His Beautiful Revenge

1. Chapter One-2

Giacomo Conti was bored. Yet another cocktail party with people he had nothing in common with, yet another evening wasted when he could be working, or reading, or hanging out with his own, more sedate friends. But then again, he reasoned, Tara was willing to appear with him for public events whenever he needed her, so it was only fair. He looked across at her now, seeing her blonde hair falling to her shoulders, her petite, doll-like features, and her long, long legs. Tara Hubert was the world’s highest-paid supermodel and she was with him. Giacomo Conti was a self-made billionaire, an Italian geek whose brilliance within the technology field had sent his career into the stratosphere when he was just nineteen.

Almost half a lifetime and now he was bored. His company, Conti-Tech, was competing with the Googles and Facebooks of the world and was on target to be a trillion-dollar company any day now. Yet Giacomo found himself envious of the lives his friends led—more sedate and less shallow. As teachers, writers, artist, and lawyers, they didn’t work any less hard for what they had; it was just their fields didn’t pay as much, apart from the lucky few. Giacomo’s best friend and his brother in arms, Orlando Price, was a school teacher in one of the city’s poorest schools, and yet the results he had with his kids, the hope and inspiration he imparted, was priceless. Giacomo’s evenings with Orlando, his wife, Carmel, and their seven-year-old daughter, Ferma, were his absolute favorite times. Tara never joined them. She had little time for the “little” people, and she and Carmel had no time for each other whatsoever. Tara’s beauty was icy and cold, whereas Carmel’s dark good looks were sensual and exciting. Tara was jealous, so when Giacomo insisted on spending time with his friends, Tara always cried off—to everyone’s relief.

And now …Giacomo realized he hadn’t been listening to the man talking to him, but there was a good reason. Tara was cheating on him. Giacomo had suspected it for months and now he had a name to go with his suspicions: Lucian Hargity. Giacomo had had his private detectives follow Tara for the last three months, document and photograph every time she met with the man, and build a portfolio that, when Giacomo confronted her, Tara would not be able to deny.

It had been Carmel who had started him thinking. She’d mentioned she’d seen Tara in the city with another man months previously, not realizing that Tara had told Giacomo that she would be in New York for work. Carmel had been horrified to think she had casually blurted out the evidence of Tara’s cheating, but Giacomo had reassured her it had been for the best. Carmel had shaken her head angrily.

“Giacomo, I know it shouldn’t be my business, but don’t ever bring that woman here again. I don’t take her cheating on you lightly.”

There had been a nasty incident a few weeks later when the two women had come face-to-face. Carmel had to be restrained by her husband as Tara bitched at her about Giacomo’s emersion in work, and she couldn’t help blurting out that at least Giacomo knew about loyalty. Tara had asked her what she meant by that and Carmel had snarled at her. “You know.”

Giacomo had feigned innocence when Tara asked him about it and Carmel had apologized to Giacomo for her mouth. “It gets away from me sometimes,” she said ruefully, hugging him. “I just can’t stand the fact that she had the nerve to cheat on you.”

Giacomo had hugged her tightly. “Don’t worry, Bella. I’ll handle it.”

Since then, he had bided his time, burying himself in work as his detectives gathered the evidence. Only today he had been at a meeting—completely disengaged—that afterward he had decided to go to the workplace of Hargity’s girlfriend and sister. He had donned a baseball cap over his dark curls and stuck some Wayfarers on his face to cover his distinctive green eyes.

At thirty-seven, Giacomo Conti was considered one of the world’s handsomest, most eligible (said the women’s magazines, choosing to forget his relationship with Tara) bachelors. His tall, darkly handsome face was saved from being generic by the brooding, almost dangerous set of his green eyes rimmed by thick, black lashes, his chin dimple, and his strong jaw. His black hair was left to grow in wild curls, and he was a man who could make both a Saville Row suit and an Abercrombie and Fitch sweater look good. His broad shoulders, slim hips, and long legs contributed to his demeanor, and on the rare occasion that he smiled, it lit up the room.

Giacomo knew he was good looking and did not believe in false modesty. When he was younger, he had screwed his way across Italy, then Europe, and finally, the world. His s****l prowess was legendary. Giacomo deliberately let the world think he was a playboy and as deep as a puddle. It suited him to know that the real Giacomo was still that little geek playing with computers in his small house in Trani. His small circle of “real” friends knew him as “Jack” and knew the fun-loving, loyal, big-hearted man beneath the image. He trusted few people with the truth …especially not women.

So, when Tara’s infidelity came to light, he hadn’t been that shocked. And today, when he’d gone to the little bookshop, Anthology, in the Russian Hill district, he had been pleasantly surprised at the laid-back feel and the friendliness. The giant St. Bernard had taken a shine to him and sat with him as he drank the superb coffee and watched the two women who ran the shop. Giacomo could barely take his eyes off the taller woman, Tara’s lover’s girlfriend. Her sweet smile, her easy, infectious laughter, her patient way with customers, and her literary knowledge spoke to Giacomo in a way he’d never felt.

He’s cheating on you, lovely girl? i***t, he thought in disbelief. When the phone had rung and the younger woman had yelled out the bastard’s name, Giacomo had felt immediately on edge—almost jealous, almost wanting to yell at her to ignore it and that the figlio di puttana wasn’t good enough for her. He’d watched her face break into a smile and couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break this lovely girl’s heart.

He’d left soon after, unable to stand it. At home, he hadn’t been able to resist Googling her. Norah Reddy, part owner of The Anthology Bookstore and also a freelance graphic designer. He looked through her online portfolio and was impressed. He called Sebastien, his longtime personal assistant, and asked him to set up a meeting with her. “I think we might find her useful for the some of the campaigns we have coming up,” He told Seb. Also, she’s gorgeous and I want to see her again. He grinned to himself as he hung up. Two birds with one stone. If he could harness the woman’s obvious talent and get that beautiful body into his bed …opportunity and revenge in one go.

He smiled to himself again now as the cocktail party droned on. Watching Tara network and flirt with the men in the room (Giacomo knew Tara barely registered the other women, knowing she was the most beautiful woman there), he wondered how he had ever gotten involved with her. She was so totally opposite of what he was attracted to, but then again, five years ago he’d been reeling from the death of his grandparents—cancer, within weeks of each other—and he’d dealt with it by drinking and numbing the pain by screwing around. Tara had seen his sadness and moved in, telling him she was what he needed.

He felt a pang of sadness now. Yes, he had needed her then and he couldn’t help but know that he was partially responsible for the fracture in their relationship now. He was obsessed with his work and passionate about what he could achieve. He had neglected her and Tara wasn’t a woman to neglect. He’d seen the disgust in her eyes when she looked at him. Maybe he should just cut her free.

His phone beeped—a message from Orlando. Dinner with Carmel and me, Friday?

Giacomo smiled. “Yes, god, please.” Hell, yes. Send black-ops to get me out of this party.

Ha ha. Grit your teeth. See you Friday, buddy.

Giacomo sighed. What he wouldn’t give to have a time machine now. Still, he had no meetings tomorrow as yet …so he could always go spend some time in that little bookshop …

He pushed the thought away and went to get his drink refilled.