This shy
Cinderella will go to the ball…but will she end the night in the billionaire’s
arms? Harlequin Presents author Clare Connelly enchants with this passionate
and uplifting romance.
The most infuriating man she’s ever met.
The only man she’s ever wanted…
When Ares Lykaios insists that Bea Jones
accompany him to a gala, she wants to refuse—if just to put the arrogant Greek
in his place. Yet Ares is as gorgeous as he is commanding, and she can hardly
say no to her PR firm’s biggest client.
Bea is shy, awkward…and breathtaking in a ball
gown. And one kiss proves her desire matches Ares’s own. So after the
opportunity arises to finish what they started in Venice, resisting becomes the
ultimate test of his strict self-control!
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Signed, Sealed…Seduced
Book 1: Ways
to Ruin a Royal Reputation by Dani Collins
Book 2: Cinderella’s Night in Venice by
Clare Connelly
Heartfelt or thrilling, passionate or uplifting—our romances have it all. Visit TryHarlequin.com to sample FREE books from among 12 different series. It’s just a taste of the new books published each month—every story a journey guaranteed to leave you with That Harlequin Feeling.
‘Oh, my God.’ Bea stared at the fast-spreading blob of coffee with a look of sheer mortification on her dainty features. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.’
The man—at least, he looked part-man, yet he was also
part-warrior, all broad shoulders, lean muscle and hard-edged face—stared at
her with surprise first, and then displeasure. ‘Evidently.’
‘Please, let me—’ She cast an eye around
for something—anything—she could use to mop up the man’s shirt, which now
bore the marks of her early evening energy boost. ‘I just made it. It must be
hot. Does it hurt?’
‘I’ll live.’
She grimaced, looking around the office,
but it was past six and almost everyone had left. ‘Let me just grab—’ She
plucked a tissue from a box on a nearby desk, lifting it to his shirt and wiping
furiously, all the colour draining from her face when she realised she was only
making it worse. Little white caterpillars of tissue detritus were sticking to
the coffee stain, damaging the obviously expensive shirt even more.
His fingers curled around her wrist,
arresting her progress, and warmth enveloped her out of nowhere, shocking her
into looking up into his face properly for the first time. At five foot ten she
generally found she was almost at eye level with most men but not this guy. He
stood a good few inches above her, at least six foot two, she guessed.
There was something familiar about him,
though she was sure they’d never met. She’d definitely have remembered him.
His face was angular and strong, like his body, a square jaw covered in dark
facial hair—not a look that was cultivated or painstakingly trendy so much as a
fast-growing five o’clock shadow. His lips were curved and bracketed on either
side by a deep groove, like parentheses in his face, his cheekbones were
prominent and his brows were thick and dark, framing his grey eyes in a way
that turned the already spectacular specimens into works of art.
Her breath caught in her throat and she
pulled at her hand on autopilot, a familiar instinct to deny anything
approaching closeness marking her actions, her lips twisting in a silent
gesture of rejection and simultaneous apology. ‘Naturally the London Connection
will cover the dry-cleaning fees,’ she offered, her cheeks growing hot under
his continued inspection.
He held up a hand in a gesture of
silence.
Bea swallowed, taking a step back. ‘I
didn’t see you.’ Quit talking, Captain
Obvious, she derided. It was a tendency she’d worked hard to curb—speaking
when nervous was a girlhood habit she’d kicked long ago. Or thought she had.
‘Where is Clare?’
‘Clare?’ Bea parroted with a frown,
flicking a glance at her wristwatch to be sure she had the time right. Was her
friend and founder of the London Connection—a woman who was as well-regarded
for her business nous as she was for being notoriously disinterested in romance
and relationships—dating this guy? She hadn’t mentioned anything, but something
had been different with Clare
recently. Perhaps this explained it?
‘Clare Roberts—about this tall, dark
brown hair? Given that you work here, I imagine you’ve heard of her?’
Bea’s eyes narrowed at his tone, which
was innately condescending. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the man
that not only had she heard of Clare, but they’d gone through almost every
major event in their lives, along with Amy Miller, side by side together. The
three amigos, from way back.
‘We had a meeting and I do not
appreciate having my time wasted.’
‘Oh.’ She grimaced; the oversight was
unprofessional and unexpected. ‘She’s not here.’
‘She must be.’ His nostrils flared as he
exhaled a deep breath. ‘Please go and find her.’
‘Find her?’ Bea felt like a parrot, but
her senses were in overdrive.
‘You know, walk through the office until
you discover where exactly she is?’ He spoke slowly, as though Bea was having
difficulty comprehending what he was saying when his English was perfect,
albeit tinged with a spicy, exotic accent that was doing funny things to her
pulse points.
