Temporarily Hitched : A second chance fake marriage romance

by Diane Louise

  Pulling herself away, she glanced around the supermarket aisle to ensure nobody witnessed the public display of affection before turning her attention back to her father. She looked into his sunken eyes; black rimmed from years of trying to claw back something resembling a career, and pity overruled concern. The rugged looks that shot him to stardom during his youth were still there but masked by fatigue. A fatigue that was partially her fault.

  She tilted the corners of her lips upwards in an attempt to smile at the man in front of her. 'Are you sure you've tried everything?'

  'Absolutely sure.'

  'And you are convinced this screenplay is the best you have ever produced?'

  'If I wasn't I wouldn't be visiting your friend Franco for investment.'

  Daniella's mood darkened. 'He is not my friend,' she said. 'He's just a man who I used to know because of geography. That is all.'

  Her father flashed her a knowing look but she turned her back to him and resumed her shopping. The last thing she wanted to reveal to her father were the feelings discussing that man roused from deep within. Every time Franco Zorita crossed her mind she rode a wave of never changing emotions, and unfortunately, he crossed her mind on an extremely regular basis.

  'Fine,' she said. 'If there's nothing else I can say to discourage you, go ahead. Promise me though that you'll not fall apart if he refuses to help. You do remember what happened in Spain, don't you?'

  Her father grinned and placed his arm over her shoulder and she shrunk away. 'Please, Dad. You know I hate that.'

  He let her go as requested, knowing his Daniella was not a fan of public displays of affection. 'There's one more thing,' he said.

  'Oh.' Daniella said. Certain that nothing could be more of a shock than her father's intentions to meet with Franco Zorita that afternoon.

  'It's just that, he had conditions.'

  'Oh?'

  'He demanded you be present.'

  Daniella spun around, crashing her basket into a passer by. She apologised to the woman before turning to her father. 'Excuse me?'

  Her father shifted imaginary dirt around the floor with his shoe. 'Franco's PA said he would only see me this afternoon if I brought you along,' he mumbled.

  'Please tell me you are joking?' She said running her hand through her hair. 'You agreed? You thought that would be a good idea?'

  'This is my last chance, Nella.'

  'Why do I need to be there?' She demanded, ignoring his puppy dog eyes. 'Why?'

  Her father shrugged. 'She couldn't say, but if you refused to come then he refused to set time aside for me. Please, Nella. I don't ask for much from you...'

  She cocked an eyebrow at him and he understood. Since his career halted and her mother died, their roles reversed. Daniella became his carer, nursing him through alcohol withdrawal, encouraging him to never give up on himself, even when everybody in their previous, more glittery life, had.

  'Ok, fine,' he held his hands up in defeat. 'You've done so much for me, Daniella, and for that I am grateful. If you do this one last little favour for me and it all works out, then you will be free of me and able to commit yourself 100% to your own career.'

  'I have a career.'

  'A more serious career.' Richard ignored his daughter's roll of eyes. 'A few minutes out of your day, that's all I'm asking of you.'

  Her father was asking an awful lot more of her than just a few minutes out of her day. He expected her to enter the lions’ den. To open wounds that still had not healed, even after ten years. Her father may have forgotten the look of disgust Franco had fired at her when he stormed out of their summer home that morning, but she had not. Maybe it was time she found the courage to face him, maybe take the opportunity to apologise for what she did all those years ago. If her father could find the courage to go to him, then maybe she should too. 'Fine,' she said. 'I'll come. But I am not staying in the same room as that man for more than half an hour so your pitch better be prepared.'

  Richard moved in to hug his daughter but held back. 'Thank you, sweetheart,' he beamed. 'You've made the right decision.'

  Daniella wasn't so sure though. Something deep in her gut was warning her to stay the hell away from Franco Zorita.

