For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) Read online

  “Because…what?” Again, his lips curved in that sexy little smirk, which even in her pain didn’t fail to make her body tingle all over.

  “Because you’re meeting with someone,” Lane snapped in a rare display of annoyance. “Happy now?” The words were supposed to come out a snarl, but she ended all choked up with hurt disappointment.

  The stranger released her chin. “See you later.” And just like that, he turned and started to walk away.

  “I said you don’t have to,” she muttered resentfully.

  “Even when I tell you I’m only meeting up with the college dean for work?” the stranger answered without looking back.

  Her eyes widened.

  “And have I mentioned the dean also happens to be fifty years old, bald, and male?” But he was getting farther and farther away from her now, and she barely heard his next words, spoken in a musing tone. “But then, if you think I shouldn’t be checking up on you—”

  “NO!” Lane clapped her hands over her mouth, shocked that she had actually ended up yelling the word out.

  The stranger stopped walking.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  She hurried after him, and by the time she reached the stranger he had already turned to face her, a familiar smirk on his strong, beautiful face.

  “You don’t seem to have a hurt ankle—”

  She didn’t hesitate, pretending to limp on the last few steps.

  His laughter rang out, and this time she realized what made it so different, what made her want to hear it again and again.

  Lane stumbled to a stop.

  She was suddenly perilously close to tears.

  His laughter…reminded her of Laura.

  Her brazen sense of joy, her indomitable spirit, her fierce love—

  Against all odds.

  “Are you okay?” Her fallen angel was in front of her again, his tone a mixture of wariness and worry, and she couldn’t blame him at all. She had to look crazy in his eyes right now, with the way she was flirting outrageously with him one moment and then fighting back tears the next.

  “I’m not crazy, I promise,” she told him, trying but failing to repress her smile.

  “If I weren’t a gentleman, I’d admit to being unconvinced.”

  “You already said it,” she pointed out helplessly.

  “Then I guess I’m not a gentleman.” And his silvery eyes gleamed in a way that told her there were other ungentlemanly things he wanted to do.

  Oh, Looooooord.

  And she heard herself ask breathlessly, “You’ll check on me later?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Please?” She had never flirted in her entire life until now, but somehow the words came so easily to her, never mind if she couldn’t help blushing while she said them.

  “We’ll see,” he repeated firmly. And it was clear in the way wickedness flashed in his silvery gaze that he liked hearing her beg, liked keeping her on her toes.

  Lane watched him go, and not once did he look back even though he had to be aware of how her gaze followed his every movement.

  Sadist, she thought absently, but for some reason, this didn’t displease her at all.

  ****

  “He’s made you wait for two hours now,” Josh told his co-worker disapprovingly. “Accept it. He stood you up.” Earlier, Lane had told him about her encounter with her so-called fallen angel, and he had been aghast. He had promptly given her a lecture about stranger danger, even going as far as showing her online clips of murder victims who had fallen prey to fatal attraction.

  But Lane had only stubbornly shaken her head.

  “He’s not like that—”

  “You don’t even know his name, and you certainly can’t be sure all he’s told you isn’t bullshit—” He immediately knew he had said the wrong thing, remembering belatedly the way Lane disliked swearing.

  But what about her fallen angel, he thought with ill-concealed resentment. The way she was so obviously crazy about him, he was willing to bet if that stupid jerk, whoever he was, started swearing, she would probably think it was sexy.

  Still, the way Lane was looking at him with such disappointment was unbearable, and Josh was no match against it.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  Lane knew Josh thought she was being a prude about swearing, but she also knew she could never explain the truth to him, knew that he would never understand how it had impacted her, having spent her childhood years in the seediest bars, hanging out with prostitutes and pimps.

  Her stomach growled, and she bit her lip, hesitating.

  Josh was looking at her incredulously. “Are you serious?”

  “What?” she asked defensively.

  “You’d rather starve than—” Lane’s glare made him think twice about finishing his sentence. “Go grab a quick bite. I’ll watch out for your—” His lip curled. “Fallen angel.”

  “He won’t be easy to miss,” she told him seriously. “He’s tall, dark, handsome, and he really looks like a fallen angel.”

  “Yeah, sure.” But then Lane gave him a quick hug, and it was hard to maintain his anger.

  “Thanks, Josh.”

  Her sweet smile did him in. Thank God he was poor as dirt or she would never be able to smile at him like that, Josh thought gratefully.

  “If he comes, tell him I’m at Millie’s, okay?” Lane walked backwards towards the exit doors as she spoke.

  “Yup.” Not.

  When she left, he went back to stocking the shelves, a dreamy look on his face. He had made Lane Petersen smile. It was the best feeling ever, he thought.

  Minutes passed, and there were no signs of Lane’s fallen angel. He started whistling. Angel, ha, he thought with a snort. Yeah right. A demon was more like it.

  Behind him, Josh heard the store doors swish open, and he turned around to greet the next customer—

  Shit.

  Josh found himself staring at a man who could only be described as a—

  Tall.

