Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss Read online

  The princess and the billionaire

  Princess Tuccianna Leonardi has fled from her arranged marriage and desperately needs a place to hide from her family. So when gorgeous Sicilian billionaire Cesare Donati offers her a job as his hotel’s new pastry chef, it seems like all Tuccia’s prayers have been answered.

  As they work together morning, noon and night, Cesare soon falls for his raven-haired beauty. Romance might be simmering between them, but with Tuccia still on the run, can Cesare keep his princess safe and promise her their happy-ever-after?

  The Billionaire’s Club

  Meet the world’s most eligible bachelors...

  by

  Rebecca Winters

  For tycoons Vincenzo Gagliardi, Takis Manolis and Cesare Donati, transforming the Castello di Lombardi into one of Europe’s most highly sought-after hotels will be more than just a business venture—it’s a challenge to be relished!

  But these three men, bound by a friendship as strong as blood, are about to discover that the chase is only half the fun as three women conquer their hearts and change their lives forever...

  Return of Her Italian Duke

  Bound to Her Greek Billionaire

  Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss

  Available now!

  Dear Reader,

  Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss is the third book in The Billionaire’s Club miniseries.

  The devilishly handsome Cesare Donati is the last of the three friends and business partners who own the Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi in Milan to meet the woman who was made for him. Before she comes into his life, he can’t really see himself ever settling down to marriage. Then suddenly, while he’s conducting the business that has made him so successful, out of nowhere there she is! The gorgeous Tuccia Leonardi who has fled from a fate worse than death runs straight into Cesare’s arms. An accident, or destiny? I’ll let you, the reader, decide.

  Enjoy!

  Rebecca Winters

  WHISKED AWAY BY

  HER SICILIAN BOSS

  Rebecca Winters

  Rebecca Winters lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favorite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels—because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website at cleanromances.com.

  Books by Rebecca Winters

  Harlequin Romance

  The Billionaire’s Club

  Return of Her Italian Duke

  Bound to Her Greek Billionaire

  The Vineyards of Calanetti

  His Princess of Convenience

  The Montanari Marriages

  The Billionaire’s Baby Swap

  The Billionaire Who Saw Her Beauty

  Greek Billionaires

  The Millionaire’s True Worth

  A Wedding for the Greek Tycoon

  The Billionaire’s Prize

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  To all of you readers who have read my books and let me know you enjoy them. You’ll never know what your kind, encouraging words do to make this author’s job a pure delight!

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EXCERPT FROM THE SHEIKH’S PREGNANT BRIDE BY JESSICA GILMORE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Salon des Reines, Paris, France

  THE CHAUFFEUR OF Le Comte Jean-Michel Ardois pulled the limousine up in front of the bridal salon on the Rue de L’Echelle. In the last two weeks Princess Tuccianna Falcone Leonardi of Sicily had been here with her mother three times for the bridal dress fitting. Each time they’d come, she’d made excuses to visit the bathroom in order to study the layout of the exclusive shop.

  This morning was her final fitting to make sure everything was perfect for the wedding ceremony tomorrow. Only Tuccia had no intention of showing up for the elaborate nuptials arranged by her parents and Comte Ardois ten years ago in a horrifying, ironclad betrothal forced upon her. She’d dreamed of her freedom forever. Now had come the moment for her escape.

  Madame Dufy, the owner, welcomed them inside. After fussing over Tuccia and telling her how excited she was for her forthcoming marriage to the comte, she took them back to the dressing room befitting a queen.

  “Delphine will be with you in just a moment with your gown. It’s as exquisite as you are, Princess.”

  The second she left, Tuccia turned to her mother, the Marchesa di Trabia of Sicily. “I need to go to the restroom.”

  “Surely not!”

  “I can’t help it. You know how I get when I’m nervous.”

  “You are impossible, Tuccia!”

  “If I don’t go, it might happen in here.”

  Her mother’s hands flew up in the air. “All right! But don’t take too long. We have a long list of things that must be done today.”

  “I’ll hurry, Mamma.”

  Yes, she’d hurry. Right out of the clutches of the comte!

  She knew he planned to assign her a bodyguard the moment they were married and never let her out of his sight for the rest of their lives. After overhearing him discuss it with her parents, who’d said she needed a strong hand, she’d been planning how to disappear.

  Tuccia opened the door and walked down the hall to the door of the bathroom. But she only went inside to leave her betrothal ring on the floor near the sink. Whoever found it could think what they wanted. After looking around to make sure no one had seen her, she rushed down another hallway straight out the back door of the shop.

  From there it was only a short run down the alley used for delivery trucks to the street where she climbed in a taxi.

  “Le Bourget Aeroport, s’il vous plait.”