  Standing at the foot of the most domineering office tower Daniella had ever seen, she scrutinised the long list of business names that occupied the hundreds of floors. Her jaw hung slack when she realised Zorita Holdings held five of them. This was just his London office. Franco was the CEO of a business spanning multiple countries. She'd never been one to follow the business news, but some evil twist ensured that whenever she did catch snippets of the business hour, or glanced at the business pages, Zorita Holdings featured in the story of the day. His wealth must be unimaginable she thought, as she pressed the buzzer for access to the ground floor reception.

  Once she'd passed through security, which was tighter than most airports, she collected her belongings and thrust her five-year-old handbag over her shoulder. Standing tall she tried to fit in with the polished interior but knew she failed. The women scurrying too and fro in their power suits and killer heels eyed her up and down, probably wondering who let the cleaning team in during business hours. She tried to blank them out and took the short walk to the lift as time to compose herself. He may be wealthy, and he may be powerful, but Franco was still the same boy she grew up with. So, she told herself. By the time the doors pinged open on his floor her nerves were in tatters and for the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to break out into a cold sweat.

  The receptionist raised a painted on eyebrow as Daniella crept towards the desk. 'Good morning, Madam,' she sing-songed. 'How can I help you this afternoon?'

  Daniella cleared her throat. 'Daniella Porter. I'm here to meet with Franco Zorita,' she said, the words coming out far more husky than she intended.

  The receptionist smiled thinly at her. 'One minute please.'

  Waiting for the receptionist to announce her arrival, Daniella scanned the impressive reception area and strained to hear what the voice on the other end said. If she was lucky, there could still be a chance Franco would have second thoughts about seeing them and dismiss her straight away. That would do the job of saving her from the pain of having to face him once again. A girl could, after all, wish.

  'You can go on through,' the receptionist said, far too positively for Daniella's liking. 'Take the lift opposite the one you arrived in to the fifth floor and his PA will meet you there.'

  'Thank you,' Daniella said then paused. 'I don't suppose my father's here yet, is he?' He had agreed to meet her here and she was beginning to get a little scratchy that he hadn't materialised.

  'No,' the receptionist said. 'You are the only visitor on site this afternoon.'

  Daniella's mouth formed an 'o' shape as she glanced at the oversized clock on the otherwise blank wall. Five to three. Only five minutes before the allocated appointment time. Where the hell was he? It was common knowledge her father could be tardy, a basic disrespect for other people's time was one of reasons work started to dry up for him, but he wouldn't be late for this. She recalled his eyes earlier that day, he so desperately wanted, no needed, this meeting to be a success. Daniella swallowed down her concerns and decided to go straight on up.

  Another glamorous woman greeted Daniella when the doors opened on the floor of Franco's office; did Franco have an attractiveness clause in his recruitment policy? At least this woman's smile was genuine. It helped to take a slither off of Daniella's mounting anxiety.

  'Good afternoon,' she said. 'I shall take you to Mr Zorita's suite now. Follow me.'

  Suite. What was wrong with an office? The woman lead Daniella down a long narrow corridor with doors to meeting rooms all down one side. Daniella focused on taking in her surroundings instead of ogling the pristine appearance of his PA. Her legs went on for miles and office wear that straddled the line of provocative shrouded her tiny physique. Daniella wondered if Franco was dating her. If he was the type of man
who dated his staff, or just took them to bed. She recalled vividly how ruggedly handsome he was. How his sinewy back muscles danced under his tanned skin as he dived into the crystal clear waters of the lake near where they whiled away sunny afternoons in Pozuelo. Of course women would trip up over bedposts willingly for a man like him. She shook the thoughts of a naked Franco taking advantage of doe eyed secretaries out of her mind. It wasn't fair of Daniella to cast judgements about a man she hadn't seen for so long. He was a chivalrous male back then and she had no cause to think he had changed. Although his business had an awful lot of media coverage, the man himself never did. He had developed a reputation for being the most elusive CEO in a business the size of Zorita Holdings. Franco was a mystery to the media as much as he was a stranger to her now. People never change that much. Or did they? She certainly had.

