Shelves: , hurray-and-happy-i-read-it , fell-off-my-chair-laughing , the-tropy-of-the-tropiest , seekrit-baby , kiddie-drama , dp-crackalicious , hero-totally-puts-the-boot-in , blackmail-hp-style , sewage-slurper-relatives This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. The h in this one is Darcy and she too has a shot at a million dollar inheritance if she manages to get married for six months. Darcy needs the money. Her father, who was an idiot, left her a year old family estate in deep dept and her slime gulping evil step mother and step sister are hell bent on getting Darcy to sell so they can claim part of the proceeds.
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Translucent skin, a mane of vibrant Titian hair and spellbinding eyes as green as peridots behind her flirtatious little mask. What would be the point? No woman had ever looked on him as a one-night stand. The shock of such treatment had been profound.
And then Luca had simply not been able to credit that some unscrupulous little tart had contrived to rip him off with such insulting ease. With the cool of a self-discipline renowned in the world of international finance, he resisted the temptation to rip open the file like an impatient boy. He had waited a long time for this moment.
He could wait a little longer. Even swollen with pride as Benito was at finally succeeding in his search, even convinced by the facts that he had to have the right woman, Benito still found himself stiffening with uncertainty. As Luca tensed and a frown grew on his strong dark face, setting his pure bone structure to the cold consistency of granite, Benito paled, suddenly convinced that he had made a complete ass of himself.
That bedraggled female image sported worn jeans, wellington boots, a battered rain-hat and a muddy jacket with a long rip in one sleeve. More bag lady than gorgeous seductress. Without a doubt, it is her…the devious little thief who turned me over like a professional! The Raffacani family had been princes since the Middle Ages. To mark the occasion of the birth of his son, the very first principe had given his wife, Adorata, the magnificent ruby ring.
Yet in spite of that rich family heritage, and the considerable value of the jewel, the police had not been informed of the theft. The host had vanished, for one thing. And if it was actually true that Gianluca Raffacani had vanished in order to romance the thief with something as deeply uncool for a native Venetian as a moonlit gondola tour of the city, Benito could perfectly understand why the police had been excluded from the distinctly embarrassing repercussions of that evening.
No male would wish to confess to such a cardinal error of judgement. In spite of the substantial reward which had been dangled like bait in the relevant quarters, the ring had not been seen since. Most probably it had been disposed of in England—secretly acquired by some rich collector content not to question its provenance. Benito had been extremely disappointed when the investigator failed to turn up the slightest evidence of Darcy Fielding having a previous criminal record.
The vengeful husband
the Vengeful Husband
The Vengeful Husband