  Her heart refused to stop thudding as they drove off. She looked behind her. No one had come running out of the alley chasing after her yet. Tuccia prayed all the way to the airport where she boarded an Eljet chartered for her under a fake name and paid for her by her aunt Bertina. Once it landed in Palermo, Sicily, she’d take a taxi to her aunt’s palazzo.

  Before long Tuccia’s favorite person in the whole world would be offering her sanctuary. Her life would continue to depend on Bertina’s help, or all was lost.

  The next day, Milan, Italy

  Dinner had concluded in the private dining room of the legendary fourteenth-century castello, the home of the former first Duc di Lombardi in Milan, Italy.

  Vincenzo Gagliardi, the present-day duc, lifted his goblet with the insignia of the Gagliardi coat of arms. “Buona fortuna this trip, Cesare. Our business is depending on you. May you return with my wife’s replacement soon. The baby will be here in two months. I want Gemma off her feet ASAP.”

  “Amen,” Takis declared, raising his glass
. “You’re going to have to be quick, amico.” He touched his goblet to Cesare’s, and they sipped the local vintage Lombardia that Vincenzo had produced from the vast wine cellar for his send-off.

  Cesare Donati eyed his two best friends with a smile. They’d been like brothers to him for more than a decade. Together they’d turned the former fortress palace of Vincenzo’s family into the five-star Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi, Europe’s most sought-after resort.

  “I have a surprise for you. I’ll be back in two days with our new pastry chef. I told Gemma as much this morning.”

  “That soon?” they said in unison.

  “It’s been arranged for a while, so have no concerns.”

  His friends smiled in relief. For Cesare’s contribution to their successful enterprise, he’d already found the perfect person to replace Gemma as the castello’s new executive pastry chef.

  But he’d been keeping the identity of his choice a secret until he could present Ciro Fragala in person with one of his many specialties for their delectation.

  Vincenzo’s wife had learned to make Florentine pastry from her mother who’d cooked for the last duc. Though her cooking was perfection and drew the elite clientele that came to the castello, in Cesare’s opinion the best cook in the world was his own Sicilian mother.

  She’d learned from the nuns who made divine pastries and ran the orphanage where she’d been raised until she turned eighteen. On her say-so—and she would know better than anyone else—Cesare had done the necessary research on Signor Fragala, the pastry cook she’d declared to be the finest in all Sicily. After a visit to the Palermo restaurant with his mother two months ago, he’d agreed totally with her assessment.

  Hiring Ciro meant sensational new desserts for their business enterprise in Milan. The two of them had met with the fifty-five-year-old widower several times in the last few weeks. The chef had said he would leap at the chance to work at the famous castello restaurant.

  Since he didn’t have children, it wouldn’t be a problem to move. He’d given his notice and Cesare planned to fly him to Milan. The new chef would work well with their executive French chef at the castello. Most of all, the guys would be pleased by the man’s amiable personality.

  “We’ll drive you to the airport,” Vincenzo stated.

  Cesare shook his head. “Thanks, but you’ve done enough by surprising me with this dinner. You’ve both got pregnant wives who’ve been generous enough to let us have this meal together. By now they’ll be wondering where you are. The limo is waiting as we speak.”

  “Then we’ll walk you out,” Vincenzo murmured.

  “Grazie.”

  He drained the rest of his wine and got to his feet. Reaching for the suitcase he’d left by the double doors, he moved ahead of them to the portrait-lined corridor of the former ducs with their legendary silvery eyes.

  “Stay safe,” Takis said as Cesare climbed in the rear of the limo.

  “Always.”

  Vincenzo smiled. “We can’t wait to meet this mystery paragon of pastry chefs.” He patted Cesare’s shoulder and shut the door before it drove away from the castello.

  Two hours later, the Lombardi ducal jet arrived at Palermo International Airport, where another limousine waited for him on the tarmac. Cesare told the driver to take him to the posh Mondello borough. It was there he’d bought a villa in the famed art nouveau style for his mother and sister who was now married and lived in the city with her husband and their toddler.

  He’d wanted nothing but the best for his wonderful mamma, Lina Donati.

  She would never leave Palermo. After being raised by the nuns and learning how to cook from them, she’d started out working in a local restaurant after leaving the orphanage.

  Her subsequent marriage was short-lived. Abandoned by her husband, she’d cooked her way through life to support their little family and had made a name for herself. Cesare believed she made the best food on earth. In her honor he’d had a state-of-the-art kitchen installed because he couldn’t do enough for her.

  Thanks to a bad back from being on her feet all the time, she now cooked exclusively for Bertina Spadaro, who wasn’t a demanding employer. Cesare had begged her to retire. He would take care of her forever. But his mother said she couldn’t imagine not having work to do and she loved Bertina. The aristocratic older sister of the Marchesa di Leonardi di Trabia had become her friend.