  His PA stopped in front of the door at the end of the corridor. She lay her manicured hand on the handle of the whitewashed door and Daniella watched it twist, seemingly in slow motion, to gain access to the office it concealed. The door slowly opened and she braced herself in the same way a driver would brace for impact with another vehicle. Every single one of her muscles coiled so tightly they began to hurt and her conscious became aware of every inch of her body, even the tips of her fingers.

  'Mr Zorita.' The PA said in a voice so self-assured Daniella wanted to morph into her. 'Daniella Porter has arrived to meet with you.'

  'Thank you, Anita. Please show her in.'

  Anita stood to one side and gestured for Daniella to enter, her smile not sliding off her face, even as Daniella hesitated for a few moments. It was only when the smile began to appear forced that Daniella snapped herself into action and stepped inside the office of Franco Zorita.

  There he was. Larger than life and seated behind an even larger black desk with a spotlessly polished surface. The room was minimalist, with the desk only housing a single laptop, a lamp and a coaster on which to sit his coffee. At least she assumed he still drank coffee. All other fixtures and fittings in the room were a blur as her vision settled on the man she hadn't seen for ten years. Still ruggedly handsome. His dark hair shorter than before. She loved the way it fell over his face when they were kids, giving him a wild edge. Now he was nothing short of groomed. She noted how his skin, still tanned, glowed against the crisp whiteness of his pristine shirt. She couldn't see his legs, but would have put money on his trousers being tailored to perfection and his shoes shining like the desk that created a barrier between them.

  'Are you going to stand by the door for the entire meeting?' he snapped. The Spanish lilt that once upon a time turned her insides to mush enveloped her once more. 'Come. Sit,' he ordered.

  With a small nod, she peeled her feet off the floor one at a time and forced her legs to carry her to the seat opposite Franco. Without uttering a word, she sat and clamped her clammy hands together on her lap, casting her eyes downwards.

  'Your father? Where is he?' Franco spoke again.

  'He'll be here in a moment,' she said. 'He called me to apologise and explain that he will be with us shortly.' Daniella bit down on her lip the moment the lie left her mouth.

  Franco hummed knowingly, the corners of his lips upturned in amusement. His obvious disbelief in her lie caused Daniella's body temperature to soar. She tried to ignore the rash forming on her chest where his dark eyes fell.

  'You still blush when you lie,' he remarked. 'It was something I always found cute about you.'

  His observation only accelerated the flushing of her skin, causing her to squirm in her seat. They sat together in silence waiting for Richard to arrive, the only sound punctuating the heavy air was the ticking of a clock she couldn't see. Scanning the room, looking at anything and everything she could to avoid making eye contact with Franco, she silently willed her father to hurry up. The entire time her heightened senses were more than aware that Franco didn't peel his eyes away from her once.

  'Why do you defend him?' he finally asked.

  She looked at Franco and opened her mouth to answer him but promptly closed it again. He was correct. Why did she? Because she loved him. Her father, although flawed, was a talented man who deserved more.

  'How late did he say he was going to be again?'

  Daniella steeled herself to lie again. 'Just a few minutes, that is all.'

  Franco pointedly looked towards the wall behind her and she turned her head. There was that blasted clock. Telling them both that the time was now five minutes past three.

  'He has missed his opportunity. Please, wish your father my luck and every success.' Franco rested his square jaw on his fist and returned his attention to the laptop screen. 'Now, can you kindly allow me to resume managing my business?'

  Daniella's heart sank into the pit of her stomach. 'I'm sorry, Franco, something serious must have happened. When I spoke to him today he desperately wanted to meet with you. Please can we give him five more minutes?' she pleaded. 'Or reschedule for another day.'

  Without taking his eyes from the laptop Franco speed dialled his PA and the weight of Daniella's heavy heart sitting on her stomach lