Italian Mavericks: A Deal With The Italian: The Italian's Deal for I Do / A Pawn in the Playboy's Game / A Clash with Cannavaro

She nodded, looking a little overwhelmed.

“There is a design conference in New York next week the House of Mondelli is represented at. You will come with me and we will announce you as the new face of Mondelli at the press conference on the opening day.”

Her face went gray. “That’s very fast.”

“It’s the perfect opportunity. The eyes of the design world will be there.”

She pushed her hair out of her face in what he was coming to recognize as a nervous tick. “And the engagement? When do we announce that?”

“My plan is to let the gossip hounds do it. We go ring shopping tomorrow, we show up in New York together with a massive rock on your hand and let the buzz take care of the rest.”

The gray cast to her skin deepened. “And your family? When will we tell them?”

“We’ll have dinner with Alessandra tomorrow night and tell her. You have met her, sì?”

She nodded. “We worked together on a shoot a few years ago.”

“Bene. I am not intending on telling her the truth about us. She is too chatty, too apt to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. It’s better she takes it for what it is.”

She frowned. “Is our engagement really worth all this subterfuge? Wouldn’t it be easier to simply announce me as the new face of Mondelli? It will generate a huge amount of buzz in its own right.”

His gaze speared hers. “This is more than a publicity stunt, Olivia. This is the joining of two of the world’s great brands. The creation of a dynasty, so to say. It will be a far more powerful story than you simply becoming the face of Mondelli.”

“And when we end our engagement?”

“That will only increase the buzz. Everyone loves a heartsick, broken couple. It’s great photography.”

She looked at him as if he had an answer for everything. He did, in fact.

“I will have your belongings transferred to Villa Mondelli this week. I spend most of my time there commuting back and forth so it makes sense you are there with me. But we’ll delay your actual move date until after we get back from New York. I have meetings in London later this week, and you likely won’t want to spend your first days in the villa alone.”

Her face lost the remainder of its color. “We’re to live together?”

His mouth curved. “We’re madly in love, Olivia. Of course we’re living together.”

“Yes, but—” she waved a hand at him “—we could position it as we’re both so busy, I’m going to be traveling a ton, it just makes sense to keep it separate until we marry. I mean, living apart doesn’t preclude...”

“A wild night in bed?” He shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, bella, but I’m not sleeping on your sofa to make this look real. You will move into Villa Mondelli when we get back.”

She gave him an agitated look. “The apartment...”

He shrugged. “It’s a good investment. If you can manage not to blow your money this time, maybe I’ll allow you to buy it back.”

Her mouth tightened. He plunged on relentlessly, “We have a lot of work to do before New York. Alessandra will be all about the big eyes for each other, but my Sicilian friend Stefan, who will undoubtedly want to toast us in New York, will be tougher. We’ll need to know each other inside out.”

She scrunched her face up. “What do you mean by tough?”

A wry smile twisted his mouth. “I went to Columbia with three other men I became very close with. We are all confirmed bachelors. For me to announce my engagement, to make such a quick, one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, we’re going to have to make our feelings for each other convincing.”

She slid a perfectly manicured nail in her mouth. “What will our story be, then?”

“I think we should say we met in a café and it was love at first sight.”

She arched a brow at him, the humor of it all lost on her apparently. “And this was when?”

“A month ago. We’ve been staying out of the limelight, but now with your return to the modeling world, we’re making our engagement public.”

She chewed on the fingernail. That would have to stop, but he wasn’t about to antagonize her further tonight. “Is there anyone you need to tell about the engagement?”

“My parents, eventually. I can do that in New York.”

“You don’t want to give them a heads-up?”

“We’re not close,” she said flatly. “It can wait.”

“Siblings? Close friends? Anyone we should invite out the night we see Stefan?”

A shadow made its way across her face, intensifying the dark bags under her eyes. “No siblings,” she said quietly. “And there are just the friends I’ve made here in Milan.”

He nodded. “Any other details I should know?”

“No.” She took a sip of her wine and lifted her gaze to his. “What else should I know about my fiancé other than the fact he is cynical and arrogant?”

“I work. A lot. Christian Markos and Zayed Al Afzal are my other two close friends I went to Columbia with. Christian is a financial genius based in Athens. Zayed has recently gone home to take the throne in his home country of Gazbiyaa.”

“He’s a king?”

“A sheikh. Gazbiyaa is in the heart of the Arabian desert.”

“Okaaay.” She rubbed a palm against her temple. “And Stefan? What does he do?”

“He’s in high-end real estate. As in the deals that make the Wall Street Journal... He doesn’t touch anything under ten million.”

She shook her head. “Quite the group of underachievers.”

He lifted a shoulder. “We are all driven. But very different. More like brothers than friends. We even argue that way.”

She smiled, and, Dio, when she did, it made the night sky light up. He’d have to make sure she didn’t do that often. “You should know we run a charity together. It’s a big thing for us. The Knights of Columbia was created to help disadvantaged youth overcome their backgrounds and succeed in business. It’s based in New York, but we all do work in our home countries and funnel the kids through to various business programs in Manhattan.” He took a sip of his wine. “We also personally mentor some of the kids.”

Her eyes brightened. “It sounds amazing. Whose idea was it?”

“It arose out of work Christian was doing. He grew up on the streets of Athens, the child of a single mother. He never knew his father, had to fight his way out of poverty to take care of himself and his mother. It has defined him as a man, and he wanted to give back. We all loved what he was doing and wanted to be a part of it. Thus, the Knights of Columbia was born.”

“I did charity work when I worked for Le Ciel,” she murmured. “I miss it.”

“We have a charity for young female designers who have suffered at the hands of men and have been forced to resort to shelters. It would be a great thing for you to get involved with if you have time.”

“I would love to.” She pressed her fingers against her mouth, her gaze uncertain. “You are so close to these men. How ever are we going to convince them this is real?”