The Fiancée Caper

by Maureen Child

  “And I’m guessing Jean Luc was very generous....” Marie said.

  “Very.” Rico sighed. “He paid the fisherman the equivalent of several months’ earnings.”

  Gianni looked at Marie and saw the frustration on her features. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t like it any more than she did that the slippery Frenchman had found a way to elude them. But in a way, Gianni was also glad of it. If they’d managed to hold on to Jean Luc, then they could have retrieved the stolen necklace that much sooner, which would only cut down on the time he had left with Marie. And he wanted every moment he had with her. He wasn’t ready to end this...relationship.

  God. His instincts recoiled from the very word. He had never been a man who looked for commitment. The life he lived had hardly been a good fit for an everyday home life. Instead, he’d enjoyed women here and there and then left them behind when it was time to move on. And he’d never wasted a moment’s thought on any of them, once they were out of his life.

  Marie would be different, he knew. He would think of her. Remember her. And ache for her. Not something he was comfortable admitting, but at the same time, it wasn’t something he could deny—at least not to himself.

  He’d gone into this situation with Marie knowing it would be temporary, but somehow that had seemed so much simpler when this began. Now, temporary was suddenly feeling far too...temporary.

  “So,” Marie said glumly, “we have no idea where he went after he was on St. Thomas.”

  “None,” Rico agreed. “Once the fisherman dropped him at the docks, Jean Luc could have gone anywhere. My guess is, straight to the airport. But from there, who knows where he headed.”

  Gianni was watching Marie and saw several different emotions flash across her face, one after the other. She looked up at him. “Do you think he went home? To Monaco?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Probably, though there’s no way to know for sure until we go there looking for him.”

  She nodded and chewed at her bottom lip.

  “You’re staying until the end of the jewelry exhibition, though?”

  Gianni glanced at Rico briefly. “Yes. I assured Interpol I would be on site and I wouldn’t want to disappoint my new employers.”

  Rico smiled. “I guess not. I’m glad to hear it, though. Having extra eyes on the show has already paid off.” He looked at the launch that had fired up moments before and was already pulling away from the dock, carrying Franklin Hicks and the would-be thief to the authorities on St. Thomas. “I’ll see you both back at the showroom this afternoon?”

  “Yes,” Gianni said, his gaze fixed on Marie. “We’ll be there.”

  “Paulo and your father should be arriving tonight for the christening tomorrow,” Rico said.

  “Right.” Gianni couldn’t look away from the green-eyed gaze that stared into his with concentration.

  “Okay.” Rico laughed under his breath. “I’m going back to the hotel. I’ll see you both there in an hour?”

  “We’ll see you then,” Marie said.

  “Fine.” Rico took a step or two from them, then stopped and turned back. “You know, you two make quite a team.”

  “What?” Gianni asked.

  “What?” Marie said at the same time.

  Rico laughed again, this time louder and with real pleasure. “Like I said. Quite a team.”

  “What kind of team do you think?” Gianni asked, one corner of his mouth tipping up. “Sherlock and Watson?”

  Her lips curved and light seemed to gleam in her eyes. “I’m thinking more Turner and Hooch.”

  He frowned, until he remembered the movie she was referring to. “Ah, but darling, you’re so much prettier than any mastiff.”

  She laughed as he’d intended and when he took her hand and threaded her arm through his, she leaned into him and whispered, “You’re very funny. But if we’re Sherlock and Watson, you are so Watson.”

  * * *

  The following day was the christening and Marie wished she were anywhere but there. Honestly, from the moment Paulo Coretti and his father had arrived on the island, Paulo had made no secret of the fact that he didn’t much like Marie.

  They’d all had dinner together the night before in Rico and Teresa’s suite and she’d caught Paulo’s suspicious-angry-curious gaze on her more than once. But he hadn’t said much to her beyond a grunt of greeting. Until today.

  Now, they all were once again gathered in Rico and Teresa’s living room before leaving for the small island church. And Paulo’s reticence from the night before was long gone.

  Briefly, she flinched under his hard stare and then reminded herself that she wasn’t the bad guy here. Well, she reconsidered, to him, she probably was. She had evidence against his father and had blackmailed his brother. Her gaze shifted to where Gianni sat, calm and seemingly indifferent while his younger brother ranted.

  Looking at Paulo objectively, Marie could see the resemblance between the brothers, but to her, Gianni was gorgeous. He was taller, leaner somehow despite the muscles she’d spent the last two nights defining with her fingertips—and his temperament wasn’t nearly as volatile as Paulo’s.

  Marie shifted uncomfortably on the couch and felt as if she were on display. All eyes seemed turned to her and while she couldn’t blame them, she wasn’t enjoying the attention.

  Teresa sat on the couch beside her father, Nick, who held his first grandchild in his arms. Rico was standing at the bar, looking as though he wanted to stuff a sock in Paulo’s mouth to keep him quiet. And Gianni lounged on the couch beside Marie, his features carefully blank.

  For two days, Marie and Gianni had been together in every way possible. There was no more pretense between them, just passion. Marie had given up trying to sort out what was happening to her. All she could do was admit to what she felt when she was with Gianni and enjoy it as long as she could.

