Книга - The Fiancée Charade

The Fiancée Charade
Fiona Brand


When billionaire Gabriel Messena sees that former fling Gemma O’Neill might be settling down with another man, he knows he has to act fast.He wants her, and he’ll use any excuse to get her back. Luckily, he needs a fiancée to regain control of his family’s business, and he wants Gemma for the part… For Gemma, being back in Gabriel’s bed is amazing, but once he finds out what she’s kept from him, how long can the honeymoon last?










“No Messena bride would wear anything but these jewels.”

“There must be something smaller, cheaper in the box—”

“If there was, no Messena bride would wear it,” he repeated.

The words Messena bride sent a small thrill through her. “I’m not a bride—not even close.”

“And that’s not even close to an excuse.” Picking up her left hand, Gabriel slipped the ring on the third finger.

She blinked, unexpectedly emotional, because the ring, this scene, was something she had never dared dream about. Yet here she was, and Gabriel had just placed the most beautiful engagement ring she had ever seen on her finger. It should have meant fidelity and undying love—instead it was all a charade.




About the Author


FIONA BRAND lives in the sunny Bay of Islands, New Zealand. Now that both her sons are grown, she continues to love writing books and gardening. After a life-changing time in which she met Christ, she has undertaken study for a bachelor of theology and has become a member of The Order of St. Luke, Christ’s healing ministry.




The Fiancée Charade

Fiona Brand







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Once again huge thanks to my editor, Stacy Boyd.

To the Lord, who helps and supports me in all things—especially writing. Thank you.


Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

—Matthew 11: 28, 29




One


Zane Atraeus Dates Good-time Girl….

The tabloid headline halted billionaire banker and entrepreneur Gabriel Messena in his tracks.

A subtle tension gripped him as he paid the attendant at the Auckland International Airport newsstand and flipped the scandal sheet open to verify just which good-time girl, exactly, his wild cousin Zane Atraeus had been dating this time.

His gaze was drawn to the color photo that went with the story. Every muscle in his body tightened as he studied familiar Titian hair, creamy skin and dark eyes; a long, sensually curved body that possessed the engaging grace of a dancer.

Not just any woman, Gabriel thought with a bleak sense of inevitability as he studied the cheerful glint of Gemma O’Neill’s gaze. Once again, Zane was dating his woman.

Emotion, sharp and clarifying, clenched his stomach muscles and banded his chest. When he had first discovered that Zane was dating Gemma, he had checked out the situation and had been satisfied that the dating was on a strictly business level. Although, according to the tabloid, at some point that had changed.

The attraction Zane felt for Gemma was a no-brainer. She was gorgeous and smart, with an impulsive nature and a fascinating bluntness that had captivated Gabriel when she had worked on the Messena estate as a gardener. Although, he couldn’t understand what drew Gemma, who had never seemed to be the A-list party-girl type, to his younger, wilder cousin.

Jaw taut, he examined the fierce sense of possession that gripped him, the powerful desire to claim Gemma as his own, despite the fact that he hadn’t seen her in almost six years. His growing fury that Zane, who had women lining up—and, apparently, enough time in his schedule to date them all—just couldn’t seem to leave his former personal assistant alone.

Damn, he thought mildly. He had no problem identifying the emotion that held him in thrall, destroying his normal clarity. He was jealous of Zane: searingly, primitively jealous.

It was an emotion that made no sense given the length of time that had passed and the fact that what he and Gemma had shared had been nothing more than a steamy encounter that had spanned a few incandescent hours.

Hours that were still etched in his memory because they were literally the last fling of his carefree youth. Two days later his father had been killed in a car accident along with his mistress, the beautiful Katherine Lyon, a woman who had also happened to be the family housekeeper.

Amidst the grief and the scandal, the responsibility of managing the family bank, his volatile family and the media had descended on Gabriel’s shoulders like a lead weight. Any idea that he should echo his father’s disastrous mistake by continuing a liaison with an employee, no matter how attractive, had been shelved.

Until now.

Frowning at the sudden sharp desire to pick up the threads of a relationship that had its basis in the same kind of obsessive fatal attraction that had brought his father to ruin, Gabriel refolded the paper.

Strolling to the first-class counter, he checked his luggage and handed his passport to the attendant. While he waited for his boarding pass, he glanced again at the sketchy article, which also chronicled a number of Zane’s fiery liaisons. Affairs that Zane had apparently been conducting with other women while he had kept Gemma on the back burner.

Intense irritation gripped him at the idea that Gemma had clearly thrown away her pride and reputation in favor of pursuing Zane. That she would allow herself to be treated as some kind of standby date. It just didn’t gel with the strong streak of independence that had always been such an attractive part of her personality.

His gaze snagged on a phrase that made every muscle lock tight. Suddenly, the anomaly in Gemma’s behavior was crystal-clear.

She was no longer strictly single. At some point in the past couple of years, she’d had a child. Presumably, Zane’s child.

Taking a measured breath, Gabriel forced the humming tension from his muscles, although there was nothing he could do about the slam of his heart, or the curious hollow feeling as he grappled with the information.

Too late to wish that he had listened to what the tabloids had been blaring for almost two years. That at some point, Zane had decided that having Gemma as his PA had not been enough, that he had installed her in his bed, as well.

He jerked at his dark blue silk tie, needing air. He needed to refocus, to reassert the control he’d worked so hard to instill in himself in place of the hot-blooded, passionate streak that was the bane of all Messena men. But something about the sheer intimacy of Gemma bearing a child cut deep. The fact that the child belonged to Zane, his own cousin, rubbed salt in the wound.

It was an intimacy that Gabriel, at age thirty, hadn’t had time for in his life, and which was not in his foreseeable future.

But Zane, with all the irresponsibility of youth, had experienced that intimacy. And now, evidently, he no longer wanted the woman whom he had bound to him with a child.

But Gabriel did.

The thought dropped through the turmoil of his emotions like a stone dropping through cool, clear water.

Six years had passed. But in that moment the stretch of time barely registered. He felt like a sleeper waking up, all of his senses—the emotions he’d walked away from the night his father had died—flaring to intense, heated life.

He studied the photograph again, this time noting the way Gemma clung to Zane’s arm, the relaxed intimacy of the pose.

A hot jolt of fury cleared away any reservations he might have had about claiming the woman he had walked away from in order to preserve his family and business.

Gemma had had a child. A baby.

Logic didn’t alter his sense of disorientation, the disbelief that the pressures of business and his high-maintenance family had somehow blinded him and he had missed something … important.

Although the fact that he hadn’t registered changes in Gemma’s life shouldn’t surprise him. Running an empire encumbered by an aging trustee who Gabriel now believed to be suffering from the early stages of dementia, in theory he didn’t have time to sleep.

