Chapter Eight
Lily slipped into the deep fuchsia cocktail dress. Because of the decadent color, the outfit didn’t have any embellishments other than the soft, high-quality fabric. In fact, it was even conservative, with knee-length hem and a modest cut above her chest. She preferred it that way.
She applied makeup, choosing some dark shadow to enhance her eyes and a nude-colored lipstick. Her hair was up in a topknot. Where the hell was Marco? After they’d checked into their room, he did some business stuff while she surfed online. He’d been occupied with work, and she unpacked for the six days they were to stay, busying herself for most of the afternoon. An hour ago, he’d told her he needed to talk to his grandmother quickly, to tell her the news of the engagement himself.
Lily imagined he wanted privacy to catch up with his grandma before introducing her, and she respected that. She skimmed their enormous room, figuring not even honeymooners ever got such nice accommodations. The immense bed was raised, pinned by four posters, and adorned with sheer drapes that floated in the light breeze. They hadn’t had time to make love, but she yearned for him to take her in that giant bed. Take her in the dirtiest way… Images of him thrusting into her ass populated her mind, and little thrills of anticipation tingled her insides, hardening her breasts.
She cleared her throat, yanking herself from a fantasy she was sure he’d turn into reality.
From the minute they’d arrived in Bellagio, she’d noticed the tension in the taut muscles stretching his shirt. He had to have a good reason to avoid seeing his grandmother all those years—if he didn’t care for her, why come up with a fake engagement to give her something to smile about? Her stomach knotted. None of this was her business. Yet…
She slipped her feet into the nude Louboutin shoes and straightened her shoulders. Asking him to give her anything other than what he’d promised—hot sex—was dangerous. Determined to stop those furtive thoughts, she left the room. Surely, he’d meet her later.
Other than Marie, she hadn’t met any of his family members or his grandmother yet. Anxiety cooled her skin with every step she took down the stairs. Once again, she found herself admiring those huge paintings, with pictures of what she imagined were former generations. The house had luxury, but an old-world quaintness also had its stamp on the furniture and accents. She stepped onto the distressed wood flooring at last, and this time quite a few people occupied the opulent living room, which was enormous, with double doors that opened to a terrace overlooking Lake Como.
“Miss?”
An impeccably uniformed waiter offered her some champagne. She picked a glass from the tray, thanking him quietly, then took the flute to her mouth and drank the entire contents in one gulp. By the time she set it on a nearby table, her limbs had loosened, and a delicious bubbly sensation overpowered her head, leaving her dizzy and relaxed. If everything else failed, drinking would be the best way to get through the next few days of pretending to be someone she was not.
A tall, red-haired woman in her forties walked up to her. She spoke Italian.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” Lily replied in English.
The woman smiled. “I said your dress is pretty. Who made it?”
She should have spent more time fumbling over the tag. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s a spur of the moment purchase I made when I was in Bloomingdale’s last week.”
“I quite understand. I’m Arietta,” she said, pronouncing her name with a sexy musicality Lily envied.
“Pretty name. I’m Lily, nice to meet you.”
Arietta lifted her champagne flute. “Pleasure. I’m sorry for prying, but I haven’t seen you in any of Nonna’s previous parties. I would certainly have remembered.”
“Yes. I haven’t been in any of her parties. Haven’t met her yet, actually. My fiancé brought me here.”
Arietta’s eyes gleamed, and she leaned closer, visibly interested. “How adorable. And who would that be?”
“Marco.”
Arietta’s expression froze for a moment, as if she was legit shocked about the news. Quickly, she blinked and recovered. “I didn’t even know he was engaged.”
“It happened quickly, but when you know, you know.” That’s what people said, anyway. The only thing Lily knew, or hoped, was that Marco wouldn’t shun her for introducing herself before he’d had the chance to. Relax, her inner voice whispered. They had a fake story in place for a reason…for opportunities like this. Besides, she was being handsomely rewarded to be his fake fiancée. Which meant she should act like one at all times.
“What I know is, I can’t wait to learn more about you, Lily,” the lady said, bringing her arm to her.
Oh, shit. She’d given Arietta her real name! “Actually, my name is Patricia. I’m sorry. Lily is my middle name, and I use it sometimes as a pseudonym. I go by Patricia with my friends and family.”
“Patricia Lily. What a cute combination.”
“Actually, just Patricia please. Let’s forget about Lily,” she said, forcing a smile. She was so screwed. If Marco found out, he’d be less than thrilled. Apprehension pressed hard in her gut, and bile rose at the back of her throat. Crap. Crap.
“Sure. Well, you said you have a pseudonym. Are you an artist?”
Lily clasped her hands together, eager to ease the cold sweat breaking out on her palms. She sooo sucked at lying. “Unknown artist. I work with numbers…investments… In my free time I love to sculpt. I haven’t found someone to represent me. It’s more like a hobby,” she added, unsure if she should shut up or keep going at this point. She had taken sculpting classes before she had to give them up due to the high cost. Those classes had been more of a stress relief when her father began to get sick.
“You don’t say. That’s terrific,” Arietta said, tucking her arm into Lily’s as if they were old friends strolling down memory lane. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you around. You’re such a treasure, I wouldn’t dare keep you to myself.”
“I—I should go find Marco.” Lily was desperate to regain a shred of control. Was the woman being condescending, or did she genuinely like her and want to share the novelty of Marco’s engagement with others?
“Nonsense. He’ll find us. Have you met his father yet?”
Lily cleared her throat. Things were getting out of control fast. “Father? No, I haven’t met his parents.”
“Parents?” Arietta frowned. “You don’t know?”
“What?” The third faux pas in five minutes? Cold sweat broke on her palms, and she used her free hand to smooth it on her dress. “What is it?”
