The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

“So it would seem. Which is why I’m willing to see you as second-in-command to a man capable of running my company.”

“Second-in-command?” Aimee’s voice rose. “Do you actually think I’d agree to such an arrangement?”

“Stafford-Coleridge-Black needs strong, proven leadership. It also needs, as you have pointed out many times, new blood. His Highness can provide both those things.” Black fixed her with an autocratic eye. “He can also provide our bank with a new generation of leaders.”

A flush rose in her cheeks. “You speak as if—as if I’m a broodmare!”

“I speak sense, child,” Black said, somewhat more gently. “You know I do. This is the perfect solution to everything.”

A muscle knotted in Nicolo’s jaw as silence fell over the room again. The offhand comment about providing the bank with a new generation was, perhaps, the most infuriating of all the infuriating things the old man had said.

If he took Aimee Black to bed, breeding a future generation of bankers would not be the reason.

What about the night you spent with her, Nicolo? A man who doesn’t use a condom is a man flirting with fatherhood.

A knot formed in his belly. He’d never done such a foolhardy thing before, forgotten protection in the rush to take a woman, but then, he’d never done anything as crazy as making love to a stranger, either.

He looked at Aimee.

Nothing to worry about, he thought coldly. A woman who slept with a nameless man would be using protection of her own. She looked innocent now, in that demure outfit, tears glittering in her eyes, but it was all an act.

An act, he thought, and felt anger overtake surprise. What a pair they were, the old man and his granddaughter.

Did they really take him for such an easy mark?

Perhaps it was time to remind them of who he was.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice dangerously soft, “but perhaps I might say a word…Or would that spoil this rather amusing little scene?”

“Your Highness.” James Black cleared his throat. “Maybe I should have mentioned this to you during an earlier meeting, but—”

“Indeed, signore. Maybe you should have.”

“I considered it, but—”

“But, you were afraid I’d laugh in your face.”

“I admit, I thought it possible you might see my idea as…unpalatable.”

The woman gave a soft moan, as if she’d only just remembered his presence. Nicely timed, Nicolo thought, and decided the game had gone on long enough.

“There is more than that possibility,” he said coldly, as he pushed back his chair. “There is that certainty.”

“Your Highness—”

“Yes,” Nicolo said through clenched teeth, “that is who I am. I am Prince Nicolo Antonius Barbieri, of a lineage much older and far more honorable than yours, and you would do well to remember it.”

Had he really said that? Dio, he had. And his speech was going from lightly accented to the way it had been when he’d first come to this country to attend university, thirteen years ago.

It was a measure of his rage, and rage was not a good thing. A man could only succeed when his emotions were under control.

Nicolo stood and wrapped his hands tightly around the top rung of his chair.

“You were right, Signore Black. I would have brought this bank the leadership it needs. And, someday, I will surely produce the sons who will succeed me.” He flashed a look at Aimee, whose cheeks were crimson.

Good, he thought with savage pleasure. It was a joy to see her humiliated.

“But I will do that with a woman of my choosing, who brings pride to my name and not dishonor.”