  Dark.

  Handsome.

  Fallen angel.

  Double shit, triple shit, all the shittiest things in the world could not compare to how Josh felt at that moment.

  The stranger was an inch over six feet, and his Mediterranean heritage was very much evident in his dark eyes and olive-toned skin.

  “Good evening.” His tone was faintly accented, but his English was polished, like someone who had learned the language in a private academy. “I’m looking for someone who possibly works here…” He described Lane’s features in a brief but concise manner.

  “Sorry, no one like that works here.” The words were out before Josh could think of what he was doing.

  The stranger’s eyebrow arched slightly. “Is that so?”

  “Yup. So, if that’s all—” The stranger’s gaze suddenly narrowed, and it was as if he had sensed Josh’s words were nothing but a lie.

  “Are you certain?”

  The stranger’s silkily spoken question chafed, and Josh heard himself say defensively, “Well, if there was one like her, she’s my girlfriend, and you probably turned her head around only because you’re loaded.” His tone became savage. “It doesn’t mean she really likes you or anything,” he finished with a glare, but the stranger’s bland expression didn’t change.

  “I see.”

  Josh waited tensely for the stranger’s next move, ready to get into a fistfight if that was what things called for. He had been patient with Lane, dammit. He would not just stand by and let some fancy foreign dude—

  “I am sorry for the unintentional intrusion.” The stranger inclined his head in an oddly old-fashioned gesture of apology.

  “Uh…” The display of manners threw Josh off.

  The stranger gave him a nod before turning away to leave.

  Josh paled.

  That was that…right?

  He had gotten rid of his competition.

  And that was okay…right?

  All was fair i
n love and war…right?

  Lane came back ten minutes later, her face hopeful as she hurried to him, asking, “Did anyone come by?”

  “If there was, I’d have sent him to Millie’s, don’t you think?” But he couldn’t meet Lane’s gaze as he spoke. She’s going to be disappointed, but it’s for the better. That guy has ‘player’ written all over him—

  “He’ll probably come tomorrow,” he heard Lane say brightly.

  His head jerked up. “What?”

  Lane shrugged. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

  His jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding me. He stood you up, Lane.” Actually, this wasn’t true, but the man did make his friend wait for several hours, and that was almost as uncool.

  “He has his reasons,” Lane said calmly. And despite Josh’s words planting the tiniest seed of doubt in her heart, she refused to let it grow.

  She would see her fallen angel again, and everything would be okay after that.

  But this turned out to be only half true.

  Chapter Two

  It took an entire week before Lane saw him again.

  It was orientation day of the legal management seminar she had signed up for, and Lane had taken one of the seats at the back, not wanting to draw any attention. While therapy had enabled her to lead a somewhat normal life, her therapist had also been honest with her.

  Lane would never be the same again.

  But how much her fears would affect her was up to Lane.

  And so here she was, Lane thought ruefully. Ever the masochist, she had accepted the scholarship offered by Christopoulos University, which wasn’t just thousands of miles away from home. It was also the school for rich kids – no, wait, that wasn’t right. CU was the school for the richest and best-looking kids.

  Every day was a silent torture, and lately, it had been made worse by the depression that was stealthily finding its way to her heart.

  In front of the class, the dean was telling them about how special they were to have been selected for this extremely special seminar.

  “You’ve been accepted based not just on your grades but your potential as well. We believe that you have what it takes to do spectacularly in your chosen fields.” The dean cleared his throat. “And so, without further ado, I would like to introduce two of my former students who have graciously accepted my invitation to be your mentors.”

  The dean gestured towards the doors on his right, as if beckoning someone to come in. The doors opened and a tall, dark-haired man in a conservative-looking suit entered.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Steel March, CEO of the Beaufort-March Enterprises.”

  The guys in the room clapped politely, while almost half of the girls in the room shrieked.

  Lane blinked, utterly taken aback by the class’ reception. Was he a celebrity or something?

  “He’s mine, darn it,” she heard the girl next to her mumble very distinctly.

  Surprised, Lane turned to face her, and the blonde appeared startled then dismayed.

  “Oh God, you heard me?” She was tiny and enviably slim, with large blue eyes dominating her classically beautiful face. She was also dressed rather provocatively, with her black dress high-necked in front but dipping up to her waist at the back.

  Rich, Lane’s mind warned her, and she was immediately wary. She said cautiously, “Yes.”

  The girl slumped in her seat. “Don’t tell him, okay.”

  Lane was confused. Tell…whom?

  But before she could ask, the dean was introducing the other mentor. “Angelo Valencia III. He was previously a Student Council President of our university,” the dean shared proudly before proceeding with the other accomplishments of his former student.

  Angelo, she mused absently. That was a nice name.

  “And now, let’s hear from our mentors,” Lane heard the dean say. “We’ll start with the one who gave me more trouble as a student, and that, my dear children, is none other than Angelo.”

  The class laughed, and so did…he.

  And that was when she knew.