Arietta’s face softened. “His mother died when he was a child.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks burned. In reality, as a fiancée she should have known such basic information about his parents. If only the man weren’t so freaking mysterious. “That’s right. He…could have mentioned it before. How did it happen? I don’t think I recall.”
“She killed herself,” Arietta said.
Lily’s stomach sank to the floor. Her mouth fell open, and she touched her lips, but no sound came out. A wave of shock washed over, and slowly she managed to straighten her shoulders and recompose herself. She’d need a much stiffer drink than champagne to get through the rest of the evening.
…
Where in the hell was she? Marco strode through the crowd, but at each step a family member spotted him, slowing him down.
He didn’t want to be a jerk, but the evening couldn’t have been more complicated. He had gone to talk to his grandmother to deliver the news himself, before everyone noticing Lily’s ring at the party.
Then, once he returned to the room, resolute to show off his tempting fake fiancée, she’d disappeared. When he went downstairs, he surveyed the interior, and a swish of pink caught his attention. Lily stood amongst a lively group made up of his gossip-extraordinaire cousin Arietta and a couple of other people he didn’t recognize, other than… His heart skipped a beat. His father.
Why had they invited Calogero for a weeklong celebration? His blood thrummed so hard in his veins, everyone’s voices fell into the background for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he was more pissed off at seeing Calogero after so many years, or finding him next to Lily, who seemed so comfortable.
“Patricia,” he called to her.
She didn’t answer, instead listening to what Arietta was telling her.
Of course. She wasn’t used to being called that way. He walked around and slid behind her, nudging her elbow with the intimacy of a longtime lover. “Tesoro,” he whispered.
She shivered and turned her head to him. “Marco.”
“Marco. We’ve been talking about you,” Arietta said, with her trademark half smile. “It’s been so long.” She kissed him on both cheeks, Italian style.
“Time has been good to you, Arietta,” he said. He nodded to the other two men in the group, assuming they were friends of his younger cousins.
“Marco,” his father finally said. One of the reasons Marco despised seeing his father, besides the reason he’d shoved into a vault long ago, was that the man looked like a sixty-something version of himself. This time, a more generous amount of gray blended with what was left of Calogero’s brown hair. More creases gathered around his expressive dark eyes, a testimony of time. “We’ve been talking to this charming young woman who claims to be your fiancée.”
“That’s correct,” he said, and held Lily from behind. His hands pressed her waist. Inwardly, he was grateful it gave his fidgety fingers something to do.
“Well, congratulations are in order,” his father said, and Arietta nodded. “Have you seen your grandmother yet?”
“I just did. She can’t wait to meet Patricia.”
Lily smiled. “The feeling is mutual.”
“Now, if you all excuse me, I need a few minutes alone with my fiancée,” he said.
Before anyone could respond, he took her hand in his and guided her to the terrace. The view was arresting, but there were still a few couples talking and gathering. He needed more privacy.
“What’s going on?” she asked him.
He squeezed her hand and picked up the pace, leading her down the stairs to a tree-filled garden. When he’d been little, he played with his cousins in the yard, running and laughing, hiding and seeking. The few happy memories he had of his childhood popped into his mind, but he shook his head. He needed to think clearly, not to reminisce.
He guided her through the bushes until the buzz and music from the party decreased. The full moon illuminated Lily enough for him to see the outline of her face and lips. “What were you thinking?”
She threw her shoulders back, hands perched at her waist. “Excuse me?” The attitude in her voice annoyed him.
He gritted his teeth. “I asked you to wait for me.”
“I’m sorry, but you were taking forever, and the party had already started an hour before I joined,” she said. “I imagined you were busy with your grandmother. You told me you’d say hello to her, and when I left our room, you’d been gone for an hour. I came here to act as your fiancée, not to be treated like a Christmas ornament you only look at when you have to use it.”
“Maybe I should have hired an actress instead, or someone who would follow my direction,” he said. He paced in a small circle, crunching dry leaves under his heel.
“Sure, she would, as long as you didn’t forget to tell her some critical information. Such as the fact your mother is deceased. That would have come in handy tonight.”
He came to a halt, a chill snaking down his spine. “What?” The subject of his mother, his grandmother’s daughter, was always delicate, and his family skirted around it, avoiding it as much as possible. He appreciated the silence as an adult, even if as a child he wished he’d had someone explain to him what was happening.
She angled closer to him, her expression softening. “How do you expect me to play my role if you won’t let me in?”
“We talked about—”
“We talked about me, and our fake alternative world, but we never talked about you. I saw how you acted around your father. I’m not asking you to tell me anything I can use against you, but I need some pointers.”
Who was she kidding? She could use anything against him if she needed. “That’s why we have a confidential agreement.”
“Exactly. You don’t trust me,” she said, her voice breaking. An emotion he didn’t understand flickered in her huge green eyes, making him feel smaller than a grain of dirt. “I should go home. This doesn’t feel real to me, even as fake as it is. You don’t need me—you have your huge ego and secrets to keep you company.”
She turned to go, but he clasped her elbow and pulled her to him. She lifted her chin, questioning his actions. Damn it, so did he. His gut tightened at the idea of her walking out of his life, of her denying him, of her leaving him. He’d dealt with his mother leaving him because of her illness, then Angelica because of the darkness in his heart. He swallowed. He wasn’t done with Lily Jenkins.
“I need you,” he said, before he dipped his head and crushed her mouth with his. She fought him for a moment, biting his lips, but soon, she fought him in a completely different way, adding so much passion to the kiss he almost fell backward. “Lily, I need you now,” he said gruffly, terrified of how much he meant it.