A Bride for a Billionaire by Lauren Hawkeye

Author:Lauren Hawkeye [Hawkeye, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult romance, billionaire, rachel van dyken, Harlequin Presents, virgin, marriage of convenience, contemporary romance
Publisher: Calluna Vulgaris Books
Published: 2014-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

RILEY

SURPRISINGLY, MATTEO LEAVES me alone after dropping his bombshell on me. He tells me to make myself at home, then strides away, stating that he has business to take care of that can’t wait.

I watch his ass as he leaves. The realization that somehow, someway, I’m about to marry that ass seems like something from the Twilight Zone.

It’s not a real marriage, Tremaine. Get it through your head before you get hurt. I know this, and yet... I can’t help but feel a tremor of excitement.

The choice has been taken out of my hands—I’m embarking on this wild ride. And I know I could protest further, but let’s be honest here.

What just happened, with the police? It scared the ever living hell out of me. Somehow, someway, I’ve found myself in way over my head. And marrying Matteo serves the dual purpose of letting me have the adventure that I not so secretly want, as well as protecting me.

But I only need so much protecting—maybe it’s the trailer park trash in me, but the more I think about the way Matteo’s bitch of a stepsister set me up, the more I feel the need to prove myself.

If I’m going to be married to someone like Matteo Benenati, then I’ll earn my keep by refusing to be an easy target. If I was in possession of my right mind, I’d never even dream of doing what I’m about to. But one thing I’ve never been able to tame, no matter how much I’ve tried, is my kneejerk reaction to all things unjust. It got the best of me in the airport, and it’s getting the better of me now.

I don’t care if Matteo’s stepsister is a rich, powerful woman. I only care that she tried to get me sent to prison.

Oh, hell to the no.

The blind fury carries me right out the door of that monstrosity of a house, right into the car that’s still waiting, and all the way to Benenati Enterprises, which is where Franco, the driver, thinks that Signorina Emilia will be today. I’m almost thwarted when I get inside the giant tower that houses my soon to be husband’s empire—I’m dressed like a bum, after all, and security doesn’t think I have any business there, strangely enough.

But as I argue with security, I note that, behind the lobby reception desk, an icy cool blonde has pressed a phone to her ear. She’s one of those ones who is tall, slim, and effortlessly stylish, and just looking at her makes me want to turn and run.

That’s the kind of woman that Matteo should marry, not a penniless American student with a whore—a literal whore—for a mother.

But though I can tell that she thinks she’s being sneaky about it, this woman is very, very interested in me. And when she puts the phone down and approaches the place where I’m standing, hands on my hips, glaring at the security guards, I know that I don’t mistake the slight glare that shoots out of her eyes.

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