Italian Millionaire, Runaway Principessa

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Sun Chara (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Unlimited thanks to my wonderful brother, Joseph who is quantum leaps ahead of his time…you are an inspiration!

Greatest gratitude and admiration to all the people (including my brother Joseph) in the medical field for your courage, dedication, and heroic efforts in saving lives! I applaud you!

Chapter 1 (#u69df24f8-7c08-5b3b-9a91-7143a0ecdd36)

Peter saw her. And he saw men at the bar ogling her every curve. The waitress scrap-of-nothing she wore accentuated the length and shape of her legs, clad in net stockings. How she managed to walk on stiletto heels was beyond his male comprehension. The flimsy froth of fabric barely covered her bottom and had her breasts nearly spilling from the Grand Canyon neckline, to the delight of every male eye in the smoke-filled room.

He brushed rain-damp hair off his brow, warring with his gut instinct to stride over, sling her across his shoulder, and take her home. Hot blood surged through him and his aorta boxed his chest. Home where she belonged, with him, and in his bed—

The crash of glass jolted him from plunging deeper into the erotic fantasy. Since she’d run out on him, his mind was set on replay … a constant rankling to his Italian pride.

A muscle assaulted his jaw. Her rebellious escapade could bring him down, and her with him. Premeditated or a case of the lamb amidst wolves? His chest constricted. It was time to set the record straight, even the score. Although he had to move fast to snare the coup d’état he was after, he’d do it his way. He inhaled, filling his lungs with needed oxygen and grimaced at the smoke-tainted air in the club. He exhaled and snared her in his narrow focus.

She was floundering to pick up broken glass from the floor. Her admirers were moving in, but in two long strides he was beside her. The spinning strobe light cast a halo around her, making her hair gold and her skin a shimmer of silk. Memories rushed in, taunting, smothering … and he almost changed his mind. Passion and anger raged inside him. Pent-up pressure in his chest sizzled between his teeth and banished the past, but only for the moment.

“Let me help you.” He hunkered down, playing knight gallant, but feeling more like a Neanderthal. His words held a double meaning for this woman, who kept a special place in his heart, his life, and who had spurned his every effort. Why would she have left him otherwise? Without a word, without a backward glance?

The deep timbre of the man’s voice filtered to Ellie through the music and laughter, but she kept her head bent until the embarrassed blush receded from her features. “Thank you.”

He dropped a handful of sharp pieces onto her tray, and the gold cufflink on his white shirt cuff gleamed from beneath the dark sleeve of his jacket. His hand was strong, his fingers long and sensitive, with a smattering of black hair across his knuckles.

She swallowed and glanced up, her heart splitting in two. “Pet-e-r.”

His raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

“What are you doing here?” She held the tray between them like a defense, gripping it so tight her fingers hurt. Her stomach lurched; air whooshed from her lips and every fiber of her being buzzed with life on seeing him again. But with that came a profound sadness.

She turned away from his penetrating blue gaze. His relentless pursuit of his profession had nearly destroyed her and their marriage. She couldn’t go back to him. Wouldn’t.

Not unless he was willing to change … give her what she wanted, what she … they… deserved… a real marriage. Tears stung her eyelids, and she gulped them down with her next breath.

A melody drifted to her, a balm to her frazzled emotions. She’d been stagnating, except in the bedroom. And she wanted to be more to him than a bedroom playmate. In a desperate attempt to reclaim her life, and save her marriage, she had made a rash decision and fled.

She was playing a risky card, especially since he controlled the deck. Could she pull it off? Would he ever see her as more than a possession?

“Better question is” – he dropped a chipped martini glass on her tray, shattering her thoughts – “what’re you doing here, Ellie?”

He reached out to help her up, but she avoided his gesture and stood up on her own. It was doubtful a man like Peter, with a heritage steeped in tradition, would budge, even for her… or her father. Forgiveness was not one of his tendencies.

“Working.” She made to pass him and the broken goblets rattled precariously on the tray.

He blocked her path, his gaze gliding over her half-exposed breasts, then lower, taking in the full length of her. “So I see.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Peter.”

“What’s that?” he baited.

“That I’m— I’m—”

“Selling favors?”

“How dare you,” she snapped, raising a hand to slap him.

He intercepted it in mid-air, his fingers shackling her wrist. “How dare I?” His face was a thundercloud and his eyes bore into her. “You’re the one who deserted—”

“I did not.”

“No?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Suppose you tell me how it was, mmm?” This time he did take her elbow and led her toward the neon-lit exit.

“I can’t just leave in the middle of my shift.”

“Wanna bet?” He grabbed the tray from her hands, passed it to a waitress walking by and winked his thanks. Shrugging from his jacket, he draped it across Ellie’s shoulders and guided her through the mass of gyrating bodies.

“Hey, baby doll, how ’bout another number?” Someone called to her.

“Later.” Ellie waved. “Taking a break.”

“Cutest singin’ cocktail—”

“Trot on over, babe.” Raucous laughter.

A man staggered toward her and a camera flashed. Peter swung his arm out and knocked the camera from the snapper, sending it crashing to the floor. Shoving a hand in his pocket, he pulled out a couple of hundred-dollar bills and hurled them on the floor. “That should cover the damages, Louie,” he bit out, his eyes hard.

The loud music had muted the altercation and no one seemed to have noticed, except the three of them.

“What’s going on?” Ellie glared at Peter, then turned to the barrel-shaped man pocketing the cash and scuttling across the floor for his camera.