  Her head jerked up.

  And when she frantically searched for him, she realized she didn’t have to look hard at all.

  Because he had already been gazing at her from the start.

  Because from the very moment he had walked into the room, he had known she was there, and that upon seeing her, his body had gone still and his blood had turned cold.

  The entire time the dean had been talking about him, his attention had been completely focused on her, and he had not been able to understand why she had not looked up when he entered the room or when the dean had mentioned his name.

  Instead, he had seen her look up only at the sound of his laughter, magnified by the microphone pinned to the lapel of his suit.

  And now, she was staring at him, and for one moment he could not stop himself from gazing back at her. Even as he exchanged banter with the dean, even as he continued with the rest of his speech, he claimed her gaze—

  Until he remembered that she already belonged to someone else.

  His jaw clenched, and this time he looked away and never glanced back at her again. Even when it was Steel’s turn to speak, even when he could feel her stunned, wide-eyed gaze on him the entire time, he did not look at her even once.

  A sickeningly strong sense of déjà vu struck him then, and his resolve strengthened.

  Never again, he thought grimly.

  When the orientation was over, he had reinforcements in place, a woman waiting for him right outside the classroom.

  Amor was a model and Italian like him. More importantly, she knew how to play the game as well as he did and expected only from Angelo what he was comfortable giving.

  “Ciao,” he murmured in greeting, taking her hand and raising it up to his lips.

  But instead of pleasure, he felt…pain.

  Her pain.

  He didn’t understand how and why, but he knew that she had seen it all, and she was in pain.

  His jaw clenched.

  He ended the kiss, but he didn’t release Amor’s hand. Instead, he held it tightly, knowing that to others it would seem like he was possessive of the model. Beside them, his friend Steel shot him a curious look, but Angelo ignored this.

  He curled an arm around Amor’s waist, pulling her closer to him as they walked away, wanting to make a statement.

  You are never going to be a part of my life.

  He wanted the message to reach her loud and clear.

  But it didn’t.

  ****

  They started playing a cat-and-mouse game after that, and it left Angelo torn between anger and exasperation. In some strange, explicable twist, like the universe playing a joke on him, he – Angelo Valencia III, whose soul was beyond redemption – had ended up being the target, a full-sized prey being stalked by a tiny, hapless kitty.

  And what made it worse, he considered tautly, was that she didn’t even seem to be intentionally following him. As far as he could tell, it was fate constantly throwing them together, fate forcing their paths to continuously cross.

  He would be heading to the dean’s office, see her from the opposite direction, and he would find himself turning around with embarrassingly clumsy haste. He would rather take a circuitous route than walk past her.

  And now, Steel was asking him what was wrong. They were outside the library, with Angelo keeping his friend company while they waited for a family friend Steel was supposed to meet.

  “Well?” His friend arched a brow at him.

  “Nothing,” Angelo lied in a clipped tone. If he admitted the truth, then he might as well admit that he was already fighting a losing battle and she had gotten under his skin.

  And that, he thought grimly, he would never do.

  Steel was smirking. “You’re lying. Remember the time we were supposed to have lunch at the students’ cafeteria because the one for faculty was crowded?”

  “So I changed my mind—”

 
; Steel rolled his eyes. “You were starving as much as I was—”

  “You’re exaggerating,” he said brusquely. “I wasn’t starving. I just realized it would set a bad example if we didn’t maintain the barrier between students and mentors.”

  “Riiiiight.” Steel’s tone was amused. “You’ve become rather fickle-minded lately, now that I think of it. Like the time we were crossing the street and you changed your mind halfway. You almost caused a four-car pile-up—”

  Because he had seen her with the convenience store guy, he recalled blackly. Angelo looked at Steel. “Just drop it, March.” His lips compressed in frustrated anger.

  Damn it to hell.

  Why couldn’t he stop being so affected?

  And why, dammit, did he always end up wanting someone who already belonged to someone else?

  “She’s here,” Steel murmured.

  He looked up, thinking it was the girl Steel was supposed to meet. But instead he saw…her.

  Chapter Three

  “Thank you so much for coming with me,” Farica de Konigh was saying as she curled her arm around Lane. She was a naturally affectionate kind of girl, and after having spent some time in Farica’s company, Lane had gradually learned to relax and accept the other girl’s presence.

  Although “what you see is what you get” didn’t exactly apply to her newfound friend, what Lane did know about Farica was enough. The first day they had met, Farica had taken one look at her dazed expression and asked in a patently relieved tone, “You have a crush on Angelo Valencia?”

  The words had Lane cringing. “It’s that obvious?” she had whispered.

  “Only because I saw your face,” Farica had told her with a grin. “I’m so happy you like him,” she had continued. “At least I know you’re not going to be my rival.”

  “Ri…val?”

  Her voice dropping low, Farica had said, “Only a few people know about this, and if you tell my secret to someone else, I’m going to have to kill you—” Then Farica beamed. “But I have a feeling about you. I think you and I are going to be really good friends.”