Читать книгу The Boss's Fake Fiancée - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

“I LED A very quiet life.”

Even as that statement came out of Lila’s mouth, Mitch remembered her answer when he’d asked if she’d maxed out the company credit cards Riccardo had given her. “Weren’t you a foster child?”

She brushed at her dress, as if trying to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean my life was exciting.”

He knew little about the American foster care system, but he did understand the basics. A child was taken in by a family who was paid by the state to care for him or her. He supposed that left little room for being silly or stupid or even experimental, if you wanted to keep your home. Because if you didn’t keep your home—

The picture that brought to mind tightened his chest. Not wanting to think of Lila as a child on the street, alone and scared, and not wanting to examine his motives for the emptiness that invaded his soul just considering that she might have been alone or scared, he changed the subject.

“How were your grades?”

She grinned. “I was a star.”

He knew that, of course. They’d checked into her when they’d hired her. She’d been top of her class everywhere from elementary school to university.

“Anything I should know about your love life?”

She glanced across the aisle at him, caught his gaze. “No.”

“At least tell me the story of your first date.”

She smoothed her hair off her forehead. “Oh. Well, I guess that depends on what you consider a date. I had a huge crush on my next-door neighbor when I was five.”

He laughed. “Not that far back.”

“Okay. I went to the prom in high school.”

“Seriously? That was your first date?”

She shrugged. “I was busy getting those good grades, remember?”

He sighed. “All right. If we really were engaged, I probably wouldn’t know every corner of your love life. But give me something I can take to Nanna that will convince her we’re...” He paused, grappling for words, because now that he was getting to know her everything felt funny. He’d already pictured himself ravaging her. Her fault. She’d brought it up. But, because he’d already seen it in his head, he couldn’t quite say lovers out loud.

Finally he just sucked it up and said, “To help her believe we’re intimate.”

“Oh, my gosh. Seriously? Did you just say that? You couldn’t say lovers...or that we’re having sex or even knocking boots?” She laughed heartily. “Mitch, you have got to lighten up. You’ll do more to convince your grandmother we’re engaged with your actions than you will remembering a bunch of useless information about my life.”

Irritated with himself for all these weird reactions, he said, “Yeah, I guess.”

She caught his gaze again. But this time the light of humor brightened her pretty eyes. “I know.”

The awkwardness of being so informal with her pressed in on him again, and he had to get rid of it. Since she seemed to like humor so much, he went in that direction and said, “I suppose this means you’re not going to tell me the story of how you lost your virginity.”

She laughed. “No. And I don’t want to hear about yours.”

“Mine’s a great story,” he teased, so relieved that the tension had been broken that he decided to keep her laughing.

“I’ll bet.”

“I was about fifteen. A middle-aged woman came to the winery for a tour—”

“Oh, my God!” She put her hands over her ears. “Stop.”

“All right. I suppose that one isn’t exactly G-rated. Want to hear about Riccardo’s?”

Her eyes widened comically.

But he realized something important. “If we really were engaged, you might not know about our sex lives, but you would know about Riccardo’s and my antics as kids. So what do you say I tell you some of those stories?”

She slowly pulled her hands away from her ears. “Okay. If I were your fiancée for real, I would know those.”

“Exactly.”

He told her about skipping school, climbing trees, swimming in the lake behind his family’s property before the family put in the in-ground pool. He told her about Nanna covering for him and Riccardo a time or two, then using her knowledge for blackmail.

“Your nanna’s a pistol.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Thus the reason for the fake fiancée.”

“Sí.” He paused a second, then said, “So what about you?”

She smiled at him from across the aisle. “What about me?”

“What do I need to know about you to fool my grandmother?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on, I have to tell her something.”

“Nope. I’m a nonentity in this charade. I don’t matter. Just as Riccardo made up stories about our getting together and your proposal, I can be anything you need me to be because two weeks from now I’m out of the picture.”

“But doesn’t it make more sense to use your real life?” He peeked at her. “You know...for authenticity.”

“Then we’d trip over into too many details that wouldn’t fit. Since we didn’t actually start dating.” Her eyes met his. “We never even became friends. It’s easier for us to make up a background that’s more suited to a woman you’d date.”

Though what she’d said made sense, irritation slid through him. Why was she arguing? Evading him?

“That’s just the point. For better or worse you are the woman I chose. So I think it would make more sense if we figured out why I chose you—sticking with the truth—rather than to make up a story that we’d have to remember. Riccardo’s story is that we started talking and became friends.” He smiled his most charming smile. “So let’s become friends.”

She just looked at him. Her pretty gray eyes softened with a sort of sadness. He expected her to argue again, but she said, “I live in a walk-up in Brooklyn. I put myself through university as a barista in a coffee place. I sort of live to work.” She opened her hands. “Honestly, no hobbies. Nothing really interesting about me.”

“You have to have more to your life than that.”

She shook her head. “Unless you want to dip into the foster child stuff—which I don’t—I am as dull as watching paint dry.”

