Copyright
© Melody Anne
Prologue
Divorce.
His throat closed up at the mere thought of that word. He was twenty-eight years old and had conquered the universe — or thought he had.
No!
He had.
Then his picture-perfect world had shattered with a single word.
Divorce.
He’d been respectable and respectful, always treating women with admiration. He hadn’t jumped into marriage at twenty-one, but had dated the same woman for three years, had cherished her, had given her everything. He thought he’d found perfection, but found disillusion instead.
Raffaello Palazzo sat straight up; his eyes narrowed.
No!
He wasn’t this man.
Even if groveling had been in his nature, which it most assuredly wasn’t, he wouldn’t consider doing it now.
“Goodbye.”
He barely glanced up as Sharron walked past, her five-thousand-dollar purse slung over her shoulder, and flaunted the smirk on her face as she slammed the door in all finality. She was gone, and he was grateful.
A couple of her complaints against him were that he worked too much and he wasn’t as attentive as she thought she deserved.
When he’d walked in the week before with a bouquet of roses, attempting to give her the attention she’d demanded, he’d seen that she wasn’t choosy about the source of the attention. She’d been in bed with his business partner.
Rafe’s eyes closed as he pictured that horrible afternoon.
“Are you cutting out on us?”
“It’s my anniversary. I had my wife’s favorite flower, the Hawaiian Flora, delivered express to the floral shop, and I’m picking up her bouquet, then taking her on a surprise trip to Paris. That’s where we celebrated our honeymoon.”
“You’re the most whipped man I know, Rafe,” his assistant, Mario, said with a smile.
“I’m half Italian. My father learned the ways of my mother’s country and how gallant the men are and he taught me how to cherish a woman,” Rafe replied genially, not offended in the least. He hoped to have as strong a marriage as his parents had, and for just as long.
“When does Ryan get back? If you’re cutting out, I’ll need one of the business partners here to get work done.”
“He’s flying in on Friday. I spoke to him a few days ago, and he said he met someone. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“I can’t take any more of this mushy talk. Get out of here before your lovesickness becomes contagious. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Night, Mario. Thanks for all your hard work this week.”
Heading for the door, Rafe waved to his faithful assistant. Life was great
—
his corporation was flourishing without help from his family, and his personal life couldn’t be better.
It didn’t take Rafe long to breeze into the florist’s and then arrive home. When he couldn’t find Sharron downstairs, he smiled in anticipation. Maybe she was stretched out on their bed in a sexy nightie…
When Rafe opened the door, he did find her in bed, and scantily dressed — hell, not dressed at all — but she wasn’t alone. He froze as shock filled him.
“Ohhh, Ryan!” Sharron cried out, and Rafe’s illusions of happily ever after shattered.
Silently, he stood in the dim light as one of his two best friends screwed his wife. It had been Ryan, Shane and him since middle school, always sharing
—
always there for one another. Rafe guessed Ryan figured Rafe’s wife was included in what Rafe was willing to share. Wrong.
Rafe cleared his throat as Sharron screamed again in pleasure. The two of them froze — locked in their torrid embrace — before their heads turned and they looked at him in horror.
Rafe walked from the room and waited downstairs. Almost immediately, Ryan scurried from the house with his head down. Sharron rushed toward Rafe and started to beg for his forgiveness.
Rafe shook off the unpleasant memory as he glanced around him. For a single moment, he’d been shattered. He’d sacrificed so much of himself to please her — give her what she wanted — but none of that was enough. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice; he never did.
Rafe walked up the steps and stood just inside the bedroom door, looking warily around at the room where he’d slept beside that woman night after night. Shaking his head, he left and made his way toward his luxury kitchen. No memories lingered there. It wasn’t as though his wife had known the first thing about cooking.
He had a full staff, which was a good thing. Otherwise his house would have been in shambles and he’d never have gotten fed. Sharron hadn’t been domestic in the least. He hadn’t cared about that — all he’d wanted was to have the same kind of family life with her as the one he’d grown up with. Before this moment, he’d been under the sad delusion that marriages could all have happy endings.
A cold silence hung around him like a shroud, and Rafe was grateful he’d sent his staff away for the day. He didn’t need anyone witnessing his failure.
Failure.
He rolled the word around on his tongue. It didn’t sound right. How could it? Failure was a foreign concept to him. He’d been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. And his mother often teased him, saying he was an old soul in a young body.
She was the
only
one who could get away with a remark like that — he adored her. Well, to be fair, his sisters got away with it, too, and for the same reason.
Rafe had a sudden feeling that all his family members would be relieved to hear of the coming divorce, especially his mother, though she’d never admit it to him. She had tried to get close to his soon-to-be ex-wife, but somehow it had never happened. Had Sharron had any desire at all to know his family? Now that he thought of it, he couldn’t recall any evidence in her favor. True, he wouldn’t have noticed while the two of them were dating, because that was during the six months out of the year that his family resided in Italy. By the time his parents and sisters had returned for their six months in California, he and Sharron were already married.
And then? It hit him right in the gut. From the very beginning, Sharron had been great at making up excuses for why she couldn’t visit with them. But he was in love and stupid and he just hadn’t noticed. If he had, he would never have become so serious about her. He’d been raised to believe that family always came first. Upon their marriage, he’d put her first, just as his father had put his mother first. Soon, he’d cut down on visiting his family —she’d said she couldn’t go, and he wanted to please her by remaining with her. He’d done a lot of things to make the woman happy.
