The Billionaire's Forced Bride

Laura’s Pov An insistent buzz against my desk drew my attention away from my computer screen. My stomach sank when I reached for my personal phone and saw who was calling.I shouldn’t take personal calls in the middle of work but one simply didn’t ignore a summons from Gerald LeVert.I double-checked to make sure there were no emergencies requiring my immediate attention before I answered. “Hello, Father.” The formal greeting rolled off my tongue easily after almost twenty years of practice.I used to call him Dad, but after LeVert Technologies took off and we moved out of our three-bedroom apartment into a five million dollar mansion, he insisted on being called Father instead. Apparently, it sounded more “sophisticated” and “upper class. ”“Where are you?” His deep voice rumbled over the line. “I’m at work.” I leaned my hip against the counter and felt compelled to add, “We signed a deal with Gucci and are reviewing new designs for the summer.”I smiled at his heavy sigh. My father nearly lost his marbles when I told him I wanted to study fashion design in college but after hosting my first fashion show and signing million dollar deals with big brands, let's just say he became “slightly” proud of me. “Since you’re at work, I’ll keep this short,” my father said. “We’d like you to join us for dinner tonight. We have important news.”My smile faded. “Tonight?” “Yes.” My father didn’t elaborate. “Dinner is at seven sharp. Don’t be late.” He hung up. My phone stayed frozen on my ear for an extra beat before I removed it. It slipped against my clammy palm and almost clattered to the floor before I shoved it back into my purse. It was funny how one sentence could send me into an anxiety spiral.Do we have important news?Did something happen with the company? Was someone sick or dying? My mind raced through with a thousand questions and possibilities.I didn’t have an answer, but I knew one thing.An emergency summons to the LeVert Mansion never boded well.*****The LeVert Mansion looked like something out of a real estate flyer. The building was tall, regal and imposing. The interior cost over a million dollars with tufted settees sat at right angles to carved wood tables and porcelain tea sets jostled for space next to priceless tchotchkes. Some people had homes, my parents owned a showpiece. “Your skin looks dull.” My mother narrowed her grey eyes at me. “Have you been keeping up with your monthly facials? ”“Yes, Mother.” My cheeks ached from the forced politeness of my smile.I’d stepped foot in my childhood home ten minutes ago, and I’d already been criticized for my hair (too messy), my nails (too long), and now, my complexion. Just another night at the LeVert Mansion. “Good. Remember, you can’t let your skin get dry,” my mother said. “You’ll be getting married soon. ”I paused “What?” Beside her, my father’s thick, gray-tipped brows formed a stern V over the bridge of his nose.Fifty-five years old, spry, and fit, Gerald LeVert looked every inch the self-made CEO. He’d expanded LeVert from a small tech company to a multinational behemoth over three decades, and a silent stare from him was enough to make me shrink back against the couch cushions.“It’s clear you don’t feel the same urgency we do about getting married, which is why I took matters into my own hands.” My father sounded unimpressed as he spoke.My tea froze halfway to my lips. “Meaning?”I thought the important news he wanted to tell me had to do with my sister or the company. But what if…My blood froze.No. It couldn’t be. “Meaning I’ve secured a suitable match for you.” My father dropped the bombshell with little to no warning or visible emotion. “It took quite a bit of work on my end, but the arrangement has been finalized. ”I’ve secured a suitable match for you?My teacup clattered back onto its plate, earning me a frown from my mother.For once, I was too busy processing to worry about her disapproval.Arranged marriages were common practice in our world of big business. My parents had married my sister off to a billionaire who was old enough to be her father and I’d known my turn was coming. I just hadn’t expected it to come so… soon. “We’ve let you drag your feet too long, and this match will be enormously beneficial for us,” my father continued. “I’m sure you’ll agree once you meet him at dinner. ”“Dinner? As in, tonight’s dinner?” My voice sounded distant and strange, as if I was hearing it in a bad dream. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”Being ambushed with news of an arranged marriage match was bad enough. Meeting my future fiancé with zero preparation was a hundred times worse. No wonder my mother was being even more critical than normal. She was expecting her future son-in-law as a guest.My stomach lurched, and the possibility of spilling its contents all over my mother’s prized Persian rug inched closer to reality.Everything was happening too fast. The dinner summons, the news of my engagement, the impending meeting, made my head spin. “He didn’t confirm until today due to…scheduling complications.” My father smoothed a hand over his shirt. “You’ll have to meet him eventually. It doesn’t matter whether it’s tonight, a week, or even a month from now. ”Actually, it does matter. There’s a difference between being mentally prepared to meet my fiancé and having him thrown in my face with no warning.My head felt dizzy, but I clung to the mask I always wore at home. “So.” I swallowed my bile and forced a light tone. “Does my future husband have a name? ” “Of course, he does.” My spine stiffened at the deep, unexpected voice behind me. It was so close I could feel the rumble of words against my back. They slid over me like sun-warmed honey with a faint Italian accent that made my toes curl in my shoe. “Ah, there you are.” My father rose, a strangely triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Thank you for coming at such short notice. ”“How could I pass up the opportunity to meet your lovely daughter?” The stranger said with a hint of mockery, instantly washing away the budding attraction I had for his voice.I’d learned to trust my gut when it came to people, and my gut told me the owner of the voice wasn't as thrilled about the dinner. “Laura, say hello to our guest. ” If my mother beamed any harder, her face would split in half.I half-expected her to prop her cheek on her hand and sigh dreamily like a highschoolgirl with a crush. I pushed the disturbing image out of my mind before I lifted my chin, stood, and turned.Suddenly, all the air whooshed out of my lungs.With thick black hair, bronze skin, and a slightly crooked nose that added to his ruggedly masculine charm, my future husband was devastatingly handsome.There were generically good-looking men and there was him. And, unlike his voice, his face was eminently recognizable.My heart sank.Impossible. There was no way HE was my arranged fiancé. This had to be a joke. “Laura.” My mother disguised her rebuke as my name.Right. Dinner. Fiancée. Meeting.I shook myself out of my stupor and summoned a strained but polite smile. “Laura LeVert. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I said as I held out my hand.A beat passed before he took it. Warm strength engulfed my palm and sent a jolt of electricity up my arm.“So I gathered from the multiple times your mother said your name.” The laziness of his drawl played off the observation as a joke. “Giovanni Moretti. The pleasure is all. mine.”