Signed Over To Santino

Javier stopped Carla by pressing his lips against hers, hot and hard, and then pulled away before temptation got out of hand. ‘Take the night, think about it, and give me your answer in the morning. I know you’ll choose wisely.’

‘You’re so certain you know what I’ll decide?’

He shrugged. ‘Besides the pleasure you’ll receive in my bed, there’s the added benefit that once your father knows you’re mine—truly mine—he’ll think twice about threatening you again.’

‘So those are my choices? Choose you or choose him?’

‘The writing’s been on the wall for a while, Principessa. This way you know you’re backing the right horse.’

He flung the door open and grabbed her hand. In the bright light of the foyer he caught a clearer glimpse of her outfit and cursed himself for giving her the night to agree to his demands. The ache in his groin alone threatened to fracture his mind.

Although his every instinct screamed at him to go after her, when she’d muttered goodnight and made a beeline for her bedroom Javier stayed put.

Morning would come soon enough.

Carla Nardozzi would be his.

MAYA BLAKE’s hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first romance at thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does! Feel free to pinch her, too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads! Happy reading!

Signed Over to Santino

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Endpage

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

CARLA NARDOZZI TOOK the chauffeur’s proffered hand, stepped out of the luxury SUV and was immediately bombarded with the sights and sounds of New York City. The journey from her Upper East Side hotel to Midtown had been as tense and chilly as the air conditioning blasting from the vents.

To her right, her father, Olivio Nardozzi, stood stiff and seething.

Carla would’ve summoned a genuine smile for the driver had she been able to function in anything other than a complete state of ongoing shock.

The past seven days had unfolded in a series of bombshells she could scarcely wrap her head around. Bombshells she’d struggled to navigate without going under until she’d eventually, exhausted, settled in a place of icy numbness. But the biggest trial of all lay ahead of her. Or more accurately, it lay above her, sixty-six floors up in the office of the man she’d hoped never to set eyes on again.

As if pulled by powerful magnets, her gaze slid up the glass façade of the building housing the esteemed J Santino Inc.

An opportunity beyond your wildest dreams.

A once-in-a-lifetime endorsement deal.

A collaboration even a figure skater with your prominence would be insane to turn down.

For the better part of a year, those words had been impressed upon her by her father and her advisors. Lately, they’d been uttered in the solemn, no-nonsense tones of her agent and friend, Draco Angelis, who’d been at a loss as to why she was resisting the life-changing deal.

She’d listened and nodded in all the right places but had known she would never accept the deal. Never have anything to do with the man heading the globally successful luxury goods company.

She’d kept her secret for three years and Carla had had no intention of facing it, or the man it involved, ever.

Until her reality had drastically altered.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the blustery March spring day rattled her bones.

In a few minutes, after long years of strictly regimented avoidance, she would be face to face with Javier Santino.

The man who’d taken her virginity. The man who’d granted her the most sensual, intensely unforgettable night of her life. The man who’d then absorbed her shocked, poorly delivered words the morning after with granite-faced hatred, then proceeded to banish her from his life with the cold incisiveness of a scalpel-wielding surgeon.

Years later, Carla still couldn’t recall those harrowing hours without the naked blade of fear striking her heart.

It was the reason she’d avoided Javier Santino at all costs. It was the reason this was the last place she would’ve willingly placed herself.

‘Come on, the deal isn’t going to finalise itself with you standing out here staring at the building.’

The numbness that had wrapped itself tightly around her eased for a cracked moment, replaced with myriad volatile emotions as she stared at her father. Disappointment. Sadness. Anger. A deep and painful burgeoning acceptance that Olivio Nardozzi had a vastly differing definition of parental love than most normal fathers had for their children.

Bitterness surged high. ‘We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t gambled away—’

‘Don’t start this again, Carla.’ He stepped closer on the busy sidewalk so they wouldn’t be overheard by the trio of lawyers who’d accompanied them and now stood on the sidewalk, ready to escort her into Javier’s presence. ‘We have aired this out many times already. I don’t particularly want to air it once again, especially in public. You have an image to maintain. A faultless image we have both worked hard for. In less than an hour’s time, our financial worries will be on their way to being a thing of the past. We have to look forward.’

Look forward.

How could she when her immediate future entailed placing herself in the heart of the lion’s den? A lion whose deathly silence had been even more unnerving than the roar she’d expected at any point during these past three years?

Sucking in a shaky breath, she placed one foot in front of the other, walked through the revolving doors and stood in the lift as they were whisked upward.

The office décor of J Santino Inc. was the last thing Carla expected. Sure, the place pulsed with the core efficiency needed to run a billion-dollar enterprise. But while Carla had expected glass and chrome and futuristic art pieces, she exited the lift and stepped into a vibrant foyer with colourful walls, exotic flowers and employees relaxing on lounge chairs and giant futons. Exquisite Latin American art dotted the vast space, and she was unwillingly reminded of Javier’s passionate Spanish side.