  But it wasn’t just the passion she was enjoying. It was simply being with him. Marie had loved it all. Working with him, sleeping with him, having him reach for her in the middle of the night to make love slowly in the shadowy light. She knew nothing was solved between them, she knew there was still Jean Luc to deal with, the return of the Contessa and the evidence against his father. But for two days, she’d managed to not worry about the future and just enjoy the now, as Gianni had once said.

  But this now was far less enjoyable.

  “She holds evidence against our father,” Paulo was saying in a voice loud enough to grab her attention, “and yet, she sits here with us as though she belongs.” He threw both hands up in the air, then stalked across the living room to the wet bar, where Rico had a cold beer waiting for him.

  Those words slapped at her, whether Gianni’s brother knew it or not. She didn’t belong and she knew it. She hadn’t belonged anywhere since her father died. And while the Corettis were circling the wagons to protect their own from her, all she could really feel was envy at what they had. Even though they didn’t live near each other, though they might only see each other a few times a year, the closeness between them was easy for an outsider to acknowledge.

  And that’s what she was, she reminded herself. Despite what she and Gianni had been to each other for the last few days, she was an outsider and always would be.

  “Paulo,” Teresa said, trying to calm the waters, “Marie’s not going to turn Papa in.”

  Marie looked at the other woman gratefully. She’d at least made a friend here this week, she told herself, and she’d miss Teresa when all this ended.

  Paulo laughed, a harsh, short shot of sound. “And for this you take her word? The word of a cop?”

  “I’m not a cop anymore,” Marie said, finally entering the Coretti fray to defend herself. She sent Gianni, still seated casually on the sofa, an angry glare for keeping quiet. It wasn’t as though she
needed rescuing, but it would have been nice to hear him say something in her favor. Apparently, though, she was doomed to disappointment there.

  Turning back to face his brother she continued. “I’m not even employed, thanks to Jean Luc Baptiste.”

  Paulo took a long pull of his beer. “Please. You are a cop inside—” he slapped his chest with one hand for emphasis “—where it matters most. You traveled the world to find evidence against us, then to wind Gianni up in your scheme to find Jean Luc and get back a necklace stolen from under your nose. That sense of justice is all cop.”

  She stood up, facing him on her feet. “You say that like it’s an insult, but it’s not. My father was a cop and his father before him. You’re proud of your family, yes?”

  His eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

  “So am I,” she snapped. “I get that you’re angry about my being here, but maybe attacking me isn’t the best way to handle it.”

  Paulo fumed silently, but she caught the gleam of respect in his eyes as he looked at her. And that, she told herself, was probably as good as she was going to get from him.

  Stunned silence stretched out for a few seconds before Gianni began applauding, slowly and loudly. One by one, everyone turned to look at him. He stood up, pulled Marie to his side and held her there when she might have squirmed out of his reach. “That’s enough, Paulo. Marie is with me and you won’t say another word to her about any of this.”

  The other man took a breath as if about to argue, but Gianni cut him off. “I mean it. What’s between Marie and I will remain between the two of us.”

  “And the evidence she holds?”

  Marie shifted uncomfortably. Gianni’s arm around her tightened.

  “It is for me to worry about.”

  “Easy enough to say when it is Papa who will go to prison.”

  Marie grimaced and shifted her gaze to where the older man sat on the couch softly jiggling his sleeping grandson in his arms. As if he knew everyone was looking at him, Nick spoke, never taking his gaze off the baby.

  “Prison is not so much a thing to fear, Paulo. And if this lovely young woman believes it is the right thing to do, then she will turn the photo over to the polizia in Italy and it will be done.”

  “Papa—” Paulo stopped when his father fired one quick glare at him.

  “Enough. As Gianni says, all will be as it will be. For today, this is the christening of my grandson and I will allow nothing to spoil it.” His voice was firm and low as he asked of the room in general, “Is that understood?”

  Muttered agreements rolled through the room and when Gianni gave Marie a hard squeeze, she leaned into him, grateful for the support. She looked up at him and he smiled. That’s when she figured out that he’d waited for her to speak up for herself. To stand against Paulo and set a tone with his younger brother.

  It was just one more thing she loved about him. Gianni would be her white knight if she needed one, but he also had enough confidence in her to stand back and enjoy watching her take care of herself.

  She took a breath and let her mind wander as the Coretti family stood and readied to leave for the church. Working with Gianni at the jewelry show had been fun. As had catching that thief—being the “team,” as Rico had called them. She loved that Gianni could make her laugh. Loved that he respected her opinions. Loved that he looked at her through eyes glowing with desire. Loved that—oh, God.

  She loved him.

  How had it happened so quickly? Heck, how had it happened at all? Gianni Coretti represented everything she’d fought against her entire adult life. He was a thief—reformed or not—and he was proud of it. He came from a family that flaunted laws in every country they visited. He was everything she should have avoided—and everything she wanted.

  She was in very deep trouble.

