Buch lesen: «The Morretti Millionaires»

Chapter 1

“Forget it. No way,” Romeo Morretti snapped, struggling to control his temper. Scowling though his publicist couldn’t see him through the phone, he turned off the stereo system inside his yellow Lamborghini Veneno and took a deep breath. Every morning as he drove to work, Giuseppe Del Piero called to discuss social events in and around Milan. But for the first time in eight years Romeo wished he’d let the call go to voice mail. “I’d sooner run through the city center naked singing ‘Ave Maria’ than appear on that pathetic gossip show.”

“But you love the spotlight,” Giuseppe argued. “Always have, always will.”

“In light of everything that’s happened in recent weeks I think it’s best I lie low,” he said, rubbing his tired eyes. Working fourteen-hour days, seven days a week, was starting to take its toll on him. Romeo loved his company, Morretti Finance and Investments, and wanted it to achieve even greater success. Hence, he was working around the clock. “I need to focus on my clients, instead of wasting my time doing magazine interviews and TV shows.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The press love you, and they’re obsessed with your fabulous, jet-setting lifestyle. You’re the Italian version of James Bond minus the Secret Service thing. If you shy away from the public now it could hurt your bottom line.”

“Life is about more than just money.”

Giuseppe scoffed, as if he’d never heard anything more outrageous in his life. “Tell that to my three teenage daughters. The more moolah I give them, the more they want.”

Romeo stopped at the intersection and stared out the window. His gaze landed on the corner newsstand, zeroing in on the headline splashed across the front of Celebrity Patella. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his veins throbbed.

Scanning the glossy magazine cover, he read the large, bold title—The Morretti Family, Sex, Lies and Secrets Exposed!—and gritted his teeth. For the umpteenth time, he wondered where he’d gone wrong, and cursed the day he’d met Lizabeth Larsen. He’d become acquainted with the lingerie model at a beach in Portugal and it had been lust at first sight.

How could Lizabeth do this to me? Doesn’t she have a heart? Romeo couldn’t wrap his head around what she’d done. They’d been broken up for over a year, and he hadn’t seen or heard from her in months, so why now? Why was she trying to ruin him? She’d given a tell-all interview to the trashy gossip magazine, and now the entire city was buzzing about the salacious story. Lizabeth had shared intimate details about their sex life and had also bad-mouthed his family. Thankfully, his brothers and cousins lived in the States and would probably never see the issue. Romeo, on the other hand, couldn’t go anywhere in Milan without people staring at him.

He swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat grew. The negative things Lizabeth had said about his family played in his mind. To his shock, she’d discussed his nephew’s fatal pool accident at his brother Emilio’s estate, the embezzlement accusations against his cousin Nicco, and his cousin Rafael’s baby-mama drama in Washington years earlier. But what hurt Romeo more than anything were the lies she’d told about his deceased mother. He only hoped his grandparents, who lived in a small coastal fishing town, didn’t hear about Lizabeth’s interview.

“You have to do the show,” Giuseppe insisted, raising his voice.

His enthusiasm was palpable, but Romeo didn’t share in his publicist’s excitement. “I don’t have to do shit. It’s my decision, not yours, so tell your producer friend at the TV station that I’m not interested in doing a sit-down interview tomorrow. Or any day for that matter.”

“Lizabeth made explosive claims about you, and I hear she’s planning to publish a tell-all book about your on-again, off-again relationship later as well.”

Reeling from the news, Romeo spoke through clenched teeth. “Good for her.”

“Want some advice?”

No, he thought, raking a hand through his thick brown hair. I want you to quit badgering me, and cancel all of my public appearances for the rest of the week. I need a break. I’m feeling run down, and I don’t want to end up in the hospital again. Romeo shuddered to think what would have happened if Giuseppe hadn’t found him in his home office that fateful day in August, and pressed his eyes shut to clear his mind. His hospital stay last year had been a huge wake-up call, and Romeo wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stand in the way of his health or his happiness. If that meant keeping a low profile, so be it.

