman, and even if there was, she’d know marriage is never in the cards for me. I’m fine with this, Mina. The question is are you?”

Her chin moved up and down.

“Is that a yes?”

“Sì.”

“You’re sure?” He held her gaze with his. “You have to be sure. There’s no turning back.”

“I’m sure.” Fear filled her eyes. “What if Silvio comes after us?”

“I will deal with him,” he said roughly. God help the man if he got his hands on him.

He swung into execution mode. “Get your purse and passport. Everything else can wait.”

She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, elaborate dress trailing behind her. Nate raked his hair out of his face. This might be the most unique business deal he’d ever made, but it certainly wasn’t the most complex. This one was simple. Marry the girl, get the ring and have their union annulled. As far as marriages went, it was the kind he could wrap his head around.

* * *

Mina was in shock. She must be, she decided as she sat in the backseat of the luxury car alongside Nate and attempted to contemplate the enormity of what she was doing. At this very minute, she was standing up Silvio Marchetti, one of Sicily’s most powerful figureheads, at the altar where her mother and her family and everyone they had known for generations were waiting for her to appear.

An image of her fiancé’s hard, unyielding face with its cruel edge flickered through her head. The incredulity of her failure to show up spreading across it until that white-hot rage of his set in. He would lose his mind. He would take it out on those around him. Her hands, laced together in her lap upon the fine silk of her dress, went ice-cold.

Would he take it out on her mother as the next best thing to her? Would her mother ever forgive her?

Simona Mastrantino might be an unfeeling, ambitious, repressed aristocrat willing to trade on her daughter’s fate, but she was all the family Mina had.

Would Silvio send his henchmen after her when he discovered what had happened? Did he have henchmen?

Her stomach heaved, a determined swallow all that was keeping her breakfast in her stomach. She was giving up everything she knew, agreeing to marry a man she hardly knew, to start a life far away from her home. Where would she go? To Paris where Celia was? Where she could use her French? Or was that too close to danger?

Nate continued to make phone call after phone call on his mobile, barking out orders in that deep authoritative tone of his. Phrases and words flew by in rapid succession. Civil ceremony, marriage license, documentation, prenup.

Nate flicked her a glance. “Can you have your solicitor give us the ring today? It would be better for us to leave tonight rather than wait around until the open of business tomorrow morning.”

Which might give Silvio a chance to track her down in a murderous rage. She shivered. “I will call him and find out.”

A quick conversation with Pasquale Tomei determined they were in luck. He had the ring in his home for safekeeping and could see them late afternoon. Which gave them time to marry first.

They pulled up at the Giarruso minutes later. She kept her head down as Nate put a hand to her back and guided her past curious onlookers through the front doors of the hotel and into the elevators to the penthouse suites. She breathed a sigh of relief as they rode skyward having avoided anyone she knew.

Everything happened in a blur after that. The arrival of the Giarruso butler with the prenuptial agreement Nate’s lawyer had sent along with a bouquet of beautiful white flowers for Mina and two simple, elegant gold bands. She kept her back turned as her colleague offered his congratulations to Nate, then left.

The civil registrar who had miraculously been produced to marry them arrived next. It was a testament to the authority of the stranger who was about to become her husband as every detail fell into rapid-fire place, nothing beyond his control.

Then she was standing by Nate’s side, her groom-to-be now dressed in a dark, expensive-looking suit rather than the jeans and shirt he’d had on when he’d arrived at her home. Insanely handsome.

The registrar began the short, textbook ceremony. Mina recited the words in Italian, Nate in English, words that should have been a sacred affirmation of a love that would last forever conducted in a church with a priest as with the traditions of her own faith.

Nate captured her hand in his as the ceremony came to a close, his dark, fathomless eyes holding hers as he slid the sparkling gold band on her finger. She swallowed hard, took the ring he handed her and slid it onto his elegant, strong hand. A flash of sensual awareness pierced the numbness blanketing her as the heat of his skin bled into hers. Those beautiful hands would be eminently capable of handling a woman.

Devastatingly exciting. Too bad she would never get to find out how exciting.

Her gaze lifted to his, curiosity plastered all over her face. A dark gleam entered his inscrutable gaze, injecting his almost black eyes with a heat that stole her breath.

The registrar indicated Nate could kiss his bride. He lowered his head to hers, his hands resting lightly on her waist to draw her closer. “Just to keep it real,” he murmured in her ear.

He pulled back and set his gaze on her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest as he bent his head and claimed her mouth in a whisper-soft kiss, his hard, sensuous lips settling against the pillowy softness of hers with unerring accuracy. For a moment she remained frozen, neither responding nor rejecting. Nate edged her lips further apart with a light pressure that commanded rather than asked. With a helpless sigh, she relaxed against him, sinking into his warmth as his hand came up to cup her jaw, angling her for his consumption.

It was every bit as good as she’d imagined it would be. She grabbed a handful of his shirt to steady herself, knees weak. She’d been kissed before, surely, by a couple of men, but never like this. Never so expertly, so thoroughly.

Utterly under his spell, a soft sound escaped her throat. The officiant gave a delicate cough. Nate’s hands fell away from her face as he put some distance between them, a flare of something she couldn’t read blazing in his eyes. Disappointment? Desire?

Her heart, already sorely under duress, beat a jagged rhythm. What was she doing? Making out with a playboy like Nate Brunswick—her soon-to-be ex-husband?

Nate turned to thank the registrar, apparently not as gobsmacked by the kiss as she had been. She attempted to gather her composure as he moved with ruthless efficiency to tie up loose ends with the officiant, summoned a bellboy to gather their things and had the car brought around.

When they were ensconced in the back of the sedan again, headed toward the affluent, beachside suburb of Mondello where her solicitor lived, Mina rested her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Relived that kiss. How her knees had literally melted beneath her.

“Are you okay?”

Deep and velvety soft, Nate’s sinful voice interrupted her recap.

She opened her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“The kiss. That kiss.”

Amusement darkened his gaze. “That wasn’t a kiss, Mina. That was a peck on the mouth to satisfy the registrar’s expectations.”

She wondered what a real kiss from him would be like. Unforgettable, she imagined.

“I will concede,” he drawled, his eyes on the hot color flooding her face, “that we have some kind of chemistry, wife. Too bad it’s a marriage in name only.”

She laced her hands together in her lap and glued her eyes to them.

“Surely you’ve kissed Silvio,” he prodded. “Perhaps even bedded him? I looked him up, Mina. He has quite a reputation.”

She lifted her chin. “Silvio has always been a gentleman.”

His brows lifted.

“Well, until that...incidente.”

Nate sat back in the seat, arms crossed over his chest after that, watching her with an enigmatic look. Likely glad he was getting rid of her shortly...

They made the reasonably short trip to her solicitor’s home quickly in the quiet Sunday traffic.