Temporarily Hitched : A second chance fake marriage romance

by Diane Louise

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About the Author

  Temporarily Hitched

  By Diane Louise

  Copyright © 2017 by Diane Louise

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About the Author

  Prologue

  'If you don't do it now you never will.' Misty's voice cut through the silent air.

  Daniella jumped. She had been so engrossed in watching Franco Zorita and her father in the midst of a heated discussion, her friend's approach took her by surprise,

  'Do what?' She said casually, knowing exactly what Misty referred to.

  'Tell him you love him.' Misty offered the bottle of alcohol she'd somehow managed to sneak out of the house but Daniella declined. 'If you don't tell him now you won't do it at all. I know you.'

  'He's busy.’

  Misty thrust the drink into her hand. 'Forget what your mother says about booze being the demise of a woman's valuable appearance. It's utter bollocks. Take a swig for Dutch courage and wiggle your skinny ass down there to claim your man.'

  Daniella rested her arms over the veranda wall, dangling the bottle in her fingers and sighed. 'He's not my man.'

  'He never will be if you insist of being a coward and not tell him.'

  'Look at him, Misty. He's god like. I've got no chance, and if he doesn't know how I feel by now, he never will.'

  Daniella returned her focus to figuring out what her father and the man who owned her heart were discussing. The breeze wasn't on her side though; it carried their words down the valley and into the distance, where the glittering lights of Pozuelo De Alarcon looked like a magical gathering of fairies.

  Franco did not seem amused, he paced and gesticulated with his hands and her father looked more humble with every passing second. Ripping a bottle from her father's grasp, he thrust his arm towards the house, indicating that their conversation was over. With a bowed head her father left, making a sorrowful silhouette as he entered the Zorita household, not noticing Daniella and Misty watching him from above.

  'Go.' Misty instructed. 'Now.'

  Daniella closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, standing tall she turned to her best friend. 'How do I look?'

  'Ravishing. Now go.' Misty used her palm and pushed at the bottle urging Daniella to drink.

  Rolling her eyes Daniella took a sizeable swig, coughing and spluttering she handed the alcohol back. 'Yuk. I think I'll listen to my mother from now on.'

  'It'll grow on you, now go, I'll wait for you here.' Misty laid her hands on Daniella's shoulders and spun her round. 'Go to him, it'll be perfect, exactly as you always dreamed.'

  Daniella tried to take a few steps, but her legs, heavy as lead, seemed to drag along behind her on the concrete floor. She turned to plead with Misty but her friend merely shooed her away.

  Franco took a seat on one of the modern poolside recliners and slumped forward. Judging by his posture, he didn't appear to be in the mood for company. Daniella considered backing out but Misty was correct, it was now or never. She was leaving Spain the following evening and heading back to London to take up her space at LAMDA, a place she had worked hard to obtain, and the place that promised to make all of her dreams a reality. Well, nearly all of them. The one dream no performing arts school could fulfil sat across the pool from her. Looking simply divine in tailored trousers and blue dress shirt, every bit the heir to a ridiculously successful investment firm. A strong, charismatic man. A couple of years older than she, but his imposing demeanor and wealth made him appear so much more sophisticated, and far out of Daniella's league.

  Daniella's legs took on a life of their own as they somehow carried her towards him. Pausing a few steps away from Franco, she froze. She hadn't even considered what the hell to say. Waltzing on up and declare her undying love would be too corny. Could she suggest a date? That was laughable, when for? Next year?

  'What do you want, Daniella?' He said without looking up.

  Shit. No chance of backing away now.

  'I was, erm,' she spluttered. The truth was she had no idea what she wanted. Well, she knew what she wanted but had no idea how to say it. 'I just wanted to, um.'

  Franco sighed and turned his head towards her. His dark hair flopped over his eyes but nothing could mask the angry flicker they emitted. 'Honestly, Daniella. You should go back to the party.' Usually his thick Spanish accent wrapped around her like cotton. Tonight though, it carried a hard edge which unnerved her. Ignoring her anxiety she sat beside him, accidentally grazing his thigh with hers. She pulled it away, unable to cope with the intense shocks that bolted through her body whenever they made physical contact.

  'The house looks good,' she said, breaking the silence. In all the years she had known him there had never been awkward silences; it only served to firm up in her mind that this was a dreadful idea. They were good friends. She should leave and be satisfied with his friendship.

  'Thank you,' he said, still examining the bottle he had ripped from her father's hands.

  'You must be proud,' she continued, wanting him to talk to her, to open up, as he always did. 'The place looks amazing, you've a strong eye for design and...'

  'I signed the paperwork, that's all,' he cut her off mid sentence. 'Now if you don't mind I would like to...'

  Danielle nodded and shivered against the cool summer breeze. 'Ok, I'll leave,' she said. 'But first can I apologise for my father. He's going through a tough patch and he seems to be making enemies at every turn. I don't know what he was saying, but I'm sorry for it.'