“Go on Lifestyle TV, tell your side of the story, then give Lizabeth a million-dollar cash settlement to make her disappear once and for all...”

His eyes wide, he started down at his cell phone, unable to believe what he was hearing. Romeo didn’t need this shit. Not today. Every day brought new headaches and problems, and yesterday was no exception. As he was leaving his office for the day, he’d received a phone call from his executive team, and their conversation had left a bitter taste in his mouth. One of his favorite clients, Julio Mario Domínguez, had publicly humiliated Romeo’s staff at a business conference in Venice, and his repeated attempts to contact the billionaire businessman had been unsuccessful. The Colombian native was one of his wealthiest and most influential clients, and even though Romeo wanted to keep the entrepreneur happy, he had to stick up for his staff.

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing. It’s the only answer. If you don’t give her a cash settlement, she’ll crucify you and your family in the media.”

“A cash settlement? For what? Being mean and vindictive? No way. It’s not going to happen.” It was only seven o’clock in the morning, but his day was going from bad to worse. Talking to Giuseppe, a jovial character with a boisterous laugh, usually put Romeo in a good mood. Not today. His publicist wanted him to go on TV and dish the dirt about his family, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he wanted him to pay Lizabeth off. Hell. To. The. No.

The light turned green, and Romeo stepped on the gas pedal, speeding down the street as if he were on a racetrack. He couldn’t believe this was happening—again. Not after everything he’d done for Lizabeth over the years. During their tumultuous, drama-filled relationship, he’d showered her with designer clothes, Cartier jewelry, luxury cars and world-class trips, and how did she replay him? By dragging his name through the mud. Through friends, he’d learned of her bitter quest for revenge, and if Romeo didn’t respect her ailing father he’d sue her. “I’ve given Lizabeth enough money to last a lifetime. I’m not giving her another dime.”

An awkward silence infected the phone line. Romeo knew Giuseppe was upset, but he had to do what was right for him, not his publicist. A clean, refreshing scent wafted through the open window, and Romeo took a deep breath. The sun was shining, and the sky was a radiant shade of blue, but the balmy November temperature wasn’t enough to brighten his mood. He was so angry about Lizabeth’s interview his entire body was tense, and he decided a midday workout was in order. At lunch, instead of going to his favorite restaurant with his executive team, he’d use the speed bag in the office gym. Then he’d have a Cuban cigar. He hadn’t smoked since he was discharged from the hospital last year, but he was having the day from hell, and a stogie was the perfect antidote for his stress.

“You’re the boss,” Giuseppe said. “Like you always say, there’s no such thing as bad press. We’ll find a way to spin the story to your advantage, and you’ll come out on top.”

I was wrong. There is such a thing as bad press, Romeo thought with a heavy heart. This was a nightmare. He’d never been more humiliated in his life, and he hated the cruel, spiteful things his ex-fiancée had said about the people he loved most. Thinking about the lies Lizabeth had told the magazine about him, Romeo decided to call Markos later for legal advice.

A smile curled the corners of his lips. Two weeks ago, he’d traveled to Los Angeles to be the best man at his brother’s wedding. It still blew his mind that Markos had tied the knot. Years ago, Markos was a workaholic, determined to be the most successful attorney in the state of California, but program director for a non-profit organization, Tatiyana Washington had captured his heart, and now they were husband and wife.

Giuseppe yapped on and on about creative and innovative ways to increase Romeo’s online presence, but Romeo’s mind wandered. A year ago, the buzz about his company had reached an all-time high. Thanks to his team, his carefully cultivated image had not only added to his insane popularity in Italy, it attracted women like a sale sign in a boutique window. In the hopes of meeting him, socialites and heiresses had flocked to his office in droves, and once there, he had convinced them to invest with his company. A favorite of gossip bloggers, there was a time when Romeo enjoyed the spotlight. The more brazen he was, the more the public seemed to love him, especially the opposite sex.