Closing her mind to it, she followed a statuesque receptionist down a burgundy-carpeted hallway to a set of wide double doors, which swung open with an electric whine.

‘Mr Santino will be with you in a moment.’

Carla’s heart climbed into her throat as she entered a vast conference room.

Absently, she heard murmurs as her team took their seats, but she couldn’t think past the coming meeting, her insides twisting hard as she drifted past sumptuous chairs and a polished cherry-oak table towards wide windows with impressive views of Manhattan.

Would those gold-brown eyes that had snapped cold fire at her the last time they’d seen her still blaze with hatred? Over the last year, since she’d first been approached with the endorsement offer, she’d wondered why Javier Santino would want her anywhere near his company. Sure, her world-number-one-figure-skater status placed her in a certain would-kill-for echelon, but there were a few dozen other sports figures in a similar position. Despite her management’s insistence that she was being pursued because she was the right person for the job, she’d wondered whether it’d been a carefully set trap.

But not once had Javier attempted personal contact, choosing to communicate through his lawyers and executives. Folding her arms, Carla swallowed and allowed a little hope to grow. Maybe Javier had moved past the events of the morning after their night together. Perhaps the abhorrence she’d glimpsed during their fraught exchange, the deep trepidation that what had happened between them had been life-altering, and the long months following when a peculiar ache had lodged itself in her chest every time his name had crossed her mind, had all been in her overblown imagination.

Javier had moved on to other conquests, and had continued to aggressively pursue his work hard, party harder lifestyle if his presence in the tabloids was any indication.

So maybe her trepidation was for nothing, maybe she was just overthinking this—

‘Do you intend to conduct the meeting standing up, Miss Nardozzi?’

Carla flinched and turned at the flat, detached tone.

Her breath locked in her lungs, every cell in her body clenching in freeze frame as she stared at the man sauntering down the side of the conference table.

In a dark grey pinstriped suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and a white shirt and navy tie that screamed understated elegance, Javier Santino didn’t need the tough lawyers who flanked him to underscore his supremacy and importance. He was still hugely formidable and domineeringly sexy. His overpowering masculinity would continue to draw eyes to his sculptured cheekbones and uncharacteristically full mouth, which held a perpetual reddish tinge as if he’d been thoroughly and expertly kissed, long after he was well past his prime.

He stopped opposite her and, even across the vast polished surface, the sheer dominance of his aura slammed into her. Gold-flecked brown eyes pinned hers, one eyebrow lifted in cool, arrogant query.

Deep inside, past the numbness and the fear, something wild and hot and dangerous sparked to life, and she felt the ground shift beneath her feet.

She shouldn’t have come... Then again, what choice did she have?

‘Very well. I’ll take that as a yes.’ His gaze conducted an impersonal inspection of her face and body, then swung from her, releasing her from the disturbingly deep frisson that had taken hold of her. Striding to the head of the table, he pulled out a chair, unbuttoned his jacket in one deft move, and sat down. ‘Since you also didn’t answer my PA when she asked whether you wanted refreshments, I’ll assume you don’t want any?’ Javier continued, the deep, smooth tenor of his voice igniting the flame higher.

Carla swung her head towards the departing PA, her mind unfreezing itself long enough to wonder how long she’d been caught in the dangerous tide of the past.

‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’ She raised her voice slightly to catch Javier’s PA. The woman turned and nodded with a cool smile before leaving the room.

‘Good. Shall we begin?’

The magnetism that had gripped her outside as she’d stared at Javier’s building returned full force. Her gaze returned to him, her heart beating faster as she stared at him.

There was no trace of the censure she’d expected, no hot-blooded Latin lip curl or even a hint of the fact that this man had seen her naked once, had done things to her body that still had the power to make her blood pound hot and hard through her veins.

He was going for impersonal. Stony. Businesslike.

As she shakily pulled out the chair he indicated to his right and sat down, Carla told herself it was okay to breathe in relief.

If Javier wanted to proceed with no acknowledgement of their past, then so would she. In fact, it was a brilliant thing. No need for further angst.

‘I believe everything’s been settled between our lawyers? You’re finally willing to agree to the quarterly payment terms and the performance-related incentives stipulated in the contract, correct?’

Carla dragged her eyes from Javier to glance at her father. She spied the haughty desperation there, the silent command that their dirty laundry not be aired. She wanted to rail at him, demand to know what had possessed him to gamble away all her money, to jeopardise everything she’d worked for and bring her to the brink of bankruptcy. She didn’t doubt that he’d have another blithe explanation, the callous hauteur he’d often displayed towards her as a child their only means of communication nowadays.

