Reluctant Mistress: Bargained Bride

By Maggie D

She stumbled upon him at a wedding. He insulted her. And now five years after that unexpected encounter, Enzo Sabatini and Pia Rossi’s paths are about to collide.

Enzo’s regimented existence has been thrown into chaos. He’s about to become parent to an orphaned child. He needs help. Temporary help arrives in the form of the child’s cousin Pia Rossi: the woman he insulted five years earlier.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maggie D
• Release date: Jan 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005494858

Maggie D

M.A in English Literature. Former adjunct lecturer in English Literature. Currently teaches ESL. Enjoys reading; proud member of an international reading club. Started writing as a hobby.

Book preview

Reluctant Mistress: Bargained Bride

Published by Maggie D

Copyright 2021 Maggie D

Long Island NY, Six Years Earlier

Enzo Sabatini downed the last of his brandy, ordered another and then slowly allowed his emerald green eyes to drift across the elegant ballroom. He detested weddings. But this was his cousin’s Raphael’s big day. And his loyalty to Raphael superseded his aversion to the pointless conversations, forced mingling, and the ridiculously long, drawn out, speeches that weddings were so famous for. But he’d endured the ceremony: no small feat. And now that that was over, no amount of loyalty could keep him here. He picked up his drink and strode out of the ballroom. The air was warm. Dust had fallen. The salty ocean air sifted through his nostrils. This must be what if feels like to be released from the jaws of hell, he mused. He inhaled deeply, savoring the freedom: and solitude. And then his body, on its own volition, stilled. A woman!

In the time it took for him to empty his glass and turn around, mild curiosity had tempered his rage. Sure enough, there was a woman, standing a few feet from him. The grey light of dusk cast a shadow over her features. But his ever-observant eyes took in her dark hair and waif-like figure. Her dress, a simple sheath, possibly black, hugged her body to perfection. If she was a wedding guest, she must have arrived late. He hadn’t noticed her in the church. Standing next to the groom, and bored out of his mind, he’d had ample time to scan the faces in the crowded church. Among the plastic, barbies, groomed to within an inch of their lives, she would have stood out. She looked natural. Authentic! His eyes lingered on her sylph-like figure. Her breasts were much too small to be unnatural. Warmth seeped through his well-honed muscles, bringing with it that all too familiar kick of lust. That woman, whoever she was, was temptation personified, he decided. And tonight, was one night where he refused to yield to temptation.

If you followed me here with the intention of offering me sex, I am not interested, he heard himself uttered in the brutally ice-cold tone he’d perfected over the years, when dealing with aggressive women. Widespread rumors would have you believe I prefer quantity over quality, he continued. I don’t! And I don’t like being pursued either. So get lost.

Pia stared at the man standing before her. She knew she should keep moving. This was Renata’s wedding, and she wasn’t invited. To be discovered crashing her cousin’s wedding would be her eternal shame. But shock seemed to have rendered her immobile. Suddenly the shame of crashing a wedding was nothing compared to being humiliated by a total stranger: A stranger whose impressive stature was instantly imprinted on her brain, even though he was looking at her as if she wasn’t fit to breathe the same air as him, much less share the same space.

Enzo’s lips twisted in a contemptuous sneer, even as he ruthlessly suppressed the rising heat deep in his loin, and the desire to lose himself in the warm body she was obviously ready to offer him. Spare yourself the indignity of being reported for solicitation! The ice-cold voice pierced through Pia’s consciousness, forcing her to react. As if on auto-pilot, she turned and stumbled back the way she’d come, disappearing into the approaching darkness.

Enzo stared after the disappearing figure, and for the first time in years a feeling akin to remorse gripped him. But whoever she was he doubted she needed his sympathy. He set the empty glass down on a nearby table, took one last look at the ocean and headed towards his car where his chauffeur was waiting. With a new wife to fuss over, Raphael would hardly notice his absence.

Chapter One

I have inherited what? Enzo’s emerald green gaze zoomed in on his parents, his beautifully sculpted features betraying something close to utter bewilderment. Either his parents had taken leave of their senses, or he’d inherited a child. He was apt to believe the former. He knew his parents’ greatest wish was to see him married with children. They’d been harassing him, and he’d been ignoring them for the last ten years. If this preposterous claim was an act of desperation, or a sick joke, he wasn’t amused: Especially since he’d been forced to cut short a very important meeting.