  * * *

  The small Catholic church stood at the end of the village. Locals had built the chapel from river stone brought in from all over the island and the result was a place that felt both warm and sacred. The baptismal font was a huge bowl hand-carved from one of the ancient banyan trees and sanded until it looked like honey-colored satin. Stained glass windows over the altar sent shards of ruby, golden and sapphire sunlight drifting over the people gathered at the font as the island priest blessed Matteo King.

  Marie still had that outsider feeling, but Gianni seemed to sense it in her. He made a point of holding her hand or draping his arm over her shoulder, drawing her into the center of things even when her mind and heart told her to pull away.

  The Corettis stood together as a family, huddled around the tiny child, who was the star of the show. Rico’s cousin, Sean King, and his wife, Melinda, were godparents and Nick Coretti kept their two children amused during the ceremony. It was all very simple, straightforward and lovely in a way that touched Marie’s heart and lodged a knot of sentiment in her throat.

  As she watched the family’s closeness, their commitment to each other, Marie finally realized that she couldn’t go through with the plan that had brought her here. Her gaze moved over Nick, an older, charming man who smiled and whispered with two tiny restless children. He was a thief, yes, but he was so much more than that, too.

  Those shades of gray infiltrating her world were becoming difficult to ignore. The stark universe of right and wrong she’d always inhabited seemed so narrow now, she couldn’t imagine how she’d lived like that for so long. She couldn’t send Nick to prison. She’d never be able to live with herself thinking of him locked away in some sterile, awful cell, unable to see the family he so clearly adored.

  Gianni’s hand squeezed hers and she knew she was through blackmailing him. Taking a deep breath, she promised herself that once they were back at the hotel, she’d give Gianni the evidence she had against his father and tell him he had nothing to worry about from her. She couldn’t blackmail a man she loved—especially not by threatening the family that meant so much to him. Her mind was so busy, she hardly noticed the rest of the ceremony.

  By the time the baptism was over and the small party wandered out into the sunlight, laughing and talking, Marie felt as though she’d run an emotional marathon. She needed air. Space. Time to separate her heart from her mind and try to figure out what to do next with her life.

  But she didn’t get that time. Instead, Gianni bent his head to hers and whispered, “Teresa has lunch planned for all of us. But after that, I think we should go to our room for a...nap.”

  Marie looked up at him and found the smile she knew he needed. Then giving in to the urge to touch him, she reached up and stroked her fingertips across his cheek. None of this was going to end well. She knew it. There was just no possible way out of this situation without ending up as the walking wounded.

  Yet, she couldn’t deny herself another chance to have Gianni’s body deep inside hers. So for the now, she told herself firmly, she would do what she wanted, needed to do. One more night with him. She knew what she had to do.

  All she needed was the courage to do it.

  * * *

  Their bodies still locked together in the aftermath of the storm, Marie trembled with the force of the orgasm still rippling through her bloodstream, fogging her mind.

  She threaded her fingers through his thick black hair and let the softness glide against her skin, making another sensory memory that she would carry with her always. Breathing harsh and heavy, he looked down into her eyes for a long moment as their heartbeats slowly returned to normal. Finally, though, he rolled to one side of her, propped himself up on an elbow and asked, “Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

  “Not really,” she admitted, trepidation and misery already rising up inside her.

  “Marie...”

  She bit her lip and when he reached out one hand to her, she slipped away, sliding off the edge of the huge bed, dragging
the sheet with her. Holding it up in front of her like a flimsy shield, she forced herself to say what she didn’t want to. “I’m leaving, Gianni.”

  Frowning slightly in confusion, he shook his head and said, “Yes. We will both be leaving once the exhibition is over.”

  “No.” She shook her head and lifted her chin. “I meant, I’m leaving now.”

  “Now?” He sat up to stare at her. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s the only thing I can do,” she said, not expecting him to understand. Wow, could she have handled the beginning of this conversation more awkwardly? “I’m trying to say it’s over, Gianni. Jean Luc is gone and now that he knows we’re together, his guard will be up and we’ll never get the Contessa back.”

  He pushed off the bed, marched around it, proudly naked and not bothering to cover himself. Although, she thought wildly, why would he? If there ever was a man built to walk around nude, it was Gianni Coretti. Just looking at him made her mouth water and her hands itch to touch all that bronzed skin.

  But the expression on his face was forbidding. “I have told you I will retrieve the necklace and I will.”

  “I know you would try,” she said, trying to soothe him, but apparently failing when his expression only darkened.

  “Try?” he repeated. “I am Gianni Coretti. If I tell you I will do something, I do it.”

  A harsh, strained chuckle escaped her throat. He was so impossibly arrogant and self-confident. So sure that he could do anything—why did that only make her love him more? “I’m telling you I don’t want you to. I think it’s best for both of us if we just go back to our lives and...forget we ever met.”

  Gianni was speechless. For the first time in his life he had absolutely no idea what to say. His quick wit had failed him when he needed it most. He had nothing to fight against the sad and miserable expression on her face. Her eyes told him everything. She had already said goodbye, with her body. He realized that now. Even while he had been making love to her, she was letting him go, mentally returning to her own life, far from his. Now it was only left for her mind to do the same.