He would have accepted that, except she avoided his eyes and looked away quickly, the way a person does when they are lying or hiding something.

She did live in a walk-up in Brooklyn.

She had put herself through university as a barista.

She’d told him both of those in her employment interview. So if she wasn’t lying she was hiding something.

He knew it for certain when she firmly said, “Okay. Once we get over the initial introductions, I’ll just keep deflecting questions by reminding everybody this is Alonzo and Julia’s weekend. There’s no reason to get fancy about this.”

He nodded, but his gut knotted. Why would she want to keep something from him? What would she want to keep from him? It couldn’t be a criminal record—her record had been clean when he hired her. Which meant she didn’t sell drugs. Or rob banks. Or even have a permit to carry a gun. But maybe she dated losers? Or collected spiders? Or was one of those people who dressed up like a zombie and went to those weird parties—

Maybe he didn’t want to know?

After all, as she’d said, this charade would be over in two weeks. And if he forced the issue, he’d know an ugly detail of her life that he probably shouldn’t know.

When five minutes went by with neither of them saying anything, she pulled out her e-reader.

Trepidation filled him again. She was about to walk into the heart of his family. They would ask her a million questions. Yes, he understood that she could make up answers about their dating and her life, since this whole deal was fake, but—

No buts. She was right. They’d spent a year working together, not getting to know each other. If she had a private life she wanted to keep private, he should just accept that and trust that she could handle this ruse.

He relaxed a bit, settled back in his seat, used the remote to activate the television and nodded off thinking that his assistant had handled every job he’d ever given her. He should trust that whatever she wasn’t telling him it wasn’t relevant to her job—

Except she wanted to leave his employ and she’d never fully explained why.

Damn it! What the hell was up with her?

* * *

The jet landed in Spain a little after one o’clock in the morning, Spain time. The pilot’s announcement woke Lila and she yawned and stretched.

“So much for meeting your family tonight.”

Mitch blew his breath out on a groan that spoke of someone desperately wanting to continue sleeping. “I don’t know how I got so scattered that I forgot about the time difference, but we’ll get to the winery by two. I can show you to your room and you can either go back to sleep or take a shower or something to wake yourself up enough you can adjust to the new time zone.”

She waved her e-reader at him. “Don’t worry about me. I can always entertain myself.”

He smiled tiredly. “Great.”

His unenthusiastic tone sent a little jangle skipping along Lila’s nerve endings. Now that they were on the ground in Spain, near his family, he didn’t seem as convinced about this plan as he had in New York City. And part of that might be her fault. He hadn’t been pleased that she refused to talk about her past. But, really, they’d spent a year together and he’d never once asked her what she’d done over the weekend, let alone chitchatted about her past. So maybe a little part of her had decided to hold back. But she was still right about the ruse. It would be too difficult to explain how a high-powered executive, a charmer with a killer smile and tons of money, would want her. He hadn’t wanted her in a whole year. They were better off to make up an interesting past for her that turned her into a woman who would attract him and keep his interest enough that he’d want to marry her.

They exited the plane and Lila stood by Mitch as they waited for the copilot and limo driver to unload their luggage and pile it into the trunk of a big black car.

Finally finished, the driver opened the back door of the vehicle and greeted Mitch. “Buenas noches.”

Mitch laughed. “Shouldn’t that be buenos días?”

The driver chuckled. “Sí.”

Good day rather than good night.

Lila had to agree with that because it was after midnight, already an hour into the new day, except her body was on New York time. Though she’d had a nap on the plane, a few hours from now when his family was waking, she’d want to go to sleep for real.

Once they were settled on the long, comfortable back seat, Mitch said, “Don’t worry. My family and the entire staff speak English.”

She shrugged. “I toyed around with being a social worker, so I took enough Spanish in college that I’m fluent.”

He frowned. “You thought about being a social worker?”

“Everybody does.” She met his gaze, throwing him a bone with a little personal information since she’d clearly insulted him before when she wouldn’t tell him anything beyond the basics. “Everybody wants to save the world.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Not my family.” He motioned toward the window even though she could see nothing in the dead of night through the darkened glass. “We have a legacy to protect.”

“I think that’s kinda nice. You know—” She lifted one shoulder slightly, trying to be nonchalant, even though she envied him and his casual acceptance of not just having a mom and dad, a brother, a nanna, an aunt and uncle and a cousin, but also a legacy. “A place to belong.”

“Oh, we belong all right. Sometimes I feel like an indentured servant.”

She studied him, confused that he couldn’t see how lucky he was. “Is that why you came to New York?”

“My father released me to more or less follow my dream of setting up a website to sell Ochoa wines online after I caught Alonzo and Julia together. There was no way Dad could have picked sides. Picked one son over the other. Especially since what I’d walked in on was basically Alonzo and Julia’s first kiss. I’d more or less been ignoring her, traveling around Europe, trying to sell wine. So I didn’t have to do a lot of soul-searching to realize I didn’t really love her, and from the way Alonzo protected Julia the next few days, it was clear he did. Allowing me to create and head up Ochoa Online and move it anywhere I wanted, my dad put a positive spin on what could have potentially caused a huge rift in our family.”