And he almost never had time for personal relationships. When he dated it was invariably for business or charity functions. The fact that he went home to an empty apartment every night he wasn’t traveling hadn’t bothered him.

Until now.

Taking his boarding pass with automatic thanks, he strolled through the busy airport, barely noticing the travelers jostling around him. In the midst of a crowd, it was an odd time to feel alone. An even odder time to examine the stark truth, that despite the constant demands on his time, his own personal life was as sterile and empty as a desert.

But that was about to change. He was on his way to the Mediterranean island of Medinos, the ancestral home of the Messena family. And the place where Gemma just happened to presently reside.

If he had a mystical streak, he would be tempted to say that the coincidence that he and Gemma would finally be together at the same location was kismet. But mysticism had never figured in the Messena psyche. Aside from the passionate streak, Messena men had another well-defined trait that went clear back to the Crusades. Ruthless and tactical, fighting for the Couer de Lion, Richard the Lionheart, they had flourished in battle, winning lands and fortresses. The habit of winning had been passed down a family line rich in sons, culminating in large holdings of land and enormous wealth.

Plundering was no longer in vogue. These days, Messena men usually leveraged what they wanted across boardroom tables, but the basic principle was still the same. Identify the objective, execute a plan, obtain the prize.

In this case the plan was simple: remove Gemma from Zane’s clutches and install her back in his bed.

“Gabriel Messena … engaged before the month was out …”

The snatch of conversation flowing in off the sun-washed terrace of one of the Atraeus Resort’s most luxurious suites stopped Gemma O’Neill in her tracks.

Her grip tightened on the tea tray she was carrying as fragments of the past surfaced like pieces of flotsam, taking her places that for six years she had refused to go, making her feel emotions she was usually very successful at avoiding.

A still bay, a clear midnight sky, studded with stars and pierced by a sickle moon. Gabriel Messena, his long, muscular body entwined with hers; hair dark as night, the cut of his cheekbones spare and faintly exotic, reminding her of crowded souks and the inky shadowed alcoves of Moorish palaces …

With an effort of will Gemma blinked away the too-vivid image, which was probably a result of being on Medinos, the kind of romantic destination that attracted newlyweds in droves.

Now, rattled instead of being simply on edge as she’d been before, she brought the trolley to a halt beside the dining table. The clatter attracted the attention of the two guests she had been tasked with settling in. They were VIPs in the most important sense of the word on Medinos, because they were close connections of the Atraeus family.

Although, in terms of Gemma’s past, one of the guests was much more than that, even if Luisa Messena, Gabriel’s mother, didn’t seem to have a clue that the person serving afternoon tea and petit-fours was one of her ex-gardeners.

And her son’s ex-lover.

Pasting a professional smile on her mouth, Gemma apologized, all the while keeping her face averted in the hope that she could hang on to her anonymity.

With crisp movements, she snapped a damask cloth open, settled it on the glossy little table then began the precision task of aligning plates and napkins. As she offloaded a carved silver teapot that was probably worth more than the car she needed to buy but as a single mother just couldn’t afford, she fiercely wished she hadn’t offered to give the hotel staff a hand with the influx of VIP guests.

“He’s certainly waited for her long enough … she’s perfect…. The family’s wealthy, of course….”

Despite the fact that she was doing her level best not to listen, because as far as she was concerned Gabriel Messena was old history, Gemma’s jaw locked on a surge of annoyance. Clearly Gabriel was on the point of proposing to some perfect preselected creature, probably a beautiful debutante who had been groomed and educated within an inch of her life and who was now finally ready for the wedding nuptials.

She ripped the tab off a bottle of chilled sparkling mineral water and tossed it in the little trash can on the bottom shelf of her trolley. A tinkling sound indicated that the tab had bounced off the side of the trash can and rolled onto the floor. Retrieving the tab, she placed it in the trash can with careful precision and poured mineral water into two glasses. Her jaw tightened as some sloshed over the side and soaked into her trolley cloth.

The knowledge that Gabriel was finally getting around to marriage after years of bachelorhood in the hushed stratosphere of enormous wealth in which he moved shouldn’t have impacted her. She was happy for Gabriel. Perfectly, sublimely happy. She would have to remember to send him a congratulatory card.

She could do that, because she had moved on.

The conversation out on the terrace had segued from Gabriel to the more innocuous topic of shopping, which was a relief. Gemma guessed she couldn’t hope to feel a complete absence of emotion about Gabriel, because as a teenager, he had been her focus; the man of her dreams. She had fallen in puppy love with him, and had mooned after him for years. Unfortunately she had been wasting her time because she hadn’t had either the wealth or the family connections to be a viable part of his world.

One night, Gabriel had quenched the flare of passion that had bound them together as systematically as she imagined he would have vetoed an investment that lacked the required substance. He’d been polite, but he had made it clear they didn’t have a future. He hadn’t elaborated in any detail; he hadn’t needed to. After the scandal that had hit the papers shortly after the one night they had spent together, Gemma had understood exactly why he had dropped her like the proverbial hot potato.

His father’s affair with the family housekeeper had shaken the very foundations of the family banking business, which was based on wealthy clientele who were old-school and conservative. Gabriel had been in damage control mode. He hadn’t wanted to inflame the scandal and undermine confidence in the bank any further by risking having his liaison with the gardener exposed to tabloid scrutiny.

Despite her heartache, Gemma had tried to see things from his perspective, to understand the battle he had faced. But the rejection, the knowledge that she had not been good enough to have a real, public relationship with Gabriel, had hurt in a way that had struck deep.

As soon as Gabriel had left after the short, awkward interview in which she had managed to remain superficially upbeat, she resolved to never look back or to even remember. It had been the emotional equivalent of sticking her head in the sand, but over the past six years, the tactic had worked.

Gemma took extra care transferring the bone china from the trolley to the table. Even so, an exquisitely delicate cup overturned on its saucer and a silver teaspoon that had been balanced on the saucer skidded off and hit a pretty bread and butter plate with a sharp ping.

She could feel the subtle tension and displeasure at the noise she was making. Her jaw set a fraction tighter. She had worked for the Atraeus Group for some years and normally didn’t mind in the least helping out with any task that needed doing. The Atraeus family had given her a job when she desperately needed one, and they had treated her very well, but suddenly she was acutely aware of her role as a servant.

She dumped a glistening silver milk jug and sugar bowl down next to the teapot and swiped at an errant droplet of milk that marred the once pristine tablecloth.

Not that she had an issue with doing a good job, but it was a fact that she wasn’t waitstaff. Just like she was no longer the gardener’s daughter on the Messena estate.

