Her Sicilian Arrangement Read Online Free PDF Page A

moved to the bedroom, slid beneath the
thick soft spreads and then lay there staring at the ceiling. Her
life was at the point where she was should have been dating someone
and looking to start a family. That was how she had planned it out
to be as a child. But she hadn’t dated anyone in years. Her career
had taken over her life and she had no time for engaging in
intimate relationships.
    In
all honesty, she had thought about it once or twice but she just
could see herself with a man that would take her just as she was…no
judgments…and love her for her. Knowledge of her mother’s awful
experience had completely deranged her attitude towards men.
Besides, she wasn’t the type for short-term relationships either.
She had a problem with keeping her feelings out of things and she
would not have been able to live with herself if she had fallen for
a man whose feelings did not match her own. She was a sucker for
romance. Yes, she was…even though she did not want to admit it. But
that did not mean that she would go out searching for it. If
romance was to reach her, it would find its way; and she believed
that. In the meanwhile, she kept her head firm on her body, ready
to tackle any assignment that her career might kick in her
direction.

CHAPTER 3

    Meagan pulled into the parking lot of the Palermo Centrale Centro and then parked as she saw
a huge crowd at the front of the large wide white building. She got
out of the vehicle, straightened her short grey skirt and white
fitted long-sleeved shirt. She glanced down at her high heels and
then retrieved her small brief case before walking towards the
crowd. Upon approaching, she could see numerous security guards,
trying to keep the people out of the walking path as several other
journalists and influential figures entered before her. She showed
her ID to the guard at the door and then stepped inside where a
burst of cold air-conditioning, compared to the temperature
outside, slapped her straight in the face. She released a long sigh
and then walked up to a lady who sat a desk in the hall before the
conference room.
    The
lady took her ID, looked at it and then handed her a tag with a
string attached, marked ‘New York’s Finest’, to it to hang around
her neck. The woman then responded in a deep British accent, “Here
you go, Miss Summers. The name of your firm is on your
seat.”
    “ Thank you.” She then moved into the room where most of the
journalists were already seated. She could feel many eyes watching
her, both men and women for reasons she did not know, as she
searched for her seat. But she decided to ignore the action as she
slid into her chair in the second row and crossed her legs, the
skirt sliding up automatically. And when she noticed a man, who was
sitting next to her, glance at her bare legs, she tried to pull it
down a little further. He then flashed her a smile and she returned
a disgusted a look.
    She
glanced at her watch repeatedly as she noticed the minutes passing
by a lot more quickly than she had realized. It was nine forty-five
and the seats were completely filled now. She looked around as
chatter and low chuckles engulfed the room. It seemed as if
everyone else knew someone except her. She tried to look
preoccupied, looking through her briefcase countless times,
straightening her ponytail a couple and then stared at the table on
the podium before them with three seats behind it. She guessed the
middle seat to be Marco Mussolini’s, the right to be his attorney’s
and the next, his Public Agent.
    The
camera crew was set and ready to go at the back and side of the
room. And in a few moments, she saw an elderly man walk up to the
podium and stood before the microphone. He cleared his throat and
then the room got quiet.
    “Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, awfully
Italian. “We are here today to meet with a local, a very well-known
Sicilian business man, Marco Mussolini. It is expected that each
and every one of us here today will