  At last Franco raised his head and looked at her. But Daniella was so wrapped up in nerves she couldn't bring herself to look back at him.

  'Your father is a fool,' he said.

  Her mouth pulled tight. 'I know.' Daniella loved her father dearly but the man seemed hell bent on making life difficult for everybody around him. He had enjoyed a long and lustrous acting career but it was all going terribly wrong. The movie contracts had become few and far between in recent years, and the productions he was being considered for were low budget. Many were flopping. His name didn't sell them the same way it used to. 'It's just work, times are tough for him, you know?'

  Franco nodded in agreement. 'You're correct,' he nudged her gently. 'The bus
iness can drive a man to do, to say stupid things. I've seen many a fair lady be destroyed by it.'

  'I can handle it, Franco, you know I can.'

  The brief flicker of the friendly boy she grew up playing with every summer left again. 'No, Daniella, I fear you can not.'

  Her skin prickled at his words. 'Why are you being so cruel?'

  'I am not cruel. The industry is cruel, Daniella.' He gazed back into the distance. 'You are young, and you have yet to learn.'

  'How dare you patronise me?' Daniella jumped to her feet. 'You aren't much older than me. Who are you to tell me what is and what isn't good for me?' She leaned forward and snatched the bottle from his hands. 'I am not a little girl anymore, Franco. In case you failed to notice I grew up.'

  Untwisting the cap she took a swig, this time managing to stifle her disgust for it.

  'You think this is grown up, do you?' He joined her in standing and snatched the bottle back. 'Grown up is listening to sound advice when it is given to you.'

  The air around them crackled with tension, as they stood in silence, glaring into one another's eyes. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to lower her heart rate. Angry didn't come close to describing how she felt. 'I only came here to say...'

  'What? To say what? That you love me? That we should be together?' His words caught her off guard; they were laced with a hatred she'd never witnessed from him before. Franco had never spoken to her with anything other than tenderness and respect, the bitterness he threw around now caused hot needles to prick at the back of her eyes. He flung a hand in the air before continuing. 'You're no different to all the other fame seekers I've met in my life. With dreams bigger than your talent. Go and find somebody else's shirt tails to ride.'

  'I do love you, Franco.' Daniella's voice was small, weak. 'I always have.'

  He turned his back to her. 'Just leave, Daniella, I thought you were different, I really did.'

  Daniella tried to swallow but it hurt. 'Franco...'

  'Leave.'

  'Please, just let me...'

  'What?' He spat, spinning back round with a forceful purpose.

  'Let me show you.' Without thinking, Daniella threw herself onto his steel chest. Standing on tiptoes she locked her mouth onto his and wrapped her arms around his neck. For what felt like minutes but were probably only seconds she persisted, trying in vain to entice a response from his cold, unimpassioned lips. She was desperate for him to kiss her back, to recognise the truth behind her gesture. To see she was not like that, and she truly, madly loved him. He may as well have been a statue for his lack of response. Eventually, he raised his hands to her shoulders but instead of pulling her tight, as she hoped he would, he pushed her away.

  Holding her at arms length, he bit down on his beautiful lips. 'You are a fool, Daniella. Leave. Go and play with your friends in La-La land.'

  Sniffing back her tears she did as she was told. She ran towards the house without once looking back. Had she taken a moment to look at him once more, she would have seen him raise his hand to where her mouth had been and place a gentle kiss on his finger tips. Charging up the steps two at a time she hoped to find her best friend and collapse into her. She assumed Misty would have witnessed the entire spectacle and be waiting for her, but instead the area was empty. Her friend had abandoned her in her hour of need. Gathering her thoughts and drying her eyes she walked through the floor to ceiling glass doors and re-entered the party. At once she spotted Misty, talking with her father. Going over there now wasn't an option. Her father would ask too many questions. Instead, she avoided eye contact with everybody, continued walking through the lavish property, made her exit through the glass front door, and ran. She didn’t stop until she was within the safety of her family's holiday home, where she flung herself onto her bed and howled into her pillow.

  The sun streamed through Daniella's window, giving her bedroom a perfect, almost dreamlike feel, and roused her from her slumber. For a moment, contentment welcomed her into the new day. Then she heard arguing downstairs and her consciousness came into full being. Last night Daniella Porter had made a scene, humiliated herself. She had stupidly thought the man who was on the cusp of inheriting a multi-million turnover investment business would be interested in her. She had foolishly mistaken his kindness for reciprocal love. How could she have been so blind for all of these years? They had been thrust together during their teenage years because of the proximity of their families’ summerhouses. That was all, in the harsh light of day she could see it now.