His shrewd eyes instinctively narrowed. His expression turned thoughtful. He was a confirmed bachelor; an elusive billionaire playboy; a workaholic for who going to sleep on one continent and waking up on another wasn’t uncommon. His idea of a stable relationship was a few weeks in the arms of whichever woman happens to strike his fancy. Not exactly parent material! So his skepticism wasn’t entirely misplaced.

And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that this was an act of parental desperation. As an only child, he was his parents’ only hope for the grandchildren they coveted. But he was two years shy of his fortieth birthday, with a long trail of ex-mistresses. Gentle persuasion was no longer an option.

In one fluid movement he eased his six foot three, well- honed physique out of the plush leather chair. To describe him as handsome would be an injustice. He was as close to male perfection as one could possibly get. His hair, neither short, nor long was straight and jet black. His features reminiscent of a Roman sculpture, an arrogant one at that: typical Roman nose, strong jaw, firm, sensual lips and eyes, which tended to vacillate between bright emerald and a dark olive green, capped by thick brows and long lashes that lent a brooding quality to his face. His complexion was not fully olive, but not pale either. Broad shoulders, lean hips and long legs: he was the perfect male specimen. He was charming, and ruthless: his confidence bordered on arrogance. But at the moment exasperation was what he felt.

He cast an impatient glance at the watch adorning his wrist; then proceeded to walk towards the door. He had business to attend to. And once that was done he was going to treat his parents to dinner, at their favorite restaurant. If he couldn’t convince them that their quest to see him happily ensconced in the folds of matrimony was hopeless, maybe great pasta and excellent wine will. He made a mental note to consult with their personal physician. Their inability to accept his decision was becoming a cause for concern.

Your cousin Raphael named you as Ciara’s legal guardian. Now that he is dead… Enzo rocked back on his heels as if a blow had been delivered to his face, leaving him stunned and disoriented. His spacious, airy, air-conditioned office suddenly felt like a sauna. Beneath his immaculate dark grey designer suit, he could feel sweat beginning to seep out of his pores. With robot-like precision, he removed his jacket and began to loosen his silk tie. Shock ricochet through him. And because he wasn’t a man easily shocked he felt as if he’d been delivered a blow from which he would never recover.

He didn’t delude himself into thinking that the few words he’d managed to grasp before his world became blurred, was a mistake, or worse a sick joke. Instead he struggled to understand why Raphael would leave his beloved daughter in the care of a cynical, womanizer like himself: A man who thought love was nothing, but a fancy word for emotional dependency. Surely the child must have other relatives. The harsh words were uttered as he began to visualize his regimented existence, and the catastrophe that would be dealt to his professional, not to mention his private life.

His father, an older and far more traditional version of himself, stared at him from across the room, his features grave, and judgmental. Renata’s parents are both dead, he told him curtly. Her only living relative is a cousin. We are Ciara’s closest relatives.

He should be sympathetic. And to some degree he was. But the sudden onset of parental responsibility had delivered an almighty shock to his system, leaving little room for sympathy. A relative was the ray of hope he needed. I am willing to relinquish custody to this cousin, he informed his parents with detached indifference. I’m sure whoever that person is, he or she would be better equipped to raise a child than I am.

Signorina Pia Rossi is twenty-six years old. She is unmarried, with a full-time job. She is not equipped to parent a five-year-old child, his father informed him brusquely.

And I am! Enzo’s expression went from grim, to frustration, to incredulity. His parents were even more delusional than he’d previously thought. He may be a few years older than Signorina Rossi, well more than a few years, twelve to be exact, but he was unmarried, with a demanding career, and just as ill-equipped to parent a five- year old.

His father threw him a look of consternation. Raphael obviously had faith in your ability to be a good parent. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left Ciara in your care.

Good parent! Enzo barked in astonishment.

If Raphael was able to give up his freewheeling lifestyle to become a devoted husband and father, so could you, his father intercepted. You’re two years shy of your fortieth birthday. It’s about time you find yourself a wife, and settle down.