She was a highly organized and well-qualified PA with a degree in performing arts on the side, and she was still trying to come to grips with the fact that by some errant trick of fate, she had ended up once more in the role of employee to a Messena.

Serene and perfectly groomed, Luisa looked exactly as she had when Gemma had last seen her in Dolphin Bay, New Zealand. The friend accompanying her, though casually dressed, looked just as wealthy and well-groomed; her dark hair smooth, nails perfect. Unlike Gemma’s hair, which she’d been too tired after a near-sleepless night on the phone to New Zealand to do anything with except to coil the heavy waves into a knot.

As she placed the crowning glory of the afternoon tea setting, an exquisite three-tiered plate of tiny cakes, scones, pastries and mini sandwiches, in the center of the table, she caught a glimpse of herself in a wall mirror.

She wasn’t surprised that Luisa hadn’t recognized her. The housemaid’s smock she was wearing was at least a size too large and an unflattering pale blue, which leached all the color from her skin. With her hair pulled back into a severe knot, she didn’t look either pretty or stylish.

Definitely not the gorgeous hothouse flower who by all accounts had been reserved for marriage to Gabriel, despite the fact that Gemma had borne his child.

The thought was overdramatic and innapropriate, and she regretted it the moment it was out.

She had cut her losses years ago, and from the snatches of conversation, Gabriel was practically engaged. If that was the case, then she was certain the manner in which he had selected his future bride had been as considered and measured as the way he managed the multibillion-dollar family business.

What had happened between her and Gabriel had been crazy and completely wrong for them both, a combination of moonlight and champagne, and a moment of chivalry when Gabriel had saved her from the groping of a too-amorous date.

By the time she had realized three months later, despite a couple of skimpy periods, that she was in fact pregnant, the decision to not tell Gabriel had been a no-brainer.

From the brief conversation that had taken place when Gabriel had told her he wasn’t interested in a relationship, she had known that while he had been prepared to look after her and a baby if she had gotten pregnant, all he would have been doing was fulfilling an obligation. On that basis alone, she had chosen to take full responsibility for Sanchia. But there had been another driving force to staying silent about the baby.

Bearing a Messena child would have entailed links from which she would never have been free. She would have remained a beneficiary of Gabriel’s family for the rest of her life, forever aware that she was the employee Gabriel Messena had made the mistake of getting pregnant but who hadn’t been good enough to marry.

In the quiet solitude of her pregnancy, with the hurt of Gabriel’s defection fading, Gemma had made the decision that in order to avoid more heartache, Sanchia would be hers and hers alone. Keeping her daughter’s existence a secret had just seemed easier and simpler.

She straightened a cake fork. She guessed the part that made her hot under the collar about Gabriel’s pending engagement was the idea that he had been waiting for his bride to become available. If that was the case, it meant that Gemma had never been anything more than a diversion, a fill-in, while he waited for the kind of wife he really wanted.

More memories cascaded, distracting her completely from her final check of the table setting.

The pressure of Gabriel’s mouth on hers, the way his fingers had threaded in her hair …

Another pang of annoyance that Gabriel had given up on them so easily, that he was shallow and superficial enough to select a wife rather than fall passionately in love, started a sharp little throb at her temples. She wheeled the trolley with a little more force than was necessary to the door, clipping the side of a sofa in the process.

Luisa Messena, who was just walking in off the terrace, threw her a puzzled look, a frown pleating her brow, as if she was trying to remember where she had seen her last.

Bleakly, Gemma parked the trolley by the door and hoped Luisa didn’t recall that it was the summer six years ago when she had thrown caution and every rule she’d lived by for years to the winds, and slept with Luisa’s extremely wealthy son.

Jaw taut, in a blatant disregard for etiquette, Gemma didn’t offer to pour the tea. Smiling blankly in the general direction of Luisa, she opened the door and pushed the trolley out into the hall.

Closing the door behind her, she drew a deep breath and wheeled the trolley toward the service elevator at the other end of the corridor, stopping short when her cell chimed.

Worry at the recognizable ringtone clutched at Gemma.

Checking that she wouldn’t be overheard, she lifted the phone to her ear. Instantly, the too-serious voice of her five-year-old daughter filled her ears.

The conversation was punctuated by a regular squeak-squeak sound, which instantly translated an image of Sanchia clutching an old bedtime toy, a fluffy puppy with a squeezy sound in its tummy.

Gemma frowned, hating the distance between them when all she wanted to do was hug her close. Sanchia had clung to the toy as a baby, but these days she only ever picked it up if she was overtired or stressed.

Always precocious and older than her years, Sanchia had a familiar list of demands. She wanted to know where Gemma was and what she was doing, when she was coming to get her, exactly, and if she was bringing her a present.

There was a brief pause, then Sanchia’s voice firmed as if she had finally reached the whole point of the conversation.

“And when are you bringing home the dad?”




Two


Gemma’s heart sank. She had suspected that her daughter had overheard the discussion she’d had with Gemma’s younger sister, Lauren, which had been half frivolous, half desperate. Now she had her proof.

The reference to “the dad” was heart-rending enough, as if obtaining a husband, and father for Sanchia, was as straightforward as shopping for shoes or a handbag.

Needing privacy even more now, Gemma walked down a short side hall while she tried to figure out what to say next.

Normally, she was composed, focused and highly organized. As a working single mother she’d had to be.

Although, lately, ever since disaster had struck in the form of a nanny who had left her daughter locked in the car while she gambled at a Sydney casino, Gemma’s focus had undergone a quantum shift. A passerby had seen Sanchia and had called the police. Gemma had managed to explain her way out of the situation, but it hadn’t helped that in the same week Gemma had also gotten caught up in a media scandal, courtesy of her connection with her ex-boss, Zane Atraeus.

To add insult to injury, when Gemma had dismissed the nanny, the woman had then turned around and sold a story to the papers claiming that Gemma was an unfit mother. The story, a collection of twisted truths and outright lies, hadn’t exactly been front-page news, but because she had once worked for Zane, the gutter press had locked on to the story and run with it until another more juicy scandal had grabbed their attention.

Thankfully, the media attention had died, but the pressure from both Australian and New Zealand child welfare agencies hadn’t, despite a number of interviews.

When she had tried to leave Australia with Sanchia for Medinos and her new job, the situation had taken a frightening turn. She had been accused of trying to escape before the welfare case was concluded and both she and Sanchia had been detained. Her mother had flown to Sydney to provide a stopgap answer by taking temporary custody of Sanchia and taking her home to New Zealand. But, to complicate matters, shockingly, her mother, who did not enjoy good health, had then had a heart attack and now required a bypass operation.

