A Wedding Between Enemies

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

S ERENA VALLI KNEW two things with full certainty.

First, and most importantly, she hated Luciano Ascione with the fire of at least four generations of fury behind her.

Second, and quite unfortunately, she needed him.

Luckily, he needed her as well. If he cared at all. Which was certainly up for debate.

They were both failing, drowning, and about to implode if they did not reach out and save each other.

She supposed it was the kind of poetic justice born of their fathers—sworn enemies from birth—dying in the same automobile crash. As if they’d both been racing toward something but, so focused on each other, they hadn’t been able to reach that end goal.

Serena was determined to learn this lesson her father hadn’t. If it meant proposing a deal with her sworn enemy, she would swallow that sword.

Because neither Serena Valli nor Valli Shipping would give in without a fight, no matter how brutal. How demoralizing. How embarrassing . Her feelings didn’t matter—only the fate of her legacy did.

If there was any way to honor her father’s memory—and more importantly, her grandfather’s—it was this.

She’d grieved, she supposed. In her way. In the Valli way. There was, after all, no great affection between father and daughter. There had been respect—hers given out of duty, while she’d had to earn his with perfection, and so she had. Serena believed in duty.

And she would continue to do her duty for the Valli name and business, for her legacy. And with that as her mantra, she stepped into the lion’s den.

Luciano had never bothered himself with his father’s company, Ascione International—the biggest issue they both faced right there in the company’s name. Valli had Italian shipping under lock. Ascione fared better in global waters.

Both were being encroached on by an upstart American company, slithering through the cracks left in Valli since her father’s death last year. She knew Ascione also suffered cracks, though she doubted Luciano knew.

It was well known he was a thoughtless, careless, reprobate. The one and only thing he’d ever accomplished on his own was this club she ventured into now.

He’d inherited everything else and was likely to run that inheritance into the ground. She could let him, but she was afraid if she did, their new rival would win. But if she could manage this, Ascione and Valli working together, they would take down their mutual enemy, instead of each other.

Serena would swoop in. She would save everything. And if there was the opportunity, she would do what her father had never been capable of.

Take Ascione down for good.

But for now, she needed them. Or Luciano anyway.

Serena did not spend her time in clubs . The dim lights, the pulsing music, the crowds of bodies appealed to her not at all. The only thing she could say in a positive nature about Luciano’s Cattiva Idea was that it did not smell of smoke and alcohol, and the bottom of her shoes did not stick to the floor as she’d expected from reading about places people went to at night to drink and frolic.

Instead, Cattiva Idea was…elegant—too loud, certainly, but with a sophistication underneath all the nonsense of gyrating heirs and heiresses trying to outshine each other.

She supposed .

Now she made her way through the tables full of the young and sparkling, wincing only a little at the noise level. She was only twenty-six, young yet, but she felt ancient to all their blatant posturing. Her grandfather had once told her she’d been born an old soul, and she could not deny that she felt like one in the audience of her peers.

She changed her focus from the revelers to the corner of the main floor, where on a raised kind of platform, Luciano sat, his arm draped over the bare shoulders of a beautiful woman Serena thought she recognized from one of her favorite television shows. There was a handful of other people at the table and his section seemed to be roped off. A VIP section , she supposed and rolled her eyes.

There was no doubt Luciano was a wealthy man. He was dressed in the best of the best, even if he left a few buttons of his shirt undone, as if the glimpse of olive skin was some kind of temptation, some kind of power move.

Serena did not allow herself delusion. He was a handsome man. All jet-black hair and dark eyes. High cheekbones and a Grecian nose. Full mouth, chiseled jaw. Then there was the height, the broad shoulders. There could be no argument. He was stunningly, classically attractive.

He knew it. He used it. She could disdain him for it, but she could not blame him for it.

She too used whatever tools were at her disposal. It was why she’d donned four-inch heels this evening—so she could be closer in height to him. It was why she hadn’t worn a business suit, though as she didn’t lend herself to the frivolous, her dress was black. And probably a little more suited for a work cocktail hour than a youthful club. But she’d uncharacteristically left her hair down, allowed it to curl in all the ways it would instead of taming it into a braid or twist as she preferred. She’d worn makeup more in keeping with a night out than a corporate meeting, and added a few pieces of jewelry, on loan from her mother, a far more ostentatious creature than Serena herself.

Serena took after her father, as her mother so often liked to tell her. A deadly dull vulture in the presence of far more interesting peacocks. It was why after the divorce, Serena had spent more time in her father’s home than her mother’s.

But deadly dull vultures were successful , her father had always liked to say. All peacocks did was strut about.

Luciano was most assuredly a peacock. All feathers and color and no substance. How was she going to get through to him when all of her motivations would fall on deaf ears?

You’ll figure it out , she told herself sternly.

As she got closer, his dark gaze drifted over to her and sharpened in recognition. She didn’t stop walking, but she braced herself for the fight ahead. She held his gaze and walked straight to him. She didn’t even look at one of the men she supposed acted as some kind of security for him when the suited hulk held out an arm to stop her.

She held Luciano’s gaze. “He’ll see me,” she said.

