The Impatient Groom Read Online Free PDF

had taken over the situation to make it run at his pace, his discretion.
    He was used to taking charge, to being obeyed. Sophia found that both attractive and challenging. Wryly she recognised that she wanted him to know that she wasn’t to be ordered around, however mild and compliant she might seem to an outsider. She was her mother’s daughter. If anyone pushed her too far, she’d dig her heels in. And it was time she showed that she was the equal of any prince.
    â€˜So she married my father for love and defied her materialistic family. Quite right, too. I admire her strength of will No one should be pushed into an arranged marriage against his or her wishes!’
    He gave a very Italian shrug of his tailored shoulders. ‘A dynastic marriage is not unusual in my experience. Often an aristocrat’s child may grow up with an understanding that he or she will marry someone from a suitable family.’
    She wrinkled her nose in disapproval and wondered about Rozzano’s wife—because he’d surely be married. He wore a signet ring on the third finger of his left hand,
one with diamond shoulders and entwined initials. Would his marriage have been arranged?
    She imagined the awkwardness of his wedding night, facing a bride he didn’t love. And she blushed when her thoughts took her further as she imagined his broad shoulders and muscular torso naked...
    â€˜Barbaric!’ she declared with more force than she’d intended. But she felt annoyed that her body was hot with shocking thoughts of gold-skinned nudity... She swallowed. She must stick to the point. ‘OK. So what’s your connection with her?’ she asked, trying to equate this aristocrat and his unnerving pedigree with her own ordinary family.
    There was a long pause. Sophia thought she would break the habit of a lifetime and scream. Her lips parted in breathless panic.
    â€˜For heaven’s sake tell mel’ she urged, her voice throbbing with low and intense passion.
    Rozzano’s liquid eyes seemed unnaturally intent on hers, as if he could see the havoc in her mind. ‘Your mother, Violetta, was the daughter of my father’s great friend Alberto D’Antiga. She was to be my father’s bride. But she jilted him.’
    She wondered curiously if Rozzano felt insulted on behalf of his father. He gave no hint of it. On the contrary, she thought, her skin prickling with sensation, he was leaning elegantly against Frank’s desk and looking her up and down as if he was giving marks out of ten for every inch she possessed. And the muscles in her body grew tense in response as she battled to stop herself melting into the chair.
    He’d be used to that kind of response, she thought crossly, and made sure that he suspected nothing. With
a scowl, she said flatly, ‘That doesn’t explain why you’re here.’
    The dark eyes became veiled and she wondered if she’d been imagining his appraisal. ‘I look after Alberto D’Antiga’s affairs. We have old family connections and he is ill and alone in the world,’ Rozzano said, a surprising tenderness creeping into his voice. ’Your grandfather is growing weaker every day, Sophia. He will be delighted to know he has a granddaughter.’
    â€˜Hmm. This is the man who drove my mother away from the home she loved!’ Sophia reminded him vigorously.
    â€˜You feel nothing for an old and sick man who is your blood relation?’ Rozzano’s reproachful glance was putting her to shame.
    She heaved a sigh and came off her high horse. ‘Of course I do. What’s past is past. I’m sorry he’s not well. And yes, I’d like to contact him. He’s the only family I have now.’ Efficiently she whipped a pen and small notebook from her handbag. ‘Can you let me have his address?’
    â€˜Certainly. Il Conte D’Antiga; that’s D apostrophe, capital A...’
    â€˜Il Conte...’