  Initially, she assumed the raised voices downstairs belonged to her parents. They rowed often. However, a third voice sparked her interest. The clear intonation of a Spanish accent that would haunt her forever. Franco Zorita. In her house. Not only that, but in her house shouting furiously. Peeling off the bed covers and pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead to dull the throbbing, she walked across the cool marble floor and listened closely through her door. The voices were coming from the bottom of the stairs but she couldn't make out what they were discussing. Opening the door a fraction she slid out and crept along the hallway. Franco sounded cross. What was wrong with him? First his cruelness to her the previous evening and now his rampage on her home this morning.

  'Is your family so desperate for money?' Franco bellowed, standing tall up against her father, who in comparison looked small and feeble. From her vantage point, sitting on the top stair, Daniella could see him waving a tablet in her fathers face. 'Is this what you and your daughter would stoop to?'

  'My daughter would never, ever, do such a thing, she's a good girl,' her mother interjected.

  Franco turned his glare onto her. 'You think so do you? Are we talking about the same Daniella who was drinking alcohol?'

  Her mother smarted. 'See? Richard? See?' She said to Daniella's father. 'Now we know he's talking nonsense, Daniella wouldn't touch alcohol. She's far too career orientated to fall down that rabbit warren.'

  'Exactly,' Franco spat. 'She's career driven. People in your daughters’ chosen profession will do anything to reach the dizzying heights of fame.'

  Daniella gasped and caused all three of them to turn in her direction. Franco's cold stare cut through her the most.

  'Here is the lady herself,' he said, his hard lips tilted to one side in disgust. 'Welcome to the life of a celebrity. You may well have your wish, you may well be the talk of every lowbrow gossip site this week but the moment will pass. And when it does, when you realise the consequences of your five minutes of fame, I will not be there to pick up the pieces for you, Daniella.'

  Daniella furrowed her brow. 'I have no idea what you're talking about, Franco.'

  'See,' her mother waved a hand at Franco. 'My daughter has no idea what it is you are talking about.'

  Without hesitation, he threw the tablet up to where she sat and, like a well-orchestrated act, she caught the clunky device. 'Google your name.'

  With fingers as weak as marshmallows, she punched in his password but didn't need to search for anything. As soon as the internet flashed onto the screen, she could see for herself. Streams and streams of news articles. Most of them featuring an image of her wrapped around Franco, kissing him passionately by the poolside. The headlines were evil, pure evil. The Zorita family exposed. Camera, Action, Sabotage. Buying the affections of young girls in return for fame. The Whore and the Beast.

  'I don't understand,' she whispered, her head spinning and a numbness descending upon her. 'How did they get this?'

  Franco forced a laugh. 'Don't play the innocent with me, Daniella! Like you told me last night, you're all grown up now. You can handle it. So handle it. Live with your actions.'

  'But Franco, I didn't do this.'

  'Read the articles, I think it's pretty obvious who the source is,' Franco turned to her father. 'I hope you're proud of yourself, Porter. Pimping your daughter out to salvage your own failing career.'

  'How dare you,' her mother hissed. 'My family are innocent of this, all of
this. The Porter family built their reputation on solid work ethic and you know that, Zorita. We have never come to your family for anything. We have never levied our friendship with your family for personal gain, and you know that. You know that!' Her mother voice hit fever pitch so Daniella knew this was bad. Really bad. Her mother, usually so full of grace, never raised her voice in the company of others. 'Will you say something, Richard? Defend yourself.'

  He didn't. Her father stood like a mute, not saying a word against the alpha male in his home tossing accusations around like they were Frisbees.

  'Oh for heaven's sake,' her mother despaired. 'Leave, Franco, just leave. We will get to the bottom of this and it will all come out in the wash, you'll see.'

  Daniella didn't remove her eyes from the screen, she kept scrolling through the pages, unable to process it all. 'I didn't do this,' she said but nobody listened. Nobody paid attention to her pleas of innocence. 'How did they? How could they? They don't even know me?'

  'Too late to cry now, child.' Franco looked up at her, his jaw pulsating and his fists clenched so tight his tanned knuckles appeared white. 'Now is the time to revel in your fame.' He turned and walked out the door. It was the last time she was to see Franco Zorita for ten years.

  Chapter One

  'You can't do it, Dad,' Daniella told her father. 'Mother would turn in her grave at the thought of you crawling to a Zorita for help.' She placed the branded sauce back on the shelf and instead opted to put the cheap one in her basket. Low salt, low sugar and organic would have to wait for another day.

  'I have no choice, Nella,' he answered. 'Besides, if your mother gave two hoots about what we were to do with our lives she would still be here today.'

  Daniella visibly flinched at her father's insinuation that her mother didn't care about them. She cared too much, about everything. That was why she was no longer with them.

  Richard Porter pulled his daughter close. 'I'm sorry, Nella,' he said kissing her hair. 'Can't you see? I'm desperate here. This could be my last chance.'