In the interim Sanchia had been fostered out, which had utterly terrified Gemma. She had barely been able to sleep, let alone eat. She had been desperately afraid that once the authorities had Sanchia in their grasp, she would never get her back, that no matter how much evidence she supplied to prove that she was a good mother, she would lose her baby girl.

Luckily, Lauren, who had a houseful of kids, had managed to convince the welfare caseworker to release Sanchia into her care until Gemma could get back into the country. Although Lauren had stressed to Gemma that it was a one-off favor and the situation couldn’t go on for too long. With four children of her own, she was ultrabusy and on a shoestring budget.

Gemma had broken into her savings and transferred a chunk of money to Lauren, but there was no getting past the fact that she was out of luck, and almost out of time.

After all of these years of struggling as a solo parent, she was on the verge of losing her baby. She now had one imperative, and one only: to convince the welfare agency that she was a suitable mother for Sanchia. After racking her brains for days, she kept coming back to a desperate but foolproof solution. If she could establish that she was in a relationship with a view to marriage, that would instantly provide the stability they wanted.

Her only believable hope for marriage was her ex-boss, who she had dated for the past couple of years. Despite being a bachelor with a wild reputation, Zane fulfilled a lot of the qualities on her personal wish list for a husband. He was gorgeous, honorable and likable, and most of all, he loved kids. She had often thought that when she was ready to fall in love again, it should be with Zane.

He also happened to be the man whom the tabloids had claimed she’d had a series of on-again, off-again affairs with. It wasn’t true; so far they really were just friends, but it was also a fact that whenever Zane had needed a date for a business or charity function, he had consistently come back to her.

For a man who was as wary of intimacy as Zane, that was significant. Gemma had poked and prodded at the issue until she was tired of thinking about it. In the end she had decided that if Zane really did nurture a secret passion then he was obviously waiting for a sign from her, or a situation, that would allow him to declare his feelings.

If they got engaged, in one stroke the untrue claims of both the nanny and the tabloids would be discredited. The “notorious affair” would instantly morph into a relationship and the notoriety that had been attached to Gemma would be discredited because it was a well-known fact that the tabloids sensationalized everything. The fact that Zane was currently here, on Medinos, had set the plan in concrete.

The only aspect that worried Gemma was that Zane was Gabriel’s cousin. If she married Zane, that would put Sanchia into Gabriel’s orbit.

The silence on the other end of the phone line was punctuated by another squeak, squeak. “I heard you say to Aunty Lauren you’ve got someone in mind.”

The verbatim piece of conversation made Gemma frown. Smoothly ignoring Sanchia’s insistence, she changed the subject and asked her about her cousins.

“The wallflower lady came to visit us today—”

The welfare lady. Gemma’s heart pounded at the cutoff statement, the brief rustling sound as if someone else had taken the phone. A split second later, her sister came on the line.

“Gemma? It’s okay, it was just a routine visit. She wanted to check your arrival date and luckily you had sent me your flight details, so I gave them to her.”

Gemma could feel her anxiety level rising. “They didn’t need to bother you. I emailed them my itinerary days ago. Plus they know the reason I’m not back in New Zealand yet is because I’m busy trying to fulfill their stipulation that I have a stable job.”

Gemma’s fingers tightened on the phone. Before everything had come to pieces she had accepted an appointment as a PA on Medinos to the Atraeus Resort’s manager. She had hoped that by coming to Medinos, the Atraeus Group’s head office, instead of resigning over the phone, she might be able to arrange a transfer to one of the Atraeus enterprises in New Zealand.

There was a small awkward silence. “Maybe whoever received the details didn’t pass it on. You know what government departments can be like….”

Gemma took a long, deep breath and forced herself to sound light and breezy, as if it didn’t matter that the welfare case worker was sneaking around, checking up on her. Trying to take Sanchia. “Sorry, you’re absolutely right. I’m just a bit stressed.”

“Don’t worry.” Lauren’s voice was crisp. “No way will I let them take Sanchia again. Just get back soon.”

“I will.” No pressure.

Once she had gotten the dad.

Gemma hung up. Collecting the trolley, she made her way to the service elevator and stabbed the call button. The stainless-steel doors threw her image back at her as she waited, the shapeless smock that swamped her slim frame, cheeks now flushed, dark eyes overly bright.

She frowned. The emotion that kept clutching at her chest, her heart, was understandable. She missed Sanchia and she was ultrastressed about having to prove she was a good, stable parent. Plus it had been a shock to run into Luisa Messena and find herself plunged into the past. Into the other area in which she had been deemed not good enough.

Grimly, she switched her thoughts back to her small daughter. With her straight black hair and sparkling dark eyes, Sanchia was a touchstone she desperately needed right at that moment.

Gemma might have made mistakes, and as a single mother she’d had to make a lot of sacrifices, but everything she had gone through had been worth it. Sanchia was the sweetest, most adorable thing in her life.

Although she was now far from being a baby. Like most of the O’Neills she had been born precocious, and she had grown up fast. The only difference was that unlike her red-haired cousins, Sanchia was dark and distinctly exotic. Just like her father.

The doors slid open. Blanking out that last thought, Gemma stepped inside and hit the ground-floor button.

Gabriel was going to marry.

She frowned, wishing she could stop her overtired brain from going in circles. The news shouldn’t have meant anything to her. Years had passed; she was over the wild schoolgirl crush that had dominated her teens.

Drawing a deep breath, she tried to make an honest examination of her feelings. Dismay, old hurt and the one she didn’t want to go near. The thought that somewhere, beneath all the layers of common sense and determined positive thinking, she might still harbor a few unresolved feelings for Gabriel.

Chest tight, she tried to distract herself from that possibility by watching floor numbers flash by. When that didn’t work, she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed for long seconds, trying to neutralize the emotion that had sneaked up on her.

Despite her efforts hot moisture leaked out from beneath her lids. It was stress and tiredness, nothing more. Using her fingers, she carefully wiped her cheeks, careful not to smear her mascara.

The doors slid open onto an empty corridor. Relieved, Gemma pushed the trolley into the service area and left it near the door to the kitchens. Head now throbbing with a definite headache, she walked to the sleek office that should have been officially hers as of next week, if the child welfare authorities hadn’t changed her priorities.

Instead of settling in her new job on Medinos and bringing Sanchia over to live with her here, she was now flying home on the first available flight. This office, and the job she had been about to start, would now be someone else’s.

Collecting the resignation she had written earlier, she walked briskly through to the manager’s office. It was empty, which was a relief, and she just placed it on his blotter. He was probably personally conducting other VIP guests, all here to attend the launch party of Ambrosi Pearls the following evening, to their rooms.

With her resignation now official, Gemma felt, if not relieved, at least a sense of closure.

As she turned to leave, she noticed a typed guest list for the Ambrosi Pearls party. It was being held at the Castello Atraeus, but resort personnel and chefs were handling the catering.

