Nicolò’s Wedding Deception, Book #3

• Pretend Marriage
• Boss Romance
• Amnesia Romance
• Fake Fiancée Romance

A liar and a thief … or his Inferno mate?

When Kiley O’Dell claims to own half the mines that contain Dantes legendary fire diamonds, the family sends the most ruthless and cynical of the brothers, Nicolò Dante, the family troubleshooter, to negotiate with her. Neither expect the legendary Inferno to strike, sending both up in flames.

Nicolò suspects Kiley’s claim is a con. And he’ll do whatever necessary to get to the truth, even chase a panicked and fleeing Kiley. To his horror, she darts into traffic and is hit by a cab before he can save her. After she wakes, she insists she has amnesia. Now he’s certain she’s conning him, and he has a way to prove it.

Turning the tables on Kiley, Nicolò claims she’s his wife. What he doesn’t expect is for The Inferno to tumble them into a fierce love affair. Which is the real Kiley? The sweet, passionate woman in his bed, someone he’d do anything to keep, or the crafty con artist he first met? And what will happen when she discovers they’re not married at all, that far from being her loving husband, Nicolò is out for vengeance?

Lover or liar? Devious or delectable? Only The Inferno can determine which.

Note to Readers: Nicolò’s Wedding Deception is Book #3 in The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series, a contemporary romance series by USA Today bestselling author and eleven-time RITA© (Romance Writers of America) finalist, Day Leclaire. This story features passionate Italian-American heroes, the scorching connection of The Inferno, and a sizzling romance between soul mates.

The sound of gunshots woke Nicolò and sent him leaping from the bed and racing into the hallway. It was only then he realized the noise came from the downstairs TV. After checking Kiley’s room and finding it empty, he headed for the steps, surprised to discover every light in the house ablaze. He followed the trail of lights to the kitchen, turning them off as he progressed through the house.

Earlier, he’d planned to wake Kiley when their dinner arrived. But he’d found her sleeping so soundly, he didn’t have the heart to disturb her. Leaving a note seemed the best option, and it had worked, since a quick check of the refrigerator told him that she’d polished off the Chinese leftovers. He was less pleased to discover Brutus had cleaned out everything else. Greedy mutt. It would seem this new version of Kiley was an easy touch, and Brutus sensed as much.

Next, he turned off the trail of lights leading through the dining room, into the living room and finally to the den. And that’s where he found her. She and Brutus were curled up together on his couch, both sound asleep and utterly oblivious to the raging gunfight from a 40s gangster movie playing on the television.

She’d donned one of the nightgowns and robes he’d bought during her hospital stay, the robin’s egg-blue setting off the vividness of her hair and the creamy paleness of her skin. She’d forked her fingers deep into Brutus’s coat, her hand fine-boned and delicate against the huge, muscular dog. Brutus lay curled protectively around her, his breath escaping in deep, rumbling snores.

The desire Nicolò had felt earlier came storming back, just as messy and uncontrollable and incomprehensible as before. He hesitated, no more than an inch away from ripping off her nightgown and covering her body with his own. She wouldn’t resist. Hell, based on her reaction a few scant hours ago, she’d open to him as sweetly now as she’d done then. He took a single step in her direction before he caught the violent purple bruising along the back of her shoulder.

He sucked in a shuddering breath and crossed to turn off the television, which instantly woke Kiley. Or maybe it was his lifting her in his arms that disturbed her slumber. He carried her from the room, much to the annoyance of a disgruntled Brutus.

“Where are we going?” she asked, wrapping her arms around Nicolò’s neck and yawning broadly.

Her scent drifted to him, light and feminine and unmistakably her own. “Back to bed,” he answered her question.

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d really rather not.”

That gave him pause. “You prefer sleeping with my dog?”

She hesitated, a heart-wrenching vulnerability sweeping across her face and shadowing her eyes. Nicolò found it difficult to believe she could fake the expression, especially straight out of a sound sleep. But perhaps he wasn’t the best judge. At least, not right here and now.

“I’d rather not sleep alone,” she confessed. “It’s not that I’m afraid. Not exactly. It’s just I don’t like being by myself. I’m not used to it.”

“I can solve that problem for you.”

It was inevitable. It had been from the minute he’d first seen her. First touched her. First claimed her as his own. One way or another she was destined to end up in his bed. Better sooner than later.

“Are you taking me to our bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Will you sleep with me?”

“Without question.” Even if it meant an eternity of hellfire and damnation.

She snuggled deeper into his hold. “That’s okay then.”

Nicolò shouldered through the door to his bedroom suite and crossed to the bed. He deposited her there, struck by how small and fragile she appeared curled up on his king-sized mattress. Maybe that’s how she succeeded with her cons, by looking so utterly innocent. She blinked sleepily up at him and smiled.

“Aren’t you coming back to bed?” she asked.

“I am. Although, now that I have you here . . .” He tilted his head to one side and studied her. “What will I do with you?”