ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TO THE ITALIAN BILLIONAIRE
PROLOGUE
AT FIRST, THE PHOTOGRAPH made no sense. Obviously. After all, how could it? Luca Di Santis was staring at a long-lens picture of a beautiful woman in a cheap, Vegas veil. The image of her held his attention for several moments before his gaze travelled sideways, to where he stood at her side, one arm protectively around her waist.
Long blonde hair that fell in waves, a heart-shaped face, curving, generous lips. He stared at the picture, taken in the foreground of the Vegas wedding chapel, and wondered if it was AI generated. But then, a movement in his peripheral vision had him glancing down the corridor of his penthouse suite, as the same young woman emerged from a bedroom. Wearing one of his shirts. She was about a foot shorter than him, so the shirt hung to her mid-thigh, but what he could see of her legs made his gut twist with a rush of instant awareness.
“I—,” her eyes dropped to the floor between them, and her teeth gnawed at her full lower lip, which did precisely nothing for his awareness situation. “I don’t remember how I got here.”
Great. “That makes two of us.”
“I—did we meet at the bar?”
He put his phone down, needing time to digest this. The fact she clearly didn’t remember their night together meant she had no idea they were married. Her ring finger was bare—so he hadn’t got her some crappy Vegas dud as a substitute for the Di Santis diamond. The enormous glittering ring was in a vault back at his family estate.
His lips formed a grim line, as patches of the night burst into his memory. He’d been angry. Angry that his grandfather had threatened to disinherit him unless he came home. Angry that his grandfather had thrown Luca’s apparent lack of stability and morality in his face, demanding yet again that Luca settle down and get married, in order to take what Luca viewed as his birthright.
He’d gone out with the intention of drinking himself into a stupor and putting all of it out of his mind. He hadn’t been thinking about women. He knew he could have brought someone back to his hotel, had a night of mindless, hot sex, but all he’d wanted was to blot out his grandfather’s ultimatum instead:come home, find a nice girl and settle down, Luca. Or else.Apparently, he’d drunkenly decided to grant his grandfather that wish.Fuck.
“Yes,” he said, dragging his palm over his stubbled jaw. When the woman’s gaze dropped lower, he realised he was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of boxers. And the way she was looking at him made his pulse thunder, hangover be damned.
“I don’t remember,” she repeated, looking down at his shirt, her face pale. “Did we…”
Her voice faded off into nothing, her cheeks pink, and for some reason he enjoyed her discomfort.
“Yes?”
“Um, you know.”
“Fuck?”
Her face went from pink to red in the space of a second. She fixed her gaze somewhere over his shoulder and nodded once, face a mask of emotions he couldn’t comprehend.
“I seriously doubt it,” he said. “Given the state of my hangover, I imagine sex last night would have been…difficult.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but her eyes went huge and a flush began to creep down her neck. She was behaving as though the very idea of sex was anathema to her. Something slicked down the back of his spine, a panic that lifted goosebumps through his body. “How old are you?”
Her eyes zipped back to his, blinking quickly.
She couldn’t be underage. For one thing, if they’d gotten married, there must have been some ID produced, by both of them. Probably how the paparazzi got the tip off. It wasn’t every day that a member of the powerful Di Santis family got accidentally married in Vegas.
“Twenty four.”
He expelled a breath. A ten year age gap between him and his bride. It wasn’t the worst thing, but it was definitely not ideal, either. He thought back to who he’d been at twenty four and could hardly fathom it.
That had beenbefore.
Before The Middle East. Before his command decision that had seen his best friend die. Before everything had changed.
“And your name?”
She fidgeted with her hands. “I don’t get why I’m here.”
He nodded curtly. “Fair enough. My memory is likewise hazy.”
“I remember going out. I was…not in a great mood. I wanted…” she fell silent, and he found his eyes tracing her features with hyper focus. Reading her. Trying to understand what she wasn’t saying.
“You wanted to forget something too.”