Apparently none of it had been enough.
With a last glance around the kitchen, he lifted his cell phone and dialed. His call was picked up on the other end of the line before the phone could ring twice.
“Sell the house. I want nothing in it,” Rafe said to his assistant in clipped tones.
“Yes, sir.” There was no arguing. Mario had been an employee of his from the day Rafe had started his billion-dollar corporation. The man was loyal, efficient, and trustworthy. Rafe couldn’t imagine how much harder his job would have become without his favorite employee.
Rafe had learned everything from his dad, Martin Palazzo, who had made millions in the stock market, and later in smart real-estate investments. Martin had met Rosabella, Rafe’s mother, while traveling for business in Italy. The two of them had been inseparable ever since, but Rosabella couldn’t stand to stay away from her homeland for more than six months at a time, which was why Rafe had spent half his childhood in Italy and half in the States.
Because of his multicultural upbringing, he was much more prepared to take on the global business structure he’d adopted. He was a fierce businessman and loyal to the end to those he loved. After today, trust would be something he held much closer to his heart and gave only with caution.
Rafe had decided from an early age that he needed to make his own way in life — not just have everything handed to him by his wealthy parents. He wasn’t stupid, though. He’d taken his father’s advice, had even done business with him, but Rafe had dreamed big — and turning that dream into reality had taken him much less time than it would have taken the average person.
Whenever he walked into his twenty-five-story office building in San Francisco, he felt a justified pride. He created jobs for hundreds of thousands of people throughout the world, gave them an income, made sure they went to bed each night with a full stomach and the security of more work to be done in the morning.
He gave so much — and unlike his soon-to-be ex-wife, his employees were grateful and regarded him almost as a king. Sharron had thrown everything he’d given her right back in his face. Except for money.
Rafe was finished with women.
Well
, he thought with an arrogant smirk,
finished with playing the good guy
. It was his turn to take what he wanted. Never again would he be used — never again would he put his heart out there to be carelessly trampled on.
Walking purposefully out his front door, he’d refused to even turn around to watch the final latching of the lock. When he was through with something, it was over. He was done with this house.
Placing his hand on the cool metal handle on the door of his black Bentley, he barely heard the familiar click as the catch released. And as he climbed into the seat, he was oblivious to the fresh, pungent smell of the smooth leather upholstery.
Pulling quickly out of the driveway, Rafe began heading the short distance to the city, where he had a condo a couple of blocks from his office building. Luckily, Sharron had refused to live in San Francisco, causing him to sleep there on the many late nights he’d worked. The apartment was his — his alone.
If she’d so much as touched the doorway of the roomy penthouse, he’d have sold it as well. He wanted no reminders of the woman, nothing of her to remain in his life. He wanted a fresh slate. To have the last eight years back — that’s what he wanted most of all, but since that was impossible, he’d simply have to erase her completely from his life from this day forward.
A few more phone calls and that would be done.
Chapter One
Three years later
“You’re too thin.”
Arianna Harlow trembled as the man prowled around her, continuously circling her chair. She felt like a caged animal just waiting for him to strike. Why was she still sitting there? Why didn’t she say the job wasn’t for her, that it had all been a big mistake and she’d best be on her way?
She knew why. Reality flooded her mind — how she couldn’t afford to walk away — that was,
if
he offered her the job. She was barely staying above water with her bills overflowing. Her mother was about to be removed from the rehabilitation home she was in, shipped to a lesser facility, and Ari didn’t have a dollar left in her bank account.
She was truly afraid. If her mother were sent to the state care facility, she’d probably wither away to nothing and in no time at all. Ari couldn’t let that happen — she wouldn’t.
Arianna had already dropped out of school during her last semester, her life forever changed because of one brief moment in time, because of one horrendous mistake.
If only…
Those two words had haunted her thoughts for the past six months. She had several different endings to those words, but the dominant words were
if only
…
If only
she hadn’t called her mom in panic that night.
If only
she hadn’t gone to the party in the first place.
If only
her mother had left a few minutes later.
“Are you listening to me?” Raffaello Palazzo’s voice rumbled through the air, causing Ari to jump in her seat. She had to think for a moment about what he’d last said to her. Oh yeah, she was too thin.
“Yes, Mr. Palazzo. I just don’t know how to respond to that.”
“Hmm.” His voice came out as a hum, drifting across her nerve endings. Rafe was incredibly intimidating as he paced back and forth, towering over her at a few inches above six feet. Add to that his jet black hair and stunning eyes and she felt like a rumpled factory worker, totally out of her element in this exquisite office.
As he made another pass around the room and neared her, Ari thought back over the last week — how strange it had been. Never before had she jumped through such hoops during a job interview.
She’d applied for more than a hundred jobs in the past month, and only three employers had called her back. One job had been at a bank; the manager had called her a few days later, saying they’d given the position to another applicant. The second was at an insurance company, and they’d told her she didn’t have enough experience.
The third job…well, she didn’t really know how to describe what she’d been through. The ad had said only this:
Seeking full-time applicants for Palazzo Corporation. Must be willing to work seven days a week, long hours. Must have no other commitments
—
no family, second jobs, or school. Salary 100k a year plus expenses. Hand-delivered applications only.