Chapter Six
“Hey,” Nico said, striding into Marco’s office without being announced. Nico had been alive three years longer than Marco, but sometimes the impatient and bossy way he acted made it seem like he had a whole decade on his brother.
Marco, however, had no problem putting Nico in his place. He raised his gaze from the paperwork he was signing and rocked back in his chair. “How was Los Angeles?”
Nico sat in front of him. “Good.”
“How’s Zaine doing? I haven’t seen him in a while,” Marco said, mentioning Nico’s buddy from college. These days, Nico juggled business on both coasts, and whenever he visited California, he visited Zaine Cavanaugh and his wife Ashley.
Nico scratched his chin. “Okay. Doesn’t seem like his marriage will hold up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m surprised. They seem like a good match,” Marco said, remembering the way the power couple completed each other.
“You and your matches. By the way, where’s Elizabeth? Haven’t heard much about her lately.”
He shrugged. “I don’t see her anymore.” He didn’t miss Elizabeth one bit. Ever since his return from his business trip a few days prior, whenever he was away from Lily, he’d counted the minutes until they were together again. The image of Lily’s radiant smile flooded his mind, and need drilled through his body. The day before, he’d taken her shopping and provided her with all the best dresses and shoes money could buy. He couldn’t wait to—
“You’re smiling like a fool. Who’s the new lady?” Nico asked.
The one keeping us from getting the garage. “She’s someone I enjoy being around. She’s…not like others.”
“Other women?” Nico drew his eyebrows together.
His brother had never been much of a romantic himself, preferring a string of casual relationships to settling down. He’d even mentioned a couple of times he wanted to get a vasectomy. Marco would brush the subject aside, not really believing his brother would see that plan through.
“Other people. Anyway, there’s something more important I need to tell you. We’ll have to find another garage for the new entertainment district.”
Nico rocked his head back, then threw it forward, sighing. “We’ve already exhausted all the options. The next site for making a garage is a few blocks from most restaurants and places. What’s the holdup? I thought you wanted to talk to the beauty shop owner.”
“I have, and she’s adamant on keeping it.”
“Didn’t the corporate investigator look into her situation? Isn’t she financially strapped?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder if it’s just a matter of time. But I gotta say, we can’t wait long. The investors won’t be happy about it, and some may even back out. Besides, I want to get on Brad Franklin’s good side. I heard he’s been doing a lot of business with Antoine Desmarais.”
“So?”
“So, Desmarais owns that property in Mauritius I’ve been dying to buy since our father sold it.”
Marco threw his hands in the air. When would his brother give up on this ridiculous dream of buying their childhood vacation home? Whatever feeling Nico expected to revive when he entered the place where—according to him—they were happy, it wouldn’t happen. Desmarais, the owner, was extremely reclusive and had been for years. He’d lived in the home full time and had turned down every chance of selling it, despite the high purchase prices his brother had offered. “You need a new obsession, man.”
“Maybe I’ll call Elizabeth now that you’re out of the picture,” Nico said, obviously to tease him. They had better bro code than that.
“Be my guest.”
“Porca miseria, Marco. You can’t be this nonchalant about losing a deal because of a fucking beauty shop. If our father heard you, he’d—”
“What? He’d tell me I’m no good for anything? We’re dealing with someone’s livelihood here, Nico. It’s her choice. She doesn’t want to lose the salon. We can’t make her give up her dream. We’re rich, not mind manipulators.”
Nico squinted his eyes. “I’ll give it more time. Jerry said within weeks she should lose everything. But once that happens, that’s it. We’re taking over, whether we buy it from her or the bank seizes it from her.”
Marco pondered. He had no problem telling his brother about his one-month arrangement. Nico was no saint, and didn’t often judge another’s sexual debauchery. But, if he told him, Nico would criticize his mixing business with pleasure in a way that could alter lives and a huge business deal. Nico would make a big deal out of everything. After the month ended, Marco would tell his brother about the deal and tell him to fuck off. Until then, he planned on enjoying Lily, guilt-free. Worry-free.