Old feelings of inadequacy were stealing
through her, making her stomach swirl with a very familiar sense of unease. She
tried to banish it, forcing a tight smile to her face. ‘Clare was called away
on urgent business,’ Bea explained, a pinprick of worry at her friend’s
inexplicable and urgent departure pulling at her. ‘Is there anything I can help
you with, Mr...?’ She let her question hover in the air, allowing him time to
offer a name.
His brows knitted together, and every
cell in his body exuded impatience. ‘You must be mistaken. This meeting has
been scheduled for weeks. I flew in this afternoon for this specific
purpose.’
Bea’s eyes opened wide. If that was
true, then they’d bungled something—badly—and that ran contrary to every
instinct she possessed. ‘Oh.’
‘Yes,’ he clipped, crossing his arms
over his chest and glaring—there was really no other way to describe his
expression—at her across the space. The air between them seemed to grow thick
with a tension that made Bea feel as though she was continually cresting over
the high point of a roller coaster. She dug the fingernails of one hand into
her palm, forcing her expression to remain neutral with effort.
‘As I said, something urgent came up,
otherwise I know Clare wouldn’t have left you in the lurch.’ She waved a hand
in the direction of Clare’s office, the lights off, door closed. ‘If you give
me a moment, I can try to get in contact with her, or log into her calendar and
see if—’
He scowled fiercely. ‘This is completely
unacceptable.’
Bea hesitated, unprepared for this man’s
obvious frustration. When he was cross, like this, his accent grew thicker,
more mysterious and honeyed.
‘I do not have time to be messed around,
nor to accept excuses from some secretary or cleaner or what- ever the hell you
are. I’ve worked with Clare a long time, but this is—’
Bea felt as though she were drowning.
She’d only been with the London Connection for a few months but she knew what
this company meant to her friends. Not to mention what it meant to her! This PR
firm was important to all of them and, whoever this man was, she didn’t want to
have a disgruntled client on her hands.
‘Yes, very disappointing,’ Bea inserted,
belatedly remembering that while she was relatively new to the firm she was
also the head of the legal department, having been recruited across from her
senior partner role in a top tier City firm. She wasn’t accustomed to being
spoken to as if she were the dirt on someone’s shoe. Modulating her voice to
project an air of calm authority, she met his eyes straight on, her spine
jolting at the clarity of their steel-grey pigment. They were like pewter; she
wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything like it before. ‘Unfortunately, standing
here firing scorn and derision at me isn’t going to achieve very much, is it?’
His shock was unmistakable. His eyes
widened, flashing with an emotion she couldn’t register, and then his jaw moved
as though he was grinding his teeth together.
‘I am not—’
She expelled a soft breath as she cut
in. ‘Yes, you were, but that’s okay. I understand you’re disappointed. And I am
truly sorry that you’ve flown to London from—’
He said nothing.
She waved a hand through the air.
‘Wherever, only to find Clare not here.’ She turned, moving towards her
friend’s office. ‘You mentioned that you’ve worked with Clare for a long time,
so obviously you’re aware how unusual this is. I hope you’re able to overlook
this rare mistake.’
‘I am not generally in the habit of
forgiving mistakes, rare or not.’
A shiver ran down her spine at the steel
in his words. She didn’t doubt for a second that he meant what he said. There
was an air of implacability about the man that she’d felt from the minute he’d
arrived.
Bea had, at first, thought his accent
was Italian, but as he spoke more, her appraisal changed. She was almost
certain he was from Greece—one of her favourite places in the world. She’d
spent a summer there during her degree, and had fallen in love with the sun,
the water, the history and, most of all, the anonymity. When she travelled
abroad, no one knew Bea as Bea- trice Jones, daughter of Rock Legend Ronnie
Jones and Supermodel Alice Jones.
‘Then I hope you’ll make an exception
just this once,’ she implored as she flicked Clare’s screen to life, typing in
her friend’s password quickly. ‘Please, have a seat.’
About the Author
Clare Connelly grew up in a small country town in Australia. Surrounded by rainforests, and rickety old timber houses, magic was thick in the air, and stories and storytelling were a huge part of her childhood. From early on in life, Clare realized her favorite books were romance stories, and read voraciously. Anything from Jane Austen to Georgette Heyer, to Mills & Boon, and (more recently) the 50 Shades trilogy, Clare is a romance devotee. She first turned her hand to penning a novel at fifteen (if memory serves, it was something about a glamorous fashion model who fell foul of a high-end designer. Sparks flew, clothes flew faster, and love was born.). In 2016, Clare Connelly accepted a book deal with Harlequin and now fulfills a lifelong dream by writing romance that sets your soul on fire for the brand that the world trusts with its heart.
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