“And then you came to New York and you were successful and now it all seems to have had a purpose.”

He tilted his head. “That’s basically how it’s panned out. Except I took it one step further, started the general wine site and headed off in my own direction. Forged my own success. I don’t want this wedding to take the luster off the fact that I stepped away and started my own businesses, any more than I want to have people thinking of me instead of my brother during what should be the happiest time of Alonzo’s life.”

She nodded, totally understanding. But she didn’t want to know too much more or to tell him too much more about herself. That would be a heck of a lot like confiding, a heck of a lot like actually becoming friends, and that was risky to her heart. Not to mention the fact that he might not think highly of a little girl who’d gotten herself sent into foster care and cost her mom a chance to pull herself together and become a good parent.

Worse, while he had told her the stories about himself and Riccardo, she’d pictured him as a devilish little boy and her heartstrings had tugged. So no more confiding. She had to stay strong.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black velvet ring box.

Her gaze leaped to his.

He smiled as he opened it. “Will you marry me?”

He said it casually, but her breath froze in wonderment. She remembered her first day of working with him, how he’d knocked her for a loop with his good looks and charm, remembered how much she loved that he was strong and smart. She thought of all the things that she imagined she would think about if he were asking her to marry him for real. Her heart lodged in her throat and her chest got so tight she could barely breathe, but she reminded herself this wasn’t real. And that falling into this kind of emotional land mine was the very thing she had to avoid.

So she laughed and said, “Sure,” as if her feelings weren’t going in a million directions, and she was able to see the humor in their charade.

He slid the rock on her third finger, left hand, and instantly her hand sank along with her heart. Not only was it the biggest diamond she’d ever seen, but it was the most beautiful ring ever crafted, and it was all a sham.

Determined not to fall into any more emotional traps, she glanced up at him with a smile. “Wow. I hope you didn’t pay for this by the ounce.”

He laughed. “It’s on consignment.”

The reminder that for him this was temporary, just a means to an end, a way to accomplish a goal for his family and himself, fortified her. Especially since she was being rewarded for her part. If she wanted a new job, money to hire a PI to find her mom and ultimately a new life, there could be no more slipups. She had to make this look real. And she could do it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t faked her way through things before. As a child she’d had to pretend to like potatoes or peas or ham so her new foster mom wouldn’t think her too picky, and plenty of times she’d had to pretend to love certain television shows just to fit in. When she left that life, she’d vowed she’d be herself for the rest of her days and never pretend again, but this was for a good cause. Two good causes. Mitch could keep the focus of this wedding on his brother and she would find her mom.

Faking to make it work made perfect sense.

They traveled through a country she couldn’t see for forty minutes, then the limo stopped. When the driver opened the door, she saw the magnificent stone mansion in front of her. Two stories and clearly built centuries ago, the house stood like a sentinel, taking care of its occupants, marking the passage of time with lines and wrinkles pressed into the stone by wind and rain.

As she stepped out of the limo, she said, “It’s fantastic.”

The air felt different. Or maybe the knowledge that she was on a different continent had her sensing that the warm air around them was sweeter, earthier.

“The upstairs contains Nanna and my parents’ residences. Winery is in the basement beside a restaurant. First floor holds business offices, tour information and gift shop.”

Well, there went all the romance out of that.

“Oh.”

“Don’t pout.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to the right. “We have an apartment in the second building down.”

His voice had dipped low, as if he really was talking to a girlfriend. The place where his hands rested on her shoulders felt like it was on fire. A shower of tingles rained down her spine.

More nervous than she’d ever imagined she could be, she turned, hoping to get out from under his warm fingers. “And the first building is?”

“Alonzo and Julia’s home. He runs the winery. It’s only fitting he has a house.” He smiled casually. “I’m just a guest now.”

Had she heard a little sadness in that? A dollop of emotion?

She studied his dark, dark eyes. There was no hurt in the black orbs. No rancor. He did not begrudge his brother his success. But there also didn’t seem to be an attachment to this wonderful home—this legacy—that she would give half her heart and most of her soul to be a part of.

She broke the connection and turned toward the two newer buildings. Her nerves eased a bit. The last thing she wanted was to find herself in the same house with his relatives. This way she had private space.

Mitch put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the second building. In the muted glow of small lamps to light the path, she could see lush green grass that created comfortable lawns, but little else.

Vaguely aware that the driver pulled their things from the back of the limo, she allowed Mitch to lead her up the cobblestone path to a front door and into a quiet foyer with a set of stairs to the second floor. He nodded for her to climb them.

As they walked up the thin stairway, she realized his eyes were about level with her butt. That might have made her nervous, except she remembered the casual way he’d given her the ring and knew she had nothing to worry about. When they reached the second floor, he pulled keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door and gave it a nudge to open it. He granted her entry first, then flipped on a light.