Slowing down to allow a jaywalker to cross the street, he reflected on the highs and lows of his life in Milan. He’d done it all—partied too hard, drunk too much and spent money recklessly—but after his hospital stay he’d turned over a new leaf. Quit drinking, smoking cigars and eating like a college frat boy. At thirty-two, hooking up with a different woman every night of the week had lost its appeal, and although he had a life most men would kill for, Romeo felt empty inside, lonely now that his closest friends had wives and children. One by one, his brothers and cousins had found love, and they were all ridiculously happy. Romeo wondered if he was missing out on something. Everyone around him was moving forward, and he was stuck in neutral. For months, he’d been playing it safe, doing everything right and following his doctor’s orders, but Christmas was right around the corner and he wanted to enjoy the holidays without stressing out about his health. Or his bitter ex-fiancée.

“Handle it, Giuseppe. I don’t want this story hanging over my head during the holidays. Make it go away, now.”

“Nessun problema. Leave everything to me. I know just what to do.”

“You better,” he said in a stern voice. “Or you’re fired.”

Giuseppe chuckled. “You wouldn’t survive a day without me, and you know it.”

A grin overwhelmed his mouth. It was true. Giuseppe wasn’t just his publicist, he was also a confidante and a trusted friend. If not for Giuseppe, Romeo wouldn’t be alive. “Are you on your way to the office or are you having breakfast with Bellisa again?”

“Bellisa is my breakfast,” he said with a throaty laugh. “I’ll give you a ring in the afternoon, but promise me you’ll give some thought to what I said about Lizabeth.”

“There’s nothing to think about.” Switching lanes, Romeo punched the gas. “I’m not giving her a damn thing.”

“A million euros is chump change to you.”

“Dammit, Giuseppe, it’s not about the money.”

Making a right turn, Romeo heard something hit the passenger-side door and slammed on the brakes. Frowning, he peered in the rearview mirror. His heart stopped. His cell phone fell from his hands and dropped to his feet. Fearing the worst, Romeo took off his seat belt, threw open his car door and ran around the trunk.

Romeo surveyed the scene. A purple mountain bike lay in a tangled heap on the road along with the contents of a handbag. A woman of Caribbean descent with caramel-brown skin, delicate facial features and waist-length black braids sat on the sidewalk, shaking uncontrollably. Filled with concern, he moved toward her, speaking in a quiet tone of voice.

“Miss, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Romeo tried to help her to her feet, but she pushed his hands away. Standing, she straightened her short sleeveless dress and brushed the dirt off the hem. Watching her every move, he admired everything about her—her almond-shaped eyes, the beauty mark above her lips, the diamond hoop earrings that grazed her shoulders and her womanly physique. He guessed she was in her early twenties, around the same age as his kid sister, Francesca, and suspected she was an exchange student.

Glaring at him, it was obvious she was pissed, and Romeo didn’t blame her. He should have been paying attention to the road instead of arguing with Giuseppe about his ex. He’d messed up, and now because of his mistake the cyclist was staring at him with tears in her eyes.

Romeo swallowed hard. Feeling like a specimen under a microspore, his throat dried, and sweat drenched his suit jacket. If looks could kill, he’d be dead, and the coroner would be notifying his next of kin. For the first time in Romeo’s life he was tongue-tied, in such a state of shock he couldn’t speak. And not just because he’d accidentally struck a cyclist with his car; he was transfixed by the woman’s natural beauty. There weren’t a lot of people of color in Milan, and she was such a knockout that Romeo couldn’t stop staring at her. Her full, sensuous lips and her Lord-have-mercy curves were captivating, instantly seizing his attention.

Romeo was intrigued by her, wanted to know her story. Where was she from? And most importantly, was she single? The woman was off-the-charts hot, and if they’d met under different circumstances he definitely would have asked her out. But since Romeo didn’t want her to think he was an insensitive jerk, he quit lusting and wore an apologetic smile. “Miss, I feel horrible about what happened.”

