Pride And The Italian's Proposal (Mills & Boon Modern)

  After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District, with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com.

  Also by Kate Hewitt

  Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir

  The Innocent’s One-Night Surrender

  Desert Prince’s Stolen Bride

  Princess’s Nine-Month Secret

  The Secret Kept from the Italian

  Greek’s Baby of Redemption

  Claiming My Bride of Convenience

  The Italian’s Unexpected Baby

  Vows to Save His Crown

  Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

  Pride and the Italian’s Proposal

  Kate Hewitt

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  ISBN: 978-0-008-91375-5

  PRIDE AND THE ITALIAN’S PROPOSAL

  © 2021 Kate Hewitt

  Published in Great Britain 2021

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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  Dedicated to all the P&P fans out there—may you find your Mr Darcy!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Booklist

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Extract

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘YOU’LL NEVER GUESS who just walked in!’

  Liza Benton looked at her younger sister’s flushed face and laughed. ‘I’m sure I won’t,’ she returned with a smile. ‘Considering I don’t know a single person in this place.’ She glanced around the busy bar in Soho, its interior all sleek wood and chrome stools, pounding music and bespoke cocktails. Right now it was full of glamorous people who had a lot more money and fashion sense than she did, and they seemed to be taking delight in showing both off.

  Liza had only moved to London from rural Herefordshire six weeks ago and she was still feeling a bit like a Country Mouse to a whole load of sleek Town Mice. But her younger sister Lindsay, visiting for the weekend with their mother Yvonne, was determined to be the belle of whatever ball—or bar—they frequented.

  It had been Lindsay who had assured Liza and their older sister Jenna that Rico’s was the place to be. ‘Everyone who’s anyone goes here,’ she’d said with a worldly insouciance that belied her seventeen years. Considering she’d hardly ever left their small village in Herefordshire save for a few school trips, Liza wasn’t sure how her sister would know such things, but she seemed confident that she did. Of course, Lindsay was confident—perhaps a bit too confident—about everything, including her own youthful charms.

  Looking around Rico’s now, Liza didn’t think it looked all that special, although she acknowledged she didn’t know much about these things. She hadn’t been to many bars, and hadn’t particularly wanted to. Her twenty-three years had been spent helping out with her large family and then getting her degree; socialising or romance hadn’t played much part at all, save for one unfortunate episode she had no desire to dwell on.

  ‘So who walked in?’ her older sister Jenna asked with a little laugh as Lindsay collapsed breathlessly onto the banquette next to her, determined to maximise the melodrama. Their mother took a sip of her violently coloured cocktail, eyes wide as she waited for her youngest daughter to dish. She loved a bit of gossip as much as Lindsay did.

  ‘Chaz Bingham,’ Lindsay announced triumphantly. Liza and Jenna both stared at her blankly but Yvonne nodded and tutted knowingly.

  ‘I saw him in a gossip magazine just last week. He’s recently inherited some sort of business, hasn’t he? Investments, I think?’ Her mother spoke with the same worldly air as her daughter, although she left Herefordshire even less than Lindsay did. All her knowledge was gained from TV chat shows and tabloid magazines, and treated as gospel.

  Lindsay shrugged, clearly not caring about such details. ‘Something like that. I know he’s loaded. Isn’t he gorgeous?’

  Liza met Jenna’s laughing gaze as they both silently acknowledged how their younger sister’s excited voice carried. The sophisticated occupants of the table next to theirs exchanged looks, and Liza rolled her eyes at Jenna. She’d never had time for snobs, and she’d encountered a few over the years, people who thought her family was a little too different, a little too loud—her lovably eccentric father, her exuberantly over-the-top mother, and the four Benton girls—pretty Jenna, smart Marie, fun Lindsay...and Liza. Liza had no idea what her sobriquet would be. Quiet, perhaps? Normal? Dull? She knew she possessed neither Jenna’s looks nor Marie’s brains, and definitely not Lindsay’s vivacity. That had been made apparent to her on more than one occasion, often by well-meaning people, but once...

  She really had no desire to dwell on that now, when th
ey were having so much fun and apparently someone exciting had walked into the bar, even if she’d never heard of him.

  ‘Where is he?’ their mother asked, her eyes on stalks as she rubbernecked for a glimpse of the mysterious but apparently impressive Chaz Bingham.

  ‘There.’ Lindsay pointed towards the entrance of the bar, and Liza muffled a chuckle.

