Page 66 of Under Her Skin
No Promises
A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
English grad student Anoushka ‘Noosh’ Taylor is working as a junior reporter for a successful New York City radio network under the mentorship of her heroine, Allison Monroe. On the cusp of producing her first big story, an exposé of New York’s BDSM club scene, Noosh is issued a challenge to go the extra mile and attend a club to see for herself. Summoning her courage, she finds herself caught up in a moment she can’t escape with a devastatingly handsome man, and after being humiliated by him, she leaves in tears, vowing never toreturn.
Angry and hurt, Noosh drops the piece but cannot stop thinking about her almostlover.
When they decide to do a piece on the most eligible bachelor in New York, Noosh is thrown into the path of Christofalo Montecito, playboy and son of organized crime boss, Fogliano Montecito. Christo is gorgeous, brooding, sensual – and the man who humiliated her at the BDSMclub.
Noosh reacts badly, but when Christo apologizes, she begins to see a different side of him. Soon, their mutual attraction grows, and Noosh finds herself falling for Christo – but can a son of a crime boss ever be reliable,trustworthy?
When dark secrets from both of their pasts reveal themselves, Noosh and Christo have to decide whether their attraction is more than just a casual thing, and discover just how far they will go to saveit.
Can Noosh give him the trust he has yet to earn? Or will Christo reveal himself to be his father’sson?
* * *
ChapterOne
Long Island, NewYork
Christofalo Montecito stared at his father in astonishment. Hecouldn’tbe taking Christo’s news this easily.Nuh-uh, no way.“Dad, you understand what I’m tellingyou?”
Fogliano Montecito gazed back at his son with the same brilliant green eyes he had bestowed on his only child. “Christo, do I look like an idiot? You want out of my business, that’s the crux of the matter,right?”
Christo hesitated. “Right. Look, Dad, it’s not as if I haven’t mentioned this before, and I’m almost forty now, and it’s time. I’ve given you the last seventeen years, all my time aftercollege.”
“College that my business paidfor.”
Here we go.“Yes, Dad, and I’m grateful for it, don’t get me wrong. But I need to make my own way…and some aspects of the family business don’t sit easily withme.”
Fogliano held up his hands. “Enough. Christo, you must do what you think is right, what is appropriate.” He sighed and pushed back from his desk, standing and clapping his son on the back. “Now, you’ll still be coming to the mealtonight?”
Christo, still stunned, nodded. “Sure,Dad.”
“Good. Now, I have to get back to work. You can see yourselfout?”
“Of course. See youlater.”
Christo noddedto his father’s personal assistant, Mandy, who simpered at him. Christo tried not to roll his eyes and instead gave her a polite smile. At thirty-eight, with his father’s Italian good looks and devastating smile, Christofalo Montecito had turned heads since he was a teenager. Wild dark curls, long, long legs and a body to die for meant that Christo had the pick of any women he wanted. And he took fulladvantage.
Lately, though, the constant stream of ready women was tiresome.Where was the challenge, where was the fight?Christo was feeling jaded by his entire lifestyle. Rich beyond imagination, he had begun to crave a simpler life, with a partner he could settle down with. Someone who would challenge him hold her own against the shattering weight of his family’sreputation.
The Montecitos were well known in New York as one of the biggest family businesses – and that business was crime. Corruption, drugs, murder – Fogliano Montecito’s reputation was feared by everyone, even his son. Christo had lost his mother to Fogliano’s devotion to his corporation. Ornella Montecito had leaped to her death from the roof of the family’s eighteen million dollar home in Sands Point, Long Island when Christo was seven years old, leaving her only son bewildered and broken. Christo had become an expert at shutting off his feelings after that, and after graduatingsumma cum laudefrom Harvard Law, he had passively gone straight to work for hisfather.
Over the years, Christo had told himself that at least he, personally, was on the right side of the law, that he himself never oversaw anything that wastechnicallyillegal…but as he’d reached his late thirties, his conscience began to nag athim.
And there was something else. Christo, like his mother, had an artist’s soul, and the more mired he got into practicing law, the more that side of him – and therefore his connection to his mother – faded. For the last couple of years he had been living a double life, and now thatotherlife was the one he wanted to live. Hence the conversation with his father thismorning.
Christo took the glass elevator from the top of his father’s building down to the basement parking garage, and then slid into his Mercedes. He sighed, blowing out his cheeks, and dialed his best friend’snumber.
Bertie Franklin-Hart answered on the first ring. “Hey, dude, how’d itgo?”
“It went…well.” Christo knew Bertie would hear the astonishment in his voice, and by Bertie’s silence, he knew Bertie was feeling ittoo.
“Well?” Total disbelief. Christo’s mouth hitched up in asmile.
“Yup. Can you believeit?”