…
Hours later, he picked Lily up in front of her salon. They only had an hour or so before they had to endure the nasty traffic to get to the private airfield and take off for Italy and a week of celebrating Nonna’s birthday.
“Are you ready to start your fake fiancée duties?” he asked, picking up her luggage, adamant on reminding her about the role she’d be playing abroad.
“Yes.” She had insisted on meeting him at the salon and not in her apartment because of a client’s appointment for highlights. Her work ethics pleased him. She didn’t see all he could do for her professionally. She still counted every and each client—scattered as they were—as important as luxurious international travel. He doubted she’d done much of that.
He put her bags into the limo, even though his driver would have been happy to do so. When he opened the door for her, she slid inside, and he followed.
“I see the partition has been fixed.”
He groaned. “Come here.”
She sat on his lap, and their bodies molded together as if a skilled artist had created them. Warmth enveloped him, her feminine scent teasing his nostrils. She ran her fingers through his hair, transforming his scalp into a profusion of sensations. He leaned into her touch, enjoying it, afraid he’d gotten too used to having her near.
He slid his hand down her jeans. Ah, he hated when she wore jeans or any other piece of clothing where instant fucking became a difficult task. “I thought I told you not to wear pants.”
She planted small kisses around his mouth, cheeks, and chin. By now, she should know that strategy drove him crazy, making him desperate to have her lips on his. “Yes, and I thought I told you we aren’t living in the fifties anymore.”
He swatted her ass playfully. “Scopa,” he cursed.
She nibbled his nose and adjusted herself on him so she straddled him. “Say that again.”
“You don’t know what I said.”
She chuckled. “Sounds sexy.”
“You know what’s sexy?
She shook her head.
He pulled her head back to really take in her face, her lovely features. He caressed her cheek with his other hand, reveling in the intensity her big green eyes threw at him. “You are…” he said hoarsely, and brought her mouth close to his. “Sexy…and a whole lot of trouble.”
…
“I still can’t believe you didn’t wake me up,” Lily said in the limo that drove them from the airfield in Rome. He’d actually let her sleep the entire flight, when she should have enjoyed all the amenities.
“You seemed tired.”
Sure, the chair converted into a bed, and the fluffy blanket had been a decadent invitation to Snoozeville, but… “I know, but what are the chances of me flying internationally in a private plane again?” Or hell, flying internationally anywhere?
“You still have the return trip to the United States,” he said drily.
“That’s true. I’ll make sure I won’t sleep then.”
Now he sat across from her in the sophisticated vehicle that had been waiting for them. Their surroundings were still foggy, but she kept her eyes glued to the window in case the scenery changed.
“We need to talk,” he said, sounding more stern than usual, for the second time since they’d landed.
“Yeah?” she asked, without looking at him.
“Lily.” He called her with an edge of impatience in his voice.
She regarded him. “What is it?”
How come he still managed to look that hot so early in the morning? She had brushed her teeth and combed her fingers through her hair, but Marco Giordano could easily make the cover of People’s Sexiest Man Alive edition without even trying.
“We need a new name for you while you’re here. I can’t call you Lily to my family. My brother will be present, too, and he’ll be suspicious if I introduce you as my bride and your name is on the deed of the salon we’re trying to buy.”
She pinched her skin at her throat, desperate to fidget away her worry. “What do you mean, trying? We have a deal. There’s no buying.”
“I know. I didn’t want to break the news to my brother, Nico, who’s my partner in this district revitalization. Not just yet.”
“Why not?” she asked, her heart racing. This didn’t sound good. Sure, he had paid off half of her debts—and the other half he’d pay at the end of the month, as agreed. What if Marco changed his mind? What if his brother convinced him that the fiancée facade wasn’t worth the millions of dollars they’d lose from not having that garage?