  ‘Shall we make an announcement on the Tannoy system?’ she asked wryly, and her sister gave her a blank look.

  ‘Liza, a bar like this isn’t going to have a Tannoy.’

  ‘Silly me,’ she murmured, and Jenna smiled before she suddenly let out a soft, wondering gasp that had Liza curious enough to see who all the fuss was about. She glanced towards the entrance of the bar and her breath caught as her gaze snagged on the man who had just come in. Now that she’d seen him, it was impossible not to notice him. Not to feel as if he took up all the space and air in the place.

  He was half a head taller than anyone else in the room, with ink-black hair pushed away from a high aristocratic forehead. Steel-grey eyes under hooded brows scanned the room dismissively, a cynical twist to his sculpted mouth that Liza could see all the way from across the room. Cheekbones like blades and a hard chiselled jaw worthy of any of the steamy novels that Lindsay loved to read.

  His powerful physique was encased in a snowy-white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal a bronzed, alluring column of throat—how a neck could be sexy, Liza had no idea, and yet it was—and narrow black trousers, an outfit that would suit a waiter, and yet such a thought was laughable when it came to this man.

  Everything about him exuded power, wealth, influence and, most of all, arrogance. He looked as if he not only owned this bar, but the entire world. Normally Liza hated conceit of any kind—and she had good reason for it—but this combination of blatant sex appeal and innate arrogance was both compelling and disturbing and, unable to make sense of her thoughts, she forced herself to look away.

  ‘Did you see him?’ Lindsay demanded, and Liza jerked her head in a nod. How could she not have seen him? Even now, looking away, she could still visualise him perfectly—from that twist of his lips to the powerful shrug of his shoulders. He was emblazoned on her mind’s eye, which was another disturbing thought. Why had she reacted so viscerally to a stranger?

  ‘Jenna, I think he’s noticed you,’ Yvonne whispered excitedly, although her whisper was as loud as Lindsay’s, especially after two of her fancy cocktails. Jenna smiled and flushed.

  Liza glanced up; the dark-haired Adonis wasn’t looking anywhere near her sister, but a friendly-looking man with rumpled blond hair and ruddy cheeks was, with obvious interest. This was Chaz Bingham? Then who was the other man?

  Unthinkingly, she looked for him, only to find herself suddenly speared on his sardonic gaze for a terrible second, his steely eyes blazing into hers and branding her with their knowledge before, indifferently, he looked away.

  ‘He’s coming closer!’ Lindsay squealed and, turning away from the man who had so casually dismissed her, Liza wished her sister wasn’t quite so loud.

  Amazingly, Chaz really was coming closer to their table. Liza braced herself, wondering if he was going to ask them to lower their voices, or maybe if he could have the chair they’d piled all their coats on, but he did nothing of the kind. He gave Jenna an immensely appealing smile before turning to them all, including them easily in his friendliness.

  ‘I say, may I buy you a drink?’

  ‘Oh...’ Jenna was blushing prettily, and Liza smiled at the man’s gentlemanly charm, as well as his obvious interest in her beautiful sister. With her long, tumbling blonde hair and vivid blue eyes, not to mention her curvy figure, Jenna had never been without admirers. Amazingly, her beauty hadn’t made her vain in the least; she’d barely had a boyfriend, and she always seemed surprised by the attention she received. Liza, however, was not, and she had never resented her sister’s popularity...even when it had caused her pain.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Lindsay said, elbowing Jenna meaningfully, and the man—Chaz—smiled and took their orders.

  ‘Of all the women in the whole room,’ their mother whispered triumphantly when he’d gone to the bar, ‘he chose you!’

  ‘Mum, he’s just buying me a drink,’ Jenna protested, but Liza saw how her gaze tracked Chaz as he headed towards the bar. Her own gaze moved instinctively to the other man in the room, a man who created a tingling awareness all through her body even when he wasn’t looking at her. He was clearly with Chaz, for he’d joined him at the bar, propping one elbow upon it as he talked to him, his bored, sardonic gaze moving slowly and disinterestedly around the room.

  Really, the look on his face was rather ridiculously arrogant, almost a parody of what Liza imagined some lord of the manor would look like as he gazed down upon his peasants. She felt a thorny spike of annoyance pierce her; why did such a good-looking man have to be so proud? Looks weren’t everything and yet, Liza acknowledged with an inward sigh, in this world they certainly counted for a lot. She’d discovered that to her detriment—plain Liza compared to pretty Jenna for most of her childhood—and when it had mattered.