She flipped the list around. Gabriel Messena’s name leaped out at her.

She felt as if all the breath had just been knocked from her lungs. He would be here, on Medinos, tomorrow night.

An odd feeling of inevitability, a dizzying sense of déjà vu, hit her, which was crazy. With an effort of will, she dismissed the notion that fate was somehow throwing them back together.

Gabriel appearing on the scene right now, when she was trying to cope with a long-distance custody battle for Sanchia, was sheer coincidence. He was about to get engaged. There was no way on this earth she should ask for his assistance despite the fact that he was Sanchia’s biological father.

She needed to stick to her plan.

If Zane truly did want her, and they could cement their relationship in some public way, all of her problems would be solved. The welfare people could no longer claim she was an irresponsible “good-time girl,” the nanny’s lies would be discredited and her financial situation would no longer be a problem.

Although, scarily, to get them to that point, she was going to have to take the initiative and somehow jolt them off the platonic plateau they had been stranded on for the past two years.

It was possible that Zane felt constrained by the fact that she worked for his family company. But as of today, she was a free agent. The specter of an employer/employee relationship was no longer an issue.




Three


Gabriel checked his wristwatch as he walked off his flight to Medinos and into the first-class lounge, which was filled with a number of businessmen and groups of gaudily dressed tourists.

Impatiently, he skimmed the occupants. His younger brother, Nick, who was due in from a flight from Dubai, had requested an urgent meeting with him here.

Five minutes and half a cup of dark espresso later, Gabriel glanced up as Nick strolled in, looking broad-shouldered and relaxed in a dark polo and trousers. Dropping into the seat next to Gabriel, he flipped his briefcase open.

Gabriel took the thick document Nick handed him, a building contract for a high-rise in Sydney, a thick sheaf of plans and a set of costings. “Good flight?”

Nick grunted and gave him a “you’ve got to be kidding” look, then transferred his attention to the newspaper Gabriel had set down on the coffee table with its glaringly bright photograph. “Zane.” Amused exasperation lightened his expression. “In the news again, with another woman.”

For reasons he didn’t want to examine, Gabriel folded the newspaper and placed it on the floor beside his briefcase.

He had read the article again on the flight. The journalist hadn’t gone so far as to say the child was Zane’s—the details supplied had been sketchy and inflammatory—but the inference was clear enough.

Turning his attention back to the document Nick wanted him to look over, he forced himself to concentrate on his family’s most pressing problem. An archaic clause in his father’s will, and his elderly uncle and trustee, Mario Atraeus, which together had the power to bankrupt them all if he didn’t move swiftly.

The situation had been workable until Mario had started behaving erratically, refusing to sign crucial documents and “losing” others. Holdups and glitches were beginning to hamper the bank’s ability to meet its financial obligations.

Lately, Mario’s eccentricities had escalated another notch, when he had tried to use his power as trustee to leverage a marriage between Gabriel and Mario’s adopted daughter, Eva Atraeus.

In that moment, Gabriel had understood what lay behind Mario’s machinations. A widower, he was worried about dying and leaving his adoptive daughter alone and unmarried. In his mind, steeped in Medinian traditions, he would not have done his job as a father if he hadn’t assured a good marriage for Eva.

Gabriel, as the unmarried head of the Messena family, had become Mario’s prime matchmaking target.

Gabriel was clear on one point, however. When he finally got around to choosing a wife, it would be a matter of his choice, not Mario’s, or anyone else’s.

He would not endure a marriage of convenience simply to honor family responsibilities.

Placing the document on the coffee table, he checked his watch. “I can’t release the funds. I wish I could. I’ll have to run it past Mario.”

A muscle pulsed along the side of Nick’s jaw. “It took him two months to approve the last payment. If I renege now, the building contractor will walk.”

“Leave it with me. I’ll be able to swing something. Or Mario might sign.”

“There is one solution. You could get married.” Nick’s expression was open and ingenuous as he referred to the grace clause in their father’s will, which had its base in Medinian tradition. Namely, that a formally engaged or a married man was more responsible and committed than a single one. It was the one loophole that would decisively end Mario’s trusteeship of his father’s will and place control of the company securely in Gabriel’s hands.

Nick slipped his cell out of his briefcase. “Or you could get engaged. An engagement can be easily terminated.”

Gabriel sent his younger brother a frowning glance, which was wasted as Nick was busy reactivating the phone and flicking through messages. No doubt organizing his own very busy, very crowded, private life.

Sometimes he wondered if any of his five brothers and sisters even registered the fact that he was male, single and possessed a private life of his own, even if it was echoingly empty. “There won’t be a marriage, or an engagement. There’s a simpler solution. A psychological report on Mario would provide the grounds we need to end his trusteeship.”

Either that, or hope that he could work around the financial restraints Mario was applying for another tortuous six months until he turned thirty-one and could legally take full control of the family firm.

“Good luck with getting Uncle Mario to a doctor.” Nick’s gaze was glued to the screen of his cell as he thumbed in a text message. “I don’t know how you stay so calm.”

By never allowing himself to get emotionally involved with his own family.

The practice kept him isolated and a little lonely, but at least he stayed sane.

Nick gave up texting and sat back on the couch, the good-humored distraction replaced by a frown. “Mario could ruin us, you know. If you can get him to the doctor, how long will it take to get the report?”

Gabriel repressed his irritation that Nick didn’t seem to get it that the last thing Mario wanted to do at this juncture was cooperate in the process of proving that he was past it, and wresting his power from him. “I’m seeing Mario as soon as I get back from Medinos.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Before or after his nap?”

Gabriel crumpled his empty foam cup and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “Probably during.”

Nick said something short and flat. “If I can’t get the family firm to finance me, I will go elsewhere.”

Otherwise he would lose his shirt financially. Their younger brother, Damian, was in the same position, as were a number of key clients. If Gabriel couldn’t streamline their process, they could lose a lot of business. Worst-case scenario, the bank’s financial rating would be downgraded and they would lose a whole lot more.

Gabriel checked his wristwatch, placed the document in his briefcase, collected the newspaper and rose to his feet.

Nick followed suit, picking up his briefcase. “My finance deadline is one week. I don’t want to take my business elsewhere.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to. Apparently Constantine wants a favor.” His cousin Constantine Atraeus was the whole reason Gabriel was on Medinos in the first place. Constantine, who was the head of the Atraeus Group and enormously wealthy, was sympathetic about Gabriel’s situation. He had faced a similar problem with his own father, Lorenzo, Mario’s brother, who had behaved just as erratically in his old age.

Nick grinned. “Cool, that means you’ve got leverage.”