And Luciano must have waved his little bodyguard off, because the arm dropped, then the rope, and Serena was allowed to move forward.

Once she got close enough to hear him over the pumping music, he smiled. Like a shark. “Ah, if it isn’t Satan herself.”

Serena smiled in return. Like a wolf. Because a wolf could swim, but a shark couldn’t do a damn thing on land. “Do you really suppose the devil would be a woman, when we all know men are the crux of all our problems? Two men in particular.”

This got a laugh out of Luciano’s companion.

“ Two men,” he scoffed. His gaze dropped to his glass. “The investigators thought differently.”

“ Your investigators thought differently. The ones not on your payroll blamed both men for foolish, unreasonable speeds. A fact that, knowing our fathers, is undeniable.”

“Did you know your father?” he asked, tilting his head, as if to consider such a thing. “It is rather difficult to know a snake.”

“Perhaps just as difficult as it might be to know an Ascione scorpion.”

“As much as I love our little tête-à-têtes , I am busy.” He gestured to the woman under his arm.

“I think we both know you are not.” She gestured to the club around them. “Per usual. But we do have a problem, and I’d like to discuss a solution with you.” She offered a polite smile to the actress who was watching them curiously. “In private.”

“I shall pass.”

“Do you think I came all this way with something that can simply be passed on, Luciano? I know you do not understand how anything important works, what kind of threat there is against your legacy, but I would think you would understand just how dire everything is if I would deign to come to you. In this place.”

“What’s wrong with your legacy?” the actress asked him, innocently enough.

Serena had to bite back a smile when he muttered irritably but stood. “We will discuss this in my office,” he said.

She glanced back at the actress, wondering if the woman had purposefully helped her along. A wink told her yes.

Serena chose to take this as a good sign for what was to come. She’d take any good sign in this nightmare.

Luciano marched ahead, and she followed him easily enough. Through throngs of people, into an elevator that a card opened. She assumed only his staff had access to the second floor. After a brief elevator ride, he moved into a hallway, and then into a well-appointed office.

He flipped on the lights, closed the door behind her when she entered, then faced off with her, arms across his chest.

“I do not care for accusations about my legacy in front of my companions for the evening.”

Serena nodded. “I do apologize,” she said, without any sincerity. “Are you unaware then? Perhaps this may come as a surprise to you, perhaps the men actually running Ascione have not filled you in. Or perhaps you simply do not understand—”

“I understand just what Ascione is up against,” he all but growled, looking fierce and dangerous.

She would not feel intimidated by that. She had been facing down wealthy, ego-driven men since she’d been a teenager. And she had learned how to come out on top. She had won over her father, which had been no small feat. It had required absolute perfection in everything she did.

And she had achieved that perfection. Still did, even with him gone. She used it as ballast and assurance that she could win over anyone .

“Then you know that if you do not do something in the next six months, Ascione will have to declare bankruptcy.”

His expression shuttered. “I know nothing of the sort.”

“Well, I do. Valli has more time, because I have been at the reins.” She would not admit that her father left her a mess almost as big as the one Luciano’s had left him. She would not admit that for a very brief period of time, she had been struck by the injustice of him being an imperfect mess while requiring perfection from her. “But there is a simple solution to our problems. A cure for both of us. Like with any cure, it is distasteful and might just kill us both first. Such is the nature of a last resort.”

“I am all aflutter, Serena. Do tell me your brilliant plan.”

Brilliant? She wished. She was down to desperate.

So, she didn’t pretty it up. She didn’t start with a lot of excuses or foolish words she didn’t mean. She went straight for it.

“Marry me.”

* * *

Luciano Ascione did not believe in hate. It was a wasted emotion. One that had eaten his father alive. Though he would never admit it to the woman standing before him, it had killed the great Gianluca Ascione just as much as the head on collision with a mountain had.

Luciano had always allowed himself one exception when it came to his relationship with hate. The dastardly Vallis. Most specifically the icy, perfect and damnable Serena Valli.

He hated her and enjoyed that hate almost as much as he enjoyed a salacious woman and an expensive whiskey.

It was a shame Serena was beautiful—that she wielded herself in a way he could not help but respect, if he was a fair man.

Luckily, he was not.

Marry me , she had said.

Chin raised, hazel eyes a sparkling challenge. Shoulders back, wearing the highest of heels that almost put her on equal footing with him.

Almost.

What he was really having a hard time getting over was the state of her hair. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it…like this. A halo of dark curls around her face, untamed and… He’d be tempted to call it wild if he thought Serena Valli was capable of wild.

She was not. She was a cold, calculated verme . Like her father before her. But worse, she seemed to have no vices. She did not gamble, as her father had. She did not seem to ever drink to excess, as his had. There were no trails of men, gossip or scandal. She was a robot.

And she was suggesting they marry . He knew it was a trick, but he couldn’t begin to reason out what the trick might be.

“Perhaps I’ve had a stroke,” he offered, to buy himself some time. Because Luciano did not ever find himself shocked or at a loss. Except on the news of his father’s demise.

And Serena Valli’s marriage proposal.