  The Leonardi family descended from the royal Sicilian family of the commune of Trabia, thirty miles from Palermo, and could trace their roots back to the 1400s, when the land and castle were granted them by Frederick III. The present marchese and marchesa had established their own palazzo in the heart of Palermo.

  Bertina and Lina had become fast friends over the years and were in each other’s confidence. The rest of the time his mother spent with Cesare’s family, or tended her spectacular herb garden.

  The elite area of Mondello had everything: exclusive yachting clubs dotting its sandy beach, restaurants, shops and a marina with numerous yachts, including the marchese’s gleaming white royal yacht that stood out from the others.

  Before buying the villa for her, Cesare, too, had been captivated as he’d walked through the sand of its private beach front, inhaling the air filled with the heady scent of orange blossoms and jasmine. Whenever he flew to Palermo, Cesare was reminded that with all its rich history, there was nowhere else in the world he found more fascinating.

  But tonight as they drove into the ancient, colorful city, he was met with the strong smells of fish and spices that always brought back memories of his youth. There was a hint of the old Arab souks, taking him back to his childhood. As a boy, these streets with their subtle niches and labyrinths had been his backyard.

  His father had been in the merchant marines, but ran off before Cesare was a year old, leaving his mother to work in a trattoria and support him and his older sister Isabella. They’d lived in the apartment above it in a rougher neighborhood of Palermo. Cesare’s world had been filled with lots of purse snatchers, few showers that usually didn’t work, grueling heat. Everything had been run-down and chaotic.

  Since he’d been too young to remember his father, he didn’t miss him, only the idea of him. Cesare had envied his friends who had fathers and taught them things. Early in life he’d felt embarrassed at times that he was the only one who went to mass unaccompanied while the other boys walked in the church with their own fathers.

  As he grew up, the embarrassment went away, but he lacked the confidence he saw in his friends whose sense of belonging seemed to give them an extra layer of it.

  Cesare couldn’t comprehend a man abandoning his wife and children, never caring about them again. Sometimes in his teens he’d dreamed about meeting his father, but those dreams were unsatisfactory because his father always turned away from him. The dreams eventually stopped, but not the feeling that there was something lacking in him.

  At the age of thirty, Cesare was living a different life. Thanks to the college mentor who’d taught him and his partners how to invest, his worth now figured in the billions. But the past could never be forgotten and had formed him into the man he’d become.

  Over time he’d seen enough to decide romantic love was transitory at most. Of course there were exceptions, like his partners’ marriages. But at this stage in his life Cesare wasn’t that confident that he was marriage material. He hadn’t witnessed two parents loving each other. So far he felt he was better off alone like his mother. With a sister and brother-in-law and their daughter Elana, Cesare was happy enough with the family he loved.

  In fact he had all he needed, including the occasional relationship with a woman. There was no guarantee that one would stay with him if he did get married, or that it would last.

  Or that he might not be more like his father than he thought...

&
nbsp; From time to time that thought haunted him because he hadn’t met a woman who meant everything to him. Maybe he’d subconsciously pushed them away so he didn’t have to deal with commitment. Though he didn’t want to bring up past pain to his mother, one of these days he would have a talk with her about the man who’d disappeared on their family, on him.

  When the limo finally reached the villa, Cesare put his darker thoughts away and paid the driver before getting out. His mother was expecting him, and knew he’d be flying Ciro Fragala back to Milan with him the next day. But it was close to one o’clock. She always went to bed early.

  He’d told her not to wait up and they’d talk in the morning before Ciro arrived at the villa in a limo Cesare had arranged for ahead of time. The man would be shipping his belongings to Milan and he’d stay in a room at the castello until he decided where he wanted to live.

  Every time Cesare came to Palermo, he was charmed by the large ochre-colored villa spread over two floors with three beautiful terraces and a Mediterranean garden. The small pool was lined with glazed tiles of North African origin.

  From the terrace off the dining room he was met with a glorious view of the Gulf front. It was a sight he’d always loved after climbing the bluff called Mount Pellegrino many times in his youth. From there he could imagine himself escaping the suffocating heat and madness of the city and sailing away to America. Incredibly that dream had come true.

  Once he’d entered the foyer, he turned off the outside light and moved across the stone tiles of the villa in the dark to the kitchen with his suitcase. After setting it down, his first instinct was to grab himself a small bottle of his favorite grappa digestivo from the cabinet where he knew it was kept, then head upstairs to his suite with it. Before sleep, all he wanted was to take a few sips to remind him he was back in the land of his roots.

  But as he turned to pick up his suitcase, he bumped into another body and heard a cry.

  “Mamma?” He automatically hugged her to him. “Mi dispiace tanto. I didn’t think you’d be up this late. Did I hurt you?”

 
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