But Gabriel didn’t miss the flat note in Nick’s voice. If he couldn’t obtain Constantine’s backing to have Mario removed as trustee, and at the same time extend Gabriel a personal line of credit that Mario couldn’t interfere with, Nick would walk.

His brother kept pace with him as he strode toward his gate. He directed a frowning glance at the folded paper. “Isn’t the girl with Zane the O’Neill girl from Dolphin Bay you dated once?”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t expected Nick to remember Gemma. “It wasn’t exactly a date.”

Date was the last word he would use to describe the unscripted, passionate night they had spent together in a deserted beach house. “Gemma works for the Atraeus Group. She was Zane’s PA.”

Nick shrugged. “That explains it, then. You know what the tabloids are like. They were probably just out on some business date.”

“Maybe.” But if the child was Zane’s, there was no question that Gemma had gotten herself entangled with Zane, to her detriment.

And if that was the case then he bore some of the responsibility for her predicament. If Gabriel hadn’t been in Sydney the day the Atraeus Group was interviewing for office staff and put in a glowing recommendation, Gemma would never have beaten off some of the applicants who had applied for the position.

Unwittingly, Gabriel’s recommendation had eventually put Gemma directly in Zane’s path.

He didn’t know Zane as well as he knew his other two Atraeus cousins, Lucas and Constantine, but well enough to know that marriage had never been Zane’s favorite topic. He was more interested in short flings.

Or, apparently, longer, convenient arrangements.

Something snapped in him at the thought that Gemma had allowed herself to be seduced into a liaison with his cousin when Zane’s interest was self-serving and superficial. Despite the child, marriage obviously wasn’t on his agenda.

As he approached the exit doors for the airport, he recalled one other piece of information the article had offered. Apparently Gemma had just made the move from Sydney to Medinos in order to be close to Zane.

The fact that Gemma had been left out on a limb with a child, but was still intent on maintaining some kind of relationship with Zane shouldn’t matter to him, but it did.

The decision to reclaim Gemma settled in. If Zane had shown any hint that he wanted to commit, Gabriel would have backed off, but he hadn’t. Zane seemed quite happy to allow Gemma to shoulder all of the responsibility for the child. Added to that, Gabriel had made some private inquiries during the stopover in Dubai and discovered that Zane had been seeing someone else.

As far as Gabriel was concerned that settled the matter. Gemma was vulnerable and in need of rescue and he planned on being her rescuer.

He didn’t know how or when the opportunity would arise; all he knew was that with Zane’s cavalier attitude and a new girlfriend in the mix, it would be sooner rather than later.

Gemma mingled with the guests at the Ambrosi Pearls party, to which she had gained entry by using the invitation she had received a couple of days earlier.

Accepting a flute of champagne from a waiter, she skimmed the crowded reception room of the Castello Atraeus, which was lit by the soft shimmer of chandeliers. Elegant groupings of candles and bouquets of white roses and glossy dark greenery added a hothouse glamour to the room, which suddenly seemed to be filled with tall, dark lions of men. Wealthy and powerful members of both the Atraeus and Messena families.

Gemma’s heart skipped a beat as she caught a glimpse of broad, sleek shoulders, a clean, masculine profile and tough jaw. Even though she had come prepared for a face-to-face meeting with Gabriel, for a split second her heart seemed to stop in her chest.

The glittering crowd of guests shifted, a kaleidoscopic array of expensive jewelry and designer gowns, affording her an even clearer view.

In the wash of light from a chandelier, Gabriel’s features were tanned, as if he’d spent time outside under a hot sun, his jaw rock solid and darkened by the shadow of stubble. His hair, gleaming and coal-black, was longer than she remembered, now brushing the collar of his shirt.

Her fingers tightened on the lace clutch that matched her simple but elegant black dress.

Realizing just how tight her nerves were strung, Gemma reminded herself to breathe. She had hoped against hope that Gabriel wouldn’t actually attend the party. He didn’t normally show up at lavish promotional parties, even though he was often invited. On the few previous occasions that he had actually attended, she had usually found out ahead of time and found an excuse not to be there. Tonight she didn’t have that option. In order to buttonhole Zane, it was an absolute imperative that she was here.

A group of beautifully dressed women obscured her view, then she caught sight of Gabriel again. In that moment, as if drawn by her intensity, his head turned and the dark gaze that had continued to haunt one too many of Gemma’s dreams locked on hers.

Her heart slammed in her chest. Any idea that Gabriel hadn’t known she was here dissolved. He had, and from the way his brows jerked together, he wasn’t pleased to see her.

A sharp little pang of hurt shocked her into immobility.

Taking a steadying breath, Gemma did her best to shake off her oversensitive reaction. Unnerved by the direct eye contact, she placed her half-full champagne flute on a side table. Neatly changing direction, she almost walked into a waiter with a loaded tray.

Blushing and mumbling an apology, she sidestepped the waiter and threaded her way through the suddenly overheated, overperfumed room. A little desperately she noted that there was still no sign of Zane, who she was hoping would have been here early so she could get this whole situation resolved one way or another.

As she walked she was unbearably aware that, even though she could no longer see Gabriel, he was still watching her.

Her stomach clenched on an uncharacteristic burst of panic.

She had known Gabriel could attend, so it shouldn’t have been such a shock to see him. She just wished that her perfect record of avoidance hadn’t ended tonight of all nights.

A knot of guests parted and Zane finally appeared, striding directly toward her.

Nerves strung almost to breaking point, she noted the three studs in Zane’s lobe, which she had always privately thought were a little over the top, unlike Gabriel’s sleek tailored suit, which conferred a quiet, rock-solid power.

Calling on all of her acting skills, she tried to project her usual bright, outgoing persona.

The quick hug, which was punctuated by the intrusive flash of a camera, was not unusual between friends, but in that moment, hugging Zane felt horribly fake.

She was the problem, Gemma realized. Until she had seen Gabriel, her decision to try to shift her dating friendship with Zane into a regular relationship and enlist his help in getting Sanchia back had seemed viable. Now, in the space of just a couple of minutes, everything had changed.

Seeing Gabriel had unnerved her in ways she couldn’t have imagined. One piercing look from him and she felt guilty about choosing Zane, as if in some subtle way she was betraying Gabriel, which was ridiculous. While it was true he was Sanchia’s biological father, that was all he ever had been, or could be.

It was a relief when Zane, who appeared as distracted as she, didn’t respond in a positive way to her labored attempt to catapult their friendship into more intimate territory or show any desire to linger.

When he turned down her suggestion that they should go out onto the terrace, so she could launch into the very private conversation she needed to have with him, unnerved, Gemma made for the nearest exit. As she hurried out, her spine tingled with the knowledge that Gabriel was in the room and that he had witnessed her hugging Zane.