“You have not. Nor have I, though I can understand the confusion. Instead, it is an extreme solution to an extreme problem. I do not relish it, but do you know the kind of attention we can garner if we marry? Do you know the kind of money we could save if we merged our companies? The absolute stone wall to keep this upstart American out of our customers’ accounts? I don’t expect you to, of course, but I have the spreadsheets for whoever handles actually understanding your legacy for you. I shall e-mail them and answer any questions, if you’d give me the appropriate contact information.”

“There’s just one little problem,” Luciano said, smiling at her. Or perhaps he was only trying to smile. Her perfume was poisoning his office with a subtle, romantic floral scent that did not suit the woman at all. Perhaps that left him scowling.

“I hate you?” she supplied brightly.

“Not as much as I hate you.”

“This, we can debate later,” she said, waving it off like an annoying fly, not the center of both their beings. “This marriage, this merger, has nothing to do with emotions, and everything to do with saving our companies.”

“Why should you care about saving Ascione? You don’t. So, you are thinking only of saving yourself.”

“Yes. Lucky for you, the only way I can save myself is to save you as well. I do not expect your thanks, though will gallantly accept it should you ever be wise enough to extend it.”

Thanks . She was always such an incredibly arrogant harridan.

“The attention certainly wouldn’t hurt your little club either,” she continued, as if he had already agreed. As if he needed to agree.

“My club needs no extra attention.”

“What billionaire needs more, Luciano? They simply take it as their due. Or so I thought.”

He hated that he agreed with her. Hated that she was right about Ascione—any of his own money that he infused now would simply draw out the inevitable. He needed more of a plan than just plugging holes with money.

She claimed to have one, but…he did not for the life of him understand what she was attempting to do.

“If you give me the contact information of whoever handles Ascione business for you, I will e-mail them my spreadsheets immediately. I am prepared to give you forty-eight hours to consider my proposal once your staff have explained the situation to you.”

It was all so condescending. She was condescending. As if he needed staff to explain his own legacy to him.

But that was the image he had created. While his father had been alive, Luciano had lived and embodied that role when it came to Ascione—having nothing to do with the company, making sure he lived down to every one of his father’s low expectations, while quietly and privately focusing his talents on his club.

But after the accident, Luciano had been forced to catch up. Though he did not allow anyone to know just how much work he’d done there, how much he knew and understood. He’d invented a character, instead, and this was the contact information he gave Serena now.

Alan Emidio was Luciano’s “man of business”. He answered e-mails, took phone calls, studied P&L statements and all the deadly dull business things Luciano’s father had long ago given up on Luciano understanding.

Alan did not attend meetings, take phone calls or interact with anyone but Luciano because he did not exist.

Because Luciano understood just fine, now that he did not have to contend with the weight of his father’s impossible moving standards.

“I will expect to hear from you soon,” Serena said, with a politeness only she wielded like an accusation and a weapon. As if every time she chose the high road, she was sneering at whatever lower road she considered him on.

It was infuriating. “I would not wait up, Serena,” he returned, smiling at her with as much charm as he could manage. Because it annoyed her. “I have many…companions lined up for my evening.”

He saw the annoyance he’d wanted and an added dose of disgust chase over her face, even as she smiled in return, offered a nod and then turned and left his office.

Marry me , she had said.

Not a question. Not a beg. Not a joke . A statement of fact, as if that was the only possible answer to this problem they found themselves in.

Except they were not a they . They were enemies. Generations of Ascione and Vallis had fought to take over the shipping world in Genoa. And generation after generation, they had been more obsessed with hurting each other than changing with the times and building a sustainable business that would last.

Luciano had always considered that a waste, and pointless to try to talk his father out of. So he’d found something better to do with his time. He had convinced himself he did not care about his father, or Ascione or legacies.

It was funny what death could do to the things you convinced yourself of.

Still scowling at the door, he moved around his desk and then sat down at his computer. He booted up the profile for Alan Emidio.

She had, of course, already e-mailed him. So Luciano read the missive—businesslike, polite and to the point. There were a handful of attachments, and Luciano ignored everything—his guards, the club manager, his phone buzzing in his pocket—until he’d gone through every last one.

Then he sat back in his chair and cursed, scowling at the screen. She should not have known so much about Ascione. She must have implemented some spy—or more likely, her father had before he’d died.

When his father had been alive, Luciano had not been involved in the business. He had not been deemed worthy. He would not fight his father’s low opinion of him.

But with the man gone, Luciano had not been able to let Ascione crumble into the sea. He had thought he would, but something ate at him. A surprising need to show a dead man he’d been dead wrong.

He’d been bailing water out of a sinking boat without a lifeline. And still he had not given up, even though Serena was right. Six months, unless he did something drastic, was the most he could eke out of Ascione before failing.

He didn’t need Ascione, but he wanted it. Alive and whole. Perhaps one last I told you so to his father.

He could hardly marry Serena Valli, merge their companies. It was ludicrous on many a level. It was beyond drastic. It was insanity.

He could ignore it, but she had information and insights she shouldn’t.

And that could not stand.