Drawn to her, he stepped forward, eager to make amends for what he’d done. Romeo felt like an ass. Guilt-ridden, he opened his mouth to apologize again, but her strident voice filled the air.

“Are you blind?” she shouted. “You could have killed me with your stupid sports car!”

A crowd of curious onlookers had gathered around them, and Romeo wished everyone—except the dark-skinned beauty with the American accent—would disappear. Well-traveled, with vacation homes and real estate properties all across the United States, he guessed she was visiting from New York and wondered how long she’d be in Milan.

The woman gestured to the road, an incredulous expression on her flawless oval face. “I had the right of way, but you turned right into me. What’s wrong with you? You couldn’t wait ten seconds for me to cross the street?”

“Miss, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you—”

“Of course you didn’t see me,” she shot back. “You were too busy on your cell phone.”

“You’re right,” Romeo conceded. “I should have been paying more attention to the road.”

“Jerk,” she mumbled, shaking her head in disgust. “You should lose your license.”

Gasps and whispers ripped through the well-dressed Milanese crowd. A camera flashed in Romeo’s face, then another one, and he knew it was just a matter of time before everyone in the city knew about his morning traffic accident. Great, he thought, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black, suit pants. That’s all I need. More bad press.

Horns blared, and pedestrians complained as they maneuvered their way around the accident scene. An irate driver in a gleaming white Porsche stuck his head out the window and yelled in Italian about the traffic jam. Romeo’s car was blocking the intersection, but the street was so narrow that there was nowhere for him to move it. “The accident was my fault, and I take full responsibility for it,” he said, hoping to defuse the situation. “I’ll pay to replace your bike, your dress and all of the contents in your purse as well—”

“How benevolent of you, Mr. Morretti, but I don’t want anything from you.”

His mouth fell open, and seconds passed before he spoke. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. I haven’t been living under a rock the last two years.”

“You live here? In Milan?” Romeo asked. “Where?”

A bearded man holding a leather satchel made his way through the crowd. “My name is Lucan Bianchi and I’m an emergency room doctor at Milan General Hospital,” he explained, addressing the cyclist. “Is it okay if I check you out while we wait for the paramedics to arrive?”

Nodding, the woman allowed the doctor to lead her over to a wooden bench under a cluster of lush green trees, and she took seat. To Romeo’s relief, most of the spectators put their cell phones away and moved on. He heard sirens in the distance, knew the police were on their way to the scene and considered calling Giuseppe back. This was bad. Worse than the stories about him in the tabloids. He’d screwed up and needed his public relations director to work his magic again.

Romeo shook his head. No. He’d handle it. He’d take responsibility for his actions and would deal with the consequences, whatever they may be. But a chilling thought came to mind, and a shudder ripped through his body. What if there was footage of his accident? If the police brought charges against him, would his reputation suffer? Would his billionaire clients take their investments elsewhere? His pulse drummed in his ears, deafening him. Romeo could see the headlines now: Woman Struck by Morretti Millionaire! Wealthy Businessman Charged with Careless Driving! Jail Time for Bad-Boy Tycoon!

“Zoe, where are you visiting from?”

The sound of the doctor’s voice interrupted Romeo’s thoughts. Eager to learn more about the cyclist, he listened closely to the conversation she was having with the physician. It was a challenge, but Romeo blocked out all the noises on the busy street and committed everything about her to memory. Her name was Zoe Smith; she’d lived in Milan for two years and was the PR director for the fashion house Casa Di Moda. He’d never heard of the company before, but made a mental note to Google it when he returned to his car.

Trying to appear casual, he moved closer to the bench and listened in. Romeo was used to meeting beautiful females and had no shortage of admirers, but this was the first—and only—time in his life a woman had left him flustered, desperate to be in her presence. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her and wished he could trade places with the doctor. The physician had the pleasure of touching her, and as Romeo stared at the dark-skinned beauty, all he could think about was kissing her. Undressing her. Making love to her at his villa. And he would. But first, Romeo had to save his neck.