Manacled in Monaco by Jianne Carlo Read Free Book Online Page A

Lamborghini?”
    His son rocked on sneakered heels in obvious vacillation, temptation marking his features with a shuttered scowl. “I should ask Mom, but she’d probably say no.”
    “I’m your dad and I give you permission. Hustle it, Tony, before she gets out here and reads the riot act to both of us. Your mom has a temper.”
    “Don’t I know it? Not that she’s ever hit me or anything,” he said. “But she gives you this disappointed look and well, I’d prefer it if she just yelled like other moms do.”
    They hit the deck as Austen brought the car around and swung out of the driver’s seat. Flipping the keys into the air, he quipped, “A bit slow on the acceleration. I took her into the mountains to warm her up for you.”
    Nabbing the keys from the high point of the thrown arc, Rolan said, “Funny how you always take half an hour to bring her around. I reckon you spend more time driving her than I do.”
    “Perks, boss, perks. You taking our young lad for a spin? Does Sarita know?”
    “She’s not his only parent. I do have some say.”
    “You think?” Austen lifted a dark eyebrow.
    “He’s my dad,” Tony said and added, “I didn’t know until today.”
    “It’s fairly obvious,” the bosun answered, stroking a forefinger and thumb around his stubbled chin. “You’re the image of your father when he was young and good looking.”
    “Too right,” Rolan concurred. “Hop on in, son. Let’s get out of here before your mother stops us.”
    Hordes of local traffic swarmed around a tram bus filled with curious visitors. Tourism and gambling provided Monaco’s base of revenue, and the tiny monarchy catered to its guests. Tourist depots dotted main avenues, policemen dressed in royal blue uniforms and white gloves directed traffic. Overpriced and overrated, Monte Carlo held allure only for those who could afford to pay through the nose. Then it became paradise on earth, sated any perverted desire, and if you had the dough and gambled, you could be crowned.
    Tony didn’t know all of that. His son seemed enthralled by the perfect setting, the clean as spit streets, the hordes of expensive one-of-a-kind cars crowded into traffic jams, crawling forward on a centimeter-by-centimeter pace.
    His son.
    It seemed like a dream. Had he ever wanted one? It didn’t matter. Having one did strange things to a carefree bachelor, like make him ponder obscure abstracts such as life and its vagaries. Rolan shook his head and focused on the immediate issue, escaping Monte Carlo’s perpetual traffic.
    Hopping into the car, he waited for Tony to slide into the passenger seat. The youth snapped his seat belt into place and sucked in a deep breath as he took in the car. The boy’s eyes darted around the interior, examining every panel, the way the Reverton’s LCD panels lighted and glowed fast changing numbers. “You’re loaded, aren’t you? How much does a car like this cost?”
    “Enough. You and your mother have always been short of money, haven’t you?”
    “Mom says you’re rich if you have someone you love in your life. I have her, and mostly she’s a great mom. She just worries too much.”
    His voice clear, quiet, the wise response set Rolan’s brain racing, and protective possessiveness wrenched his gut. “I asked your mom to marry me, Tony.”
    For a few seconds, their gazes met, the boy’s eyebrows slashed into a V, then one shoulder lifted and he sighed. “I bet she said no. She did, didn’t she?”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “She turned Mr. Taylor down, the head soccer coach. And she won’t go out with anyone, says she only needs one male in her life. Geoff hasn’t asked her yet, but he will, and so will Harry. I can always tell who will. They get this dreamy look, all moony and geeky. I’ll never let a girl do that to me.”
    Jesus. The thought of Sarita married to another man, someone else raising his son, made him shudder. He started the engine and edged the sports car into