She glanced away again, deliberately numbing herself to the pain and disappointment. Steeling herself, she focused on Javier once more.

‘Yes, I agree to your terms.’

‘Unless, of course, there’s any way you’d reconsider a larger, upfront payment?’ her father suggested, squaring his shoulders as he planted his elbows on the table.

Javier’s gaze didn’t shift from her face. ‘No. If you came here under the pretext of signing the final agreement only to try and renegotiate the terms, then you’ve wasted all of our time. I sincerely hope that’s not the case, Miss Nardozzi.’ The cold edge in his tone matched the look in his eyes.

Another shiver rippled over her. ‘No, the clauses agreed upon are fine.’

Her father exhaled. ‘Carla—’

‘Everything is fine.’ She struggled to keep her voice from wobbling through the lie as tension escalated in the room. ‘Can we get on with it, please?’

Javier’s gaze sharpened. ‘You understand that, due to the delay in getting this signed, the cooling-off period will no longer apply? This contract, once signed, will be final and binding.’

Her fingers started to curl into her palms. Inhaling deeply, she placed them on the cool surface of the table and strove for composure. ‘Yes. I really don’t see why we’re going over this again. My lawyers have explained everything to me. I’m ready to sign your document. All I need, Mr Santino, is a pen.’

If she’d been expecting a reaction, Carla realised she would be sorely disappointed. His gaze flicked with almost cruel lack of interest from her to his lawyers. An imperious nod, and the documents were produced and laid out before them. An elegant ball pen bearing his name arrived before her.

Shakily, she picked it up, signed and countersigned where indicated. The contracts were witnessed and exchanged. And her fate was sealed.

She would become the exclusive face of carefully selected J Santino products, called upon for advertising campaigns and publicity events whenever he chose.

It was done. With any luck, she could now negotiate further time with the bank back in Tuscany and save her family home. Not that it’d ever been a real home. These days it was more a showpiece property for her father to bask in the success he claimed she wouldn’t have achieved without him.

But it was the only remaining roof over her head. The New York condo was gone, as was the chalet in Switzerland. Everything was gone.

Carla set the pen down and stood. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Santino. Now if you’ll excuse us—’

‘You’re not free to go just yet, Miss Nardozzi.’

Her breath stumbled as Javier rose with fluid grace.

She stared up at him, meeting that stony expression once more. ‘What...what more could we possibly have to discuss?’

A tight smile pursed his lips. ‘It’s confidential. Come into my office.’ His gaze flicked over the table’s occupants in a dismissive glance. ‘Alone.’

Without waiting for a response, he headed for a set of double doors opposite from where she’d entered.

Her palms grew hot and she fought the urge to rub them against her thighs. Every instinct screamed at her to get up and walk out. She’d made it this far relatively unscathed. She’d seen Javier again, withstood his imposing presence, heard his voice, inhaled that singularly unique scent without losing her composure. What she’d dreaded most was over.

Yet she couldn’t move.

‘Now, Miss Nardozzi,’ Javier insisted in cutting tones.

The atmosphere shifted again, men in expensive suits fidgeting beneath ricocheting tension.

‘Carla,’ her father’s warning tone rumbled over her.

She ignored him, looking past him to the doors that led to freedom. Could Javier stop her from leaving? From retreating back to that numb place where she was marginally cocooned from pain and betrayal?

Yes. Because she was now bound to him, a contracted employee who couldn’t refuse reasonable requests.

Swallowing the hysterical laugh that rose in her throat, she stood, ignoring the collective muted sighs of relief that floated round the table.

Carla entered Javier’s office and drew to a stunned stop. Unlike the rest of his company’s workspace, this was an unapologetically masculine domain. From the massive walnut desk and throne-like armchair set back against a solid wall, to the studded black sofas grouped around a glass and gold TV and entertainment centre on one side, the space shrieked a dominance that made her flesh tighten with acute premonition.

But no.

So far Javier had been cold and brutally businesslike. Uninterested in her, other than as another financial asset for his company. She had nothing to fear.

Behind her the door swung shut, followed by another distinct click.

Her gaze flew to Javier, to the tiny remote in his hand. A second later, he flung the control away, then advanced towards her with slow, precise strides. Her breath uselessly trapped in her lungs, Carla tilted her head to meet his gaze and the blood rushed from her head in a dizzying surge.

Because those mesmeric eyes were no longer cold. No longer impersonal. A very specific, very dangerous light blazed in their depths. A light that threatened to stop her heart altogether.

‘At long last, here you are,’ he murmured.

The savouring, triumphant statement made every nerve in her body jump.

‘Here I am? What does that mean?’ she retorted, fully aware her voice was bled of any power.