  ‘When he comes back,’ their mother instructed Jenna, interrupting Liza’s thoughts, ‘for heaven’s sake, invite him to sit down.’

  ‘Mum—’

  ‘Of course she’s going to invite him to sit down,’ Lindsay interjected with a scoffing laugh. ‘And if she won’t, I will. I tell you, he’s loaded.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll appreciate the invitation quite as much, coming from you,’ Liza interjected with a smile, and her sister gave her a fulminating look. Liza reached for her white wine, which only had one sip left in the glass; she’d declined Chaz Bingham’s offer of a top-up. Would Chaz sit down with them if he was asked? she wondered. And if he did, would his dark, proud friend join him? Her heart tumbled over at the thought, and she decided she needed to fortify herself with more wine.

  ‘Liza, where are you going?’ her mother demanded, pulling on her sleeve. ‘Chaz will be coming back any second—’

  Already it was Chaz, she thought wryly. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet. ‘I’ve decided I want a glass of wine after all,’ Liza said, and with her heart fluttering a little she headed towards the bar—and the intriguing man leaning against it.

  ‘Why on earth did you choose this place?’ Fausto Danti glanced around the crowded bar with a grimace of distaste. Having arrived in London from Milan only that afternoon, he’d been hoping for a quiet dinner in a discreet and select club with his old university friend, not a booze-up in a bar that looked like it was full of tourists and college students.

  Chaz glanced at him, full of good humour as always. ‘What, you don’t like it?’ he queried innocently. Fausto did not dignify his question with a reply. ‘You’ve always been something of a snob, Danti.’

  ‘I prefer to consider myself discerning.’

  ‘You need to loosen up. I’ve been telling you that since our uni days. And come on.’ He nodded meaningfully towards the table with its bevy of squawking women. ‘Isn’t she the loveliest creature you’ve ever seen?’

  ‘She’s nice enough,’ Fausto allowed, because he had to admit the woman Chaz had set eyes on the second they’d walked through the door was really rather beautiful. ‘She’s the only pretty one among them.’

  ‘I thought her sisters were nice enough.’

  ‘Sisters?’ Fausto arched an imperious eyebrow. ‘How do you know they’re not all just friends?’

  Chaz shrugged. ‘They all have a similar look about them, and the older one is clearly their mother. Anyway, I intend to get to know them all. And you can do the same.’

  Fausto snorted at such an unlikely suggestion. ‘I have no desire to do any such thing.’

  ‘What about the one with curly hair?’

  ‘She looked as plain and boring as the other, if
not more so,’ Fausto replied. He’d barely glanced at any of the women; he had no intention of picking someone up in a place like this, or even picking up someone at all. His stomach tightened with distaste at the thought.

  He’d left such pursuits behind him long ago...and for good reason. He was here in England to deal with the fallout of the London office only, and then he was returning to Italy, where his mother was hoping he would soon announce his choice of bride. His stomach tightened again at that thought, although he knew there was no question of not fulfilling his duty.

  ‘Oh, come on, Danti,’ Chaz insisted. ‘Relax, if you can remember how. I know you’ve been working hard these last few years, but let’s have some fun.’

  ‘This is generally not how I amuse myself,’ Fausto replied as he took the tumbler of whisky from the bartender with a terse nod of thanks. ‘And certainly not with a couple of obnoxious, gold-digging women who look poised to fawn over your every word.’ He’d heard the younger one jabber about how much money Chaz had, not even caring who might be listening.

  ‘Fawning over my every word? That’s more your style, mate.’ Chaz patted him on the arm and Fausto gave him a tight-lipped smile, even as he felt an uncanny frisson of—something—ripple through him, an awareness he didn’t understand, but certainly felt.

  He turned swiftly, expecting someone to be standing right next to him, but no one was. He scanned the crowded room but saw only the dull mix of middle class Londoners out for an evening of cocktails and fun.

  ‘Come on,’ Chaz said as he hoisted the drinks he’d bought for the motley crew of women, including a revolting-looking cocktail that was garnished with a pink umbrella and no less than three maraschino cherries.

  With the utmost reluctance, Fausto followed his friend towards the table of eagerly waiting women. The blonde Chaz had set his sights on was indeed attractive, if in a rather simple way. There was no guile in her clear gaze, no depths to discover in her open face. Yet, Fausto concluded fairly, he would not necessarily consider her looks insipid.