The Italian's Bedroom Deal Page 0,1

to pay to a kidnapper if anything had actually happened to her.

That’s okay, she reminded herself as she ducked beneath the willow tree and surveyed the large, elegantly dressed crowd that had already formed in her father’s backyard. There were perks to her current situation and tonight, she was going to take advantage of one. The party wasn’t difficult to view since the whole area was lit up with twinkle lights woven into the trees, candles on every table, torches lining the multi-layered patios while flood lights strategically lit up the fabulous looking pool and meticulously manicured gardens. There was a well known singer on stage already belting out her latest number one hit and guests in a rainbow of elegant, designer clothes mingled, laughed and celebrated her father’s sixtieth birthday together while drinking champagne that cost more per bottle than some people’s entire monthly salary.

Clarissa might have been born into this world, but she didn’t have to agree with it. She worked hard to buy her own clothes and her own food and she even paid her father a monthly rent equivalent to what another apartment would cost her in town, even if he never bothered to cash the checks. She made her own money, even if her father disagreed that translating manuscripts and documents was not really a career.

And that part hurt. She argued against her father’s opinion of her career choice, albeit to herself. Everyone had a career ladder to climb. Hers was just a little more ambiguous. For instance, she had translated several difficult technical documents over the past several years which had grown her reputation and her hard work had built up a very good clientele. But she could do better, she knew. She wanted to start her own company and expand into other areas of translation. And why shouldn’t she build something more? She had a great standing in many companies and the know-how to start a business after years of listening to her father and his cronies discuss the strengths and weaknesses of various companies they were taking over or creating. She’d absorbed every detail over the years and soon she would put all that inside information to good use.

Tonight, however, was only about her personal goals she told herself as she pushed her father’s dislike of her chosen career out of her mind. Who cared if he scoffed at her work? She found it satisfying and intellectually stimulating so she refused to care what he thought.

This night, this party and her wearing this particular dress had nothing to do with her career or making new connections professionally. She had a private goal in mind and only one man who could fulfill that ambition. Tonight, she was going to go through with her proposition to him no matter how terrified she was.

Her father had been thrilled when she’d asked if one particular name had been on the guest list. He would bend over backwards if Clarissa desired a marriage to this particular man. But Clarissa was having nothing to do with marriage. Oh, she loved romance novels and happy ever after movies with sweet, sappy endings that made a person weep and sigh at the same time. They were wonderful and she gorged on them in her spare time. Marriage, however, was not in her future.

“Clarissa!” a female voice said from a few feet away.

Clarissa looked to her right and smothered a cringe. Vanessa Brightridge was bearing down on her with a determined look, pulling her husband along in her wake. “Good evening, Vanessa. How are you?” she asked, accepting the air kisses the pretentious woman doled out as a way to mimic a closer friendship than was real.

“I’m doing great!” she exclaimed with a soft, husky laugh. “Your father definitely knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he?” Her eyes were bright with excitement and anticipation as she considered all the possibilities, in the form of men probably.

Clarissa ignored the poor grammar and looked around at the guests casually strolling around the patio and pool area of her father’s backyard and wondered how many were genuinely enjoying themselves. Suppressing that cynical reaction to people she didn’t know and, therefore, shouldn’t judge, she smiled and ignored the pretentiousness surrounding her. “Yes, he definitely has a way with entertainment,” she replied, knowing that her father simply called up a party organizing firm and they did most of the work. All her father did was ask his secretary to provide the firm a list of