He stepped closer, amplifying his power and might by a thousand degrees. ‘It means I never thought this day would arrive. You won’t believe how many times I nearly threw in the towel. But revenge is a dish best served cold. Isn’t that what they say?’

Ice filled her veins. ‘Revenge?’

He bent his head closer, as if sharing a salacious secret. ‘Luckily, I’m a very patient man,’ he whispered. ‘I knew, sooner or later, I could count on you and your father’s greed to bring you back to the contract table.’

Carla’s mouth dropped open, her heart falling to her toes.

‘Dio mio.’ Her voice snagged on the words.

He leaned back and smiled. A pure evil smile that drew her dumbfounded gaze to his sensual lips. ‘Sí, this is the expression I’ve been waiting three years for.’

He’d been scheming. Laying the perfect bait for her downfall. And like a lamb to the slaughter, she’d walked right into his trap.

Just as she’d been a weak, trusting lamb throughout her father’s machinations, childhood fears of abandonment unconsciously stalking her into adulthood so stealthily that she hadn’t realised she was being taken advantage of until it was too late. She’d sacrificed herself for her father.

And now she was to be a sacrifice for Javier Santino.

A sheer wall of dread rose before her, every single brain cell frozen as she was caught in suspended animation.

From far away, she heard Javier speak but she couldn’t rouse herself from the horror of her circumstances.

Firm hands caught her elbows. Eyes fringed by thick lashes narrowed. ‘What is wrong with you, Carla? Or should I call you The Ice Princess? Isn’t that what the media calls you? You’re certainly dressed for it.’

Numbly, she glanced down at her white palazzo pantsuit. The jacket’s severely cut style opened at the elbows when she lifted her arms, and the sleeves dropped almost to the floor. Teamed with a white silk camisole and white stilettos, the ensemble broadcasted a cutting-edge style suitable for a woman at the top of her game. Or so the stylist had insisted when she’d arrived with the clothes this morning. Staring at the get-up, she suddenly saw differently.

White, for innocent sacrificial lambs.

White, for fools.

The hysterical laughter she’d tried to stem bubbled up from her chest and burst free. It sounded strange in the impressive, masculine room. But the crack in her self-control felt good.

So good she couldn’t stop laughing.

Javier blinked, then jerked her once. ‘Carla!’

Laughter cut off like a light switch. ‘I thought I was only Miss Nardozzi to you?’

Puzzlement tracked over his face. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he demanded again.

‘What do you care?’ she flung at him.

‘I don’t, except I’d prefer not to have a conversation with a woman who’s acting like a walking, talking zombie.’

‘Right in this moment, I wish I were one.’

A dark frown clamped his brow. ‘Excuse me?’

Another bubble of laughter bursting free, she shook her head. ‘You should see your face, Javier. Is this not going how you expected? Did you expect me to be a quivering idiot in the light of your revelation? Did you—what are you doing?’ she screeched as strong arms lifted her off her feet.

In half a dozen strides he pinned her against a wall. They stared at each other for a charged, timeless second. Then someone moved. Her gasp was swallowed by the mouth that slanted over hers, the domineering possession so electrifyingly potent, every trace of numbness was instantly zapped from her body.

In its place raw, intense emotion flooded. Every sensation she’d retreated from surged in a tidal wave of feeling, concentrating in that powerful connection of their fused lips. From one heartbeat to the next, they tore at each other. Tongues duelled, groans fought for supremacy, hands searched and groped. And Javier came out on top each time, his indomitable will pounding into her, into the kiss until she was a seething ball of sensation, ready to be done with as he pleased.

Gradually the other emotions receded, leaving her with a deep, decadent arousal she’d only believed existed in her dreams. The realisation that it did not had her surging up on tiptoes, eager to experience more of it.

Javier deepened the kiss, his hands moulding her, his teeth nipping at her full lower lip. Powerful thighs parted hers and he planted himself firmly between them, the evidence of his arousal unmistakeable.

Dio, but he felt glorious. And he made her feel alive!

About to spike her hand through his hair, demand more, more, more, she was brought back to earth when her arms were wrenched from around his neck and pinned ruthlessly to her sides.

‘Do I have your attention now?’ he rasped.

White lamb. Sacrificial fool.

She glimpsed the menacing look in his eyes and her insides turned to useless jelly. ‘Wh-what do you plan to do to me?’

Teeth bared in a cruel smile, he dropped his head and rubbed the tip of his nose against hers in a gesture so divorced from affection, it staked a cold knife of fear in her heart.

‘Where would be the fun in laying it all out for you, Principessa? All you need to know is that by the time I’m done with you, you’ll know that you should never have used me the way you did three years ago. Before I’m done with you, Carla Nardozzi, you’ll get on your knees and beg my forgiveness.’