“Lily, that’s between me and my brother. You don’t have to worry about it. I gave you my word, and we signed a contract.”
“Yes, but as far as I know, you can hire a lawyer with some top legalese bullshit and screw me in the end.”
“That’s not what I promised.”
“Do you always fulfill your promises, Marco?”
He glanced away for a heartbeat, and when his gaze found hers again, she didn’t miss the speck of bitterness in his dark amber eyes. And maybe…regret? “I’ll fulfill this one,” he said. “As I was saying, it’ll be best to call you a different name.”
“Patricia,” she said. When she was a little girl, she always named her dolls Patricia after a kindergarten friend who had been far better off than her. “Sounds like a name of someone with money. Because that’s what the fancy clothes you bought me are about, right? I’m assuming you won’t tell them I’m a hairdresser, either,” she said, proud of herself for not sounding whiny or defensive.
Her insides knotted. She had a lot of pride in her occupation, and in how much her mother had sacrificed to own her salon. However, in a world of wealth such as Marco’s, she was a menial worker who offered services. She wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or a CEO.
“We can say you work with investments. It’s broad enough.”
“Sounds good.” She forced a smile. “Anything else? Maybe some Ivy League university and a fancy fundraising hobby?”
“You don’t have to sound so offended. I’m being practical. Hiding your real identity will be less of a headache for everyone. Including you.”
She sighed. She guessed she didn’t need his seemingly overbearing brother on her ass. Besides, wasn’t this why she had accepted the contract—to pretend to be his fiancée? Don’t get it twisted. Despite the off-the-charts hot sex also included in their month-long agreement, Marco didn’t need her for anything else. Chances were, if he ever married, he’d go with one of those types, someone more like himself.
Finally, the drive became a lot more interesting. She ignored him completely, fascinated by the life unraveling in front of her. The car wound through busy streets, where people walked their dogs and locals drank at the cafés lining the streets. When the scenery became posher, with a handful of luxury storefronts from designer brands she’d only heard about, the car slowed down.
“Are we close to your place?” she asked, imagining his place would be a lot more sophisticated than a simple walk-up apartment. Most likely he owned a swanky loft or luxurious penthouse.
“We’re going to a jewelry store,” he said.
Oh, yeah. The engagement ring. She assumed he’d borrow one, like those celebrities at high-profile red-carpet events, though a man of his means probably didn’t rent anything. Maybe he’d exchange it afterward.
“Do they open this early?”
“I called the manager and asked them to open for me. I thought it’d be more practical to get it out of the way. Besides, there are no paparazzi this early. I’d hate for the news to reach my grandmother before I tell her myself.”
“Sure.”
The driver stopped in front of the store, and as usual, Marco slid out first and helped her out, stretching his hand for her. She could get used to the touch of his manly, strong, tanned fingers on hers. But she shouldn’t—they’d only be together two more weeks, and then they’d go their separate ways.
He touched the small of her back, guiding her through the jewelry store.
A tall brunette with gorgeous cobalt eyes greeted them. She looked like she could rock a catwalk, making Lily feel ridiculously out of place. “Mr. Giordano, what a pleasure. We’ve put aside some engagement rings for you two to look at,” she said in accented English, then nodded at Lily. “I’m Stefania.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Con piacere. Please, have a seat.”
For the next few minutes, she measured her annular finger, and another terrifyingly good-looking woman who could be on the cover of Shape magazine brought a velvet case. When she opened it, Lily’s jaw dropped.
Several rings greeted her—most of them with huge diamond rocks. One of them seemed to be ruby, and a stone whose name she didn’t even know. Marco murmured a couple of words of encouragement for her to try them on, but she felt a thread of panic float up her throat.
When she’d said yes to this whole farce, she hadn’t envisioned the amount of times she’d be lying—to his family and friends, to salespeople and whoever crossed their path. Would she lie to herself, too? Had she?