In that moment she saw her actions from Gabriel’s viewpoint and she didn’t like the needy picture that formed.

Anger stiffened her spine. For the first time in her life she was attempting to lose the strong independent streak that had been ingrained from childhood and ask a man she liked if he would consider having a relationship with her.

Gabriel could disapprove all he liked, but it was a fact that he had stepped out of the picture six years ago.

Plan A had failed. Now, unfortunately, she would have to resort to Plan B.




Four


Gabriel refused the glass of champagne a waiter offered him. His dark gaze swept the crowded reception room. A knot of gray-suited Japanese businessmen shifted and he was rewarded with another clear view of creamy skin, flame hair and black lace.

Constantine Atraeus lifted a brow. “Gemma O’Neill. Girl’s going places, or was. She’s just had to resign, a personal commitment.”

An instant replay of Gemma stepping into Zane’s arms made his jaw tighten. Then Constantine’s statement about Gemma resigning because of a personal commitment sank in.

His gaze sliced back to Constantine, with whom he’d been closeted earlier in the day, during which time he had agreed to oversee the start-up of a new Ambrosi Pearls venture in Auckland. However, he’d been unable to commit to a loan from the Atraeus Group because Mario was a significant shareholder and would instantly veto the deal. He could raise the amount Gabriel needed personally, but it would take time, which Gabriel currently didn’t have. “She’s finally gotten engaged to Zane?”

“Zane?” Constantine looked surprised. “As far as I know they’re friends, and that’s all. It’s not public yet, but Zane is on the verge of getting engaged to Lilah Cole. Although, an engagement is probably exactly what Gemma needs at this point.”

Gabriel frowned at Constantine’s reference to another tabloid story he had found online, that Gemma was having custody difficulties with her small daughter.

Constantine’s wife, Sienna, a gorgeous blonde, joined them, ending the conversation. The next time Gabriel searched out Gemma, she had disappeared from sight, and so had Zane. Jaw tight, he excused himself and went outside.

The large stone terrace, with its spectacular view across a deceptively smooth stretch of sea to the island of Ambrus and the clear, star-studded sky, was empty. The tension that hummed through him loosened off a notch. Walking to the parapet, he gripped the railing and stared at the line of luminescence on the far horizon, the last soft glimmer of the setting sun.

He didn’t know what he would have done if he had found Gemma and Zane locked in an intimate clinch. His reaction to the situation so far had not been either considered or tactical, it had simply been knee-jerk.

Gaze still caught and held by the purity of sky and sea, he let the soft chill of the night settle around him. An image from the past, of dark red hair across his chest, Gemma soft and warm against him, filled his mind, blotting out the night sky.

In the midst of the grief and betrayal of his father’s death there had been no time for the passion that had hit him like a thunderbolt.

But that was six years ago. Since then the situation had changed. His family had recovered from the double blow of his father’s death and the resulting scandal. The bank’s financial performance had been brilliant, thanks to his careful management and his younger brother, Kyle’s, flare for investment. The only fly in the ointment was Mario and his machinations, which had recently begun to stall business.

The raw relief he’d experienced when Constantine had said Zane was about to get engaged to Lilah Cole, a high-profile designer for Ambrosi Pearls, replayed itself.

His fingers tightened on the parapet as he recalled the earlier sight of Gemma with her arms around Zane’s neck. It was clear that she didn’t understand she had lost Zane to another woman.

The fact that Zane hadn’t had the courage to inform Gemma he was going to marry someone else made his jaw tighten. If he wasn’t mistaken, Gemma was about to be badly hurt.

It wasn’t exactly a repeat of the situation that had thrown them together six years ago, but it was oddly close.

The thought that, after years of careful control, utter focus on his work and family life, he could step into the maelstrom of passion that had swept him away in Dolphin Bay tightened every muscle in his body, but the desire to do so was tempered with caution. He couldn’t forget the power of the obsessive passion that had ensnared his father. There was no way he could abandon himself to desire, and suddenly he had his plan.

Gemma needed relationship stability in order to establish custody of her child. With Constantine unable to guarantee the loan he needed within a forty-eight-hour framework, he could use a believable fiancée, on a strictly temporary basis, to cut through the legal clauses preventing him from taking full control of his company.

A fake engagement would provide the solutions they both needed and in his case, a safe, controlled environment in which to explore the passion that coursed through his veins.

Satisfied, he left the terrace and strolled back into the Castello and the ornate reception room. Gemma was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Zane.

He would find Gemma, it was just a matter of time. Thanks to boyhood holidays spent running wild on Medinos, he knew every nook and cranny of the Castello. He only hoped he didn’t find Zane with her. If that was the case, he decided coldly, he would deal with the situation in the time-honored way, down on the beach and without an audience.

Gemma walked quickly down a small corridor and stepped into an anteroom that was currently used to hold coats and wraps. Closing the door behind her, she leaned on it for long seconds, allowing her breathing and her heart rate to steady.

Pushing away from the cold, dark wood of the door, she searched amongst the jumble of bags to find the canvas bag she had stashed in the room earlier.

Relief flooded her as her fingers closed over the strap. Hauling it from out of the expensive collection of designer handbags, she placed it on an ornate carved table that had probably been in existence for centuries and was no doubt worth an obscene amount of money.

The fact that the Atraeus family could put an heirloom antique in a room that was little more than a storage room underlined the yawning abyss between their lives and hers. Zane was not a typical Atraeus, which was another reason why she had found him so easy to get on with. Even though he bore the name Atraeus, he hadn’t come from wealth originally. He understood what it was like to be poor.

Fingers shaking with an overload of adrenaline, she checked the black lace negligee and a bottle of champagne that was rapidly losing its chill. At the bottom of the bag she had also stowed a glossy magazine she’d found with an article titled “How To Seduce Your Man in Ten Easy Ways.”

After careful thought, she had chosen the birthday surprise scenario, with her as the surprise. Nervous terror clutched at her just at the thought of actually having to resort to that tactic. Even viewing it as a scene she was acting, she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.

At the last minute, she had also slipped into her evening bag an envelope of melt-your-heart snapshots of Sanchia.

Plan C. Just in case she couldn’t go through with the seduction plan.

Gemma hurried down a corridor lined with cold fortress stone and archaic-looking brass lamps that glowed a soft buttery gold in the dimness. Mouth dry, she opened the door to Zane’s private quarters, using the spare key she had obtained from the cleaner’s office downstairs, and stepped inside.

A large sitting room with French doors opened onto a stone terrace. An ultramodern kitchenette occupied an alcove. Opening the fridge, she placed the now warm bottle of French champagne on a shelf to chill.