Wife! Of course! They probably already had somebody lined up: a nice, comely, Italian virgin, willing to bear as many children as her hips would allow her. They’d long given up any hope of him marrying a woman of substance—his father’s words. They’d arrived at the point where just about any woman will do. The only prerequisite would be her ability to bear children. His father had blamed both he and Raphael’s playboy image for tarnishing the Sabatini name. I don’t know any woman from a good family who would want to tie herself to a playboy, his father had scolded him.

Enzo knew plenty. Women willing to look past the playboy image: willing to tie themselves to the wealth and power that came with the Sabatini name. His parents who’ve been married for over forty years and lived in their little bubble of contentment had no clue what went on in the real world. It would be cruel of him to burst their bubble.

What they needed to understand was he didn’t want a nice, comely, Italian virgin—his skepticism wouldn’t even allow him to think that such a woman exist— vowing eternal love, or eager to bear him children. Women were fickle. Their wants and desires turned on a dime. He should know! A comely Italian—minus the virginity— he’d met at university had pledged eternal love to him, only to turn around and elope with a millionaire forty years her senior. The blow to his pride was short-lived. Her explanation that: ‘a childless millionaire with one foot in the grave, and the potential to turn her into a very wealthy widow was preferable to a young millionaire whose wealth she may never inherit,’ had seen to that. She’d used him for sex, but was too impatient to wait around for his money. He’d made a lucky escape. But the memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. And the experience left him with an acquired distrust of women. As of yet, not a single one of the subsequent women he’d met and taken to his bed, had swayed his opinion, or given him any reason to think differently. Subject himself to a woman’s whims! Enzo couldn’t think of a worse fate! A wife is out of the question! he ground out harshly.

The faces staring back at him revealed expressions of outrage and anguish. How do you intend to raise her without a wife? his father asked him. Enzo brushed aside the enquiry. Because he couldn’t fathom raising anyone. He was a workaholic. He kept long hours. He couldn’t spare the time and effort needed to parent a child. And he had no desire to parent a child, not even his beloved cousin Raphael’s. I have a business that demands my full attention, he said, trying to rein in his temper, and suppress the guilt and pain that were threatening to shred him to pieces. I do not have the time it would take to parent a five-year- old child. His gaze wandered from his father to his mother and back again. He slid his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. It’s been three weeks, he paused, his tone softening. Why am I only now being informed of this? And where is— his voice trailed off. The cocoon of denial in which he’d sheath himself—in a futile attempt to spare himself the pain of Raphael’s untimely death—was shedding. Cold, clear, reality was staring him dead in the face. And he could no longer hide from it. Raphael, his cousin and best friend, was dead! A five-year-old child—a child whose interest he’d promised to protect, when he’d stood in church, and accepted the role of god parent, had landed in his lap. He’d promised to take a personal responsibility for her upbringing and assume legal responsibility should anything happen to her parents. And something had happened—her parents were dead. Swept up in a maelstrom of emotions, Enzo reasoned that he might be losing his grip on reality.

Ciara has been staying with friends of Raphael and Renata, while their lawyer sort through their affairs. His father solemn tones brought an end to his tortured thoughts. And as if reading his thoughts, he continued. Our home is open. You have our support. But Raphael left her in your care, not ours.

At that reminder, Enzo felt his compassion beginning to ebb. Frustration buoyed by fear held him in a merciless grip. This cousin, he inquired after a tense moment of silence. Will be generously compensated, and I will maintain financial responsibility for Ciara, if she’d be willing —

Raphael named you as her legal guardian, his father interrupted him.

And that was a mistake, Enzo countered, fear fueling his anger and frustration. Raphael hadn’t asked his permission when he decided to make him legal guardian of his daughter. No one did. They simply took it for granted that he’d be willing to upend his life, and follow convention. They were wrong. He wasn’t a thirty-eight year old bachelor by chance.

And he wasn’t so heartless as to abandon the child Raphael had entrusted to his care either, Enzo reluctantly conceded. His sense of duty, his love for Raphael, not to mention his conscience wouldn’t allow him to. But try as he might he couldn’t visualize how a small child could possibly fit into his regimented existence, or even coexist in his world. Changes will have to be made. Changes that will cause