She glanced down at the exquisite ring that Marco slid on her finger. It weighed heavy on her, and it meant nothing.
“What about this one?” he asked her, nudging her elbow.
She removed the ring from her finger as if it burned her, and put it on the glass table. “I…need some air. I’m sorry,” she said, and surged to her feet. Without looking back, she left the store.
…
Fucking great. “I’ll be right back,” Marco said to the saleswoman, and stood.
Why did Lily run away? Buying jewelry shouldn’t have this effect on her, especially when he’d told her what they were about to do. In fact, she signed a piece of paper, a contract, agreeing to be his temporary fiancée. What had changed?
His heart squeezed, like a grand piano had fallen on him. Like those silly cartoons he and his brother watched when they were kids—their nannies always indulged them with excessive TV time. With a dry throat, he followed her steps, knowing it took him half as many to catch up to Lily outside the shop.
It was too damn late for her to change her mind. Unless she had looked at the ring and gotten some ideas. “You can’t raise the price of our bargain, if that’s what you’re thinking about,” he said, pretty sure she could hear him.
She turned around, the early morning wind playing with the tips of her hair. Her eyes seemed glossy, but she didn’t let a tear roll down her cheek. “It’s all about money for you.”
“This has been about a lot more than money. It has been about making an old lady happy, and you keeping your salon. Is there money involved so those two things can happen? You bet. But they’re happening for other reasons.”
She tilted her head as if pondering on his words. “Then why did you just treat me like a cheap hooker, assuming I’d demand more money for my services?”
He ran his fingers down his face. Because I’m an asshole. “I’m sorry, Lily. I’ve visited a jewelry store once before with the intention of buying a ring for someone,” he said, remembering that day several years ago, when he’d taken Angelica to a store as luxurious as the one they’d just walked from.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were engaged before.”
“It never happened. She called it off before we broke the news,” he said, proud that he’d kept the bitterness out of his voice. “We weren’t a match.”
“And she couldn’t have told you that when she said yes?”
“It’s in the past. It would have been a stupid mistake.” He’d shared things with Angelica he had always feared people would learn about his past. He’d trusted her, and her gentle and sweet way, but after knowing more about the man she’d agreed to marry, she decided to call it off.
Frustration formed a lump in his throat. He’d been fool enough to think he could be with someone like Angelica…uncomplicated and genuine. Or maybe he could have, if only he had kept the most private parts of his past, of his childhood, to himself. No one needed a traumatized child with abandonment issues. Not even him. He’d said goodbye to that part of him a long time ago. He’d never be the kind of husband she needed or deserved.
“Why did you run out?” he asked, to deflect her attention from him. He sucked in his breath, hoping to God she wouldn’t change his mind so late in the game.
“I… I felt strange. I’m sorry if I triggered any bad memories for you.”
“You’re fine. Listen, I understand this is all probably overwhelming to you. What we tell my family about the nature of our relationship is a lie, but I enjoy being with you. That’s real. That’s all I can give you, but it’s still real,” he said. Fuck, he didn’t want her to think he’d do this with anyone else. If he had hired an actress, he certainly wouldn’t screw her.
“Why did your former fiancée break up with you? Did you cheat on her?”
“No cheating.”
She frowned. “What did she find out, then? It’s a big change of heart.”
“She found out I’m not the type who hosts a family Sunday lunch. That I’m one of the reasons my father drinks like there’s no tomorrow. That I’m not husband material if you want the fairy-tale kind of marriage.”
She drew back, her face creasing, probably because she tried to digest all the words he vomited at her.
“What do you mean your father drinks because of you? No one does that.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. She didn’t quit, did she? The last thing he needed was for her to pity him, or to start some psycho-babble about his feelings. She was the woman he was supposed to screw, enjoy, and laugh with. If he turned what they had between them into more than that, he’d regret his decision. “I’m done talking about this subject. Are we doing this or not?” He tilted his head in the direction of the shop’s front door.