Briskly, she set about completing her preparations. If Zane had only agreed to talk to her, she wouldn’t have had to resort to these lengths, but as she stepped into Zane’s bedroom and was confronted with what looked like a king-size bed, the risk she was taking suddenly loomed large.

A niggling doubt surfaced. Encountering Zane’s coolness at the launch party had leached away her confidence. The fear that she had resolutely suppressed, that proposing a real relationship was a ludicrous solution, came back to haunt her.

The idea of proposing a fake engagement was seeming more and more viable.

The fact that she had an alternative solution cheered her up and brought her normal positivity and optimism bouncing back to the surface.

Heart beating even faster, she walked through to the bedroom, her gaze automatically flinching from the king-size bed.

Now that it had come to the crunch, her seduction plan seemed basically unworkable because of one chilly little fact. Sexually, so far, she hadn’t really felt anything for Zane.

It was a glitch she had happily glossed over, but that now loomed large—a fatal flaw in her plan.

She didn’t know why she couldn’t quite whip up the enthusiasm to fall passionately in love with Zane, despite both working and socializing with him. According to magazines and tabloids, practically every other woman on the planet was desperate for her ex-boss.

Instead she was shaking like a leaf and suddenly the whole idea of touching Zane, of actually shifting out of the comfortable casual friendship they’d shared to actually kissing him, seemed absurd.

An image of Gabriel and his cool, assessing gaze flashed into her mind. She stopped dead in the middle of the high-ceilinged lounge decorated in the spare but dramatic Medinian way, with dark furniture and jewel-bright Kilims scattered on the floor, her already shaky resolve wavering further. In that instant an oil painting featuring a woman draped in vivid, hot pink silk caught her eye. Pink was Sanchia’s favorite color.

The thought of her daughter and their predicament was a timely reminder.

Grabbing the bag with the negligee, she walked resolutely through to the bathroom. Keeping her gaze averted from a wall-length mirror in a heavily carved gold frame, another exotic museum piece, she quickly changed into the negligee.

As she straightened and shoved her dress into the bag she caught a full frontal view of herself and blushed. With her hair tousled, her eyes dark, her pale skin gleaming through the lace, she looked like a high-priced courtesan.

That was the whole idea, of course, so she could hopefully shock Zane into seeing her as a woman instead of just a friend. But crazily, she still felt as if what she was planning was some kind of betrayal of Gabriel.

Although why should she feel guilty that after two years of dating she was finally attempting to launch her relationship with Zane on to a proper, intimate footing?

Unless, in her heart of hearts, she did still carry a torch for Gabriel?

She blinked at the thought, which had been at the edge of her mind ever since she had overheard the conversation in Gabriel’s mother’s hotel suite.

It would explain her emotional reaction, then the tension that had zinged through her when she had caught sight of Gabriel tonight. Not just tension that he was in the room and could possibly find out about Sanchia, but an acute feminine reaction that had shivered along her nerve endings and heightened all of her senses.

The kind of reaction that had hit her six years ago, and that had ended in a pregnancy.

The kind of reaction she had failed to feel for Zane.

The stark realization that she had been incapable of falling for anyone since the passionate interlude with Gabriel hit her with enough force that she froze in place.

She drew a shaky breath, feeling faintly ill. It was time to take her head out of the sand. The utter lack of sex and passion in her life wasn’t because she was too busy as a working mother, and simply too tired to date. Or that she was ultrapicky about a man’s qualities because, first and foremost, she needed to choose someone who would be good for Sanchia.

It was because somehow Gabriel Messena did still matter to her in a deep, intimate, personal way.

Blankly, she walked out of the bathroom. Stomach tight, legs feeling like noodles, she came to a halt in the middle of the sitting room. Dazed, she stared at the cool white walls, the rich trappings of the room. She didn’t know how it could have happened, just that it had.

On an intellectual level, she had convinced herself that she had cut ties with Gabriel and wasn’t attracted to him in any way. But the problem was that she had been a virgin when they had made love. Gabriel was her first and only lover. She had never fallen for anyone else in her entire life, including her teenage years. All of her experiences of love, sex and passion were bound up with Gabriel.

It was no wonder her body had reacted. She had seen Gabriel and the emotions and sensations she had only ever experienced with him, and that she had never gotten closure for, had resurfaced.

A knock on the door sent adrenaline shooting through her veins.

Logic told her it couldn’t be Zane; he wouldn’t knock. The thought that it could be Gabriel made the breath catch in her throat, although the whole idea that, after glimpsing her at the party, he would come after her, or even know that she was in Zane’s room, was ridiculous. He hadn’t contacted her in years, so why would he now?

Clutching the lapels of her negligee together, she gripped the medieval iron door handle and opened the door a crack. It was Lilah. Knowledge and guilt seared her as she registered the hurt in the other woman’s gaze.

She had known Lilah was attracted to Zane and seemed to be pursuing him with limited success. She had ignored the complication, because a great many women had chased after Zane.

Lilah’s expression chilled as she took in what Gemma was wearing. “You should stop trying and go home. Sex won’t make Zane, or any man, have a relationship with you.”

A sharp pain stabbed at her heart. Six years ago, instead of bringing them closer together, sex had destroyed any chance of a relationship with Gabriel. He had probably thought that she always gave in on a first date.

Although why she was thinking about Gabriel again, when this situation was entirely different, she didn’t know. The whole point of the seduction scenario was that Zane would see her as the woman she was and stop treating her like a younger sister.

She lifted her chin. “How can you know that?”

The same pain Gemma had experienced just seconds ago flashed in the other woman’s gaze. With a jolt, Gemma realized that Lilah was in love with Zane.

“Logic. If you couldn’t make him fall in love with you in two years, then it’s probably not going to happen.”

The fatal flaw in her plan.

Relief rolled through Gemma. Lilah had stated the one simple fact that she had somehow managed to talk herself around, but that happily undermined every one of her plans. Time had passed and nothing had happened between her and Zane, and there had been plenty of opportunities.

She had put it down to the fact that she was always so tired and stressed with juggling Sanchia, a never-ending stream of nannies and a job that often included travel. Sex had just not been a priority. But it should have been for a hot alpha male like Zane.

The grim fact was that they were more like brother and sister than possible lovers.

Sudden embarrassed heat washed through her as she realized how exposed she was to Lilah, dressed for seduction and obviously waiting for Zane. And now she couldn’t wait to leave.

Zane. Panic jolted through her.

She had to get out of his suite before he found her.

With a brief apologetic look toward Lilah, she closed the door, found the bag with her dress and raced to the bathroom. Wrenching the negligee off, not caring when the fine silk and lace caught and tore, she fumbled into her dress, dragged the zipper up and jammed the negligee into the bag, out of sight.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/fiona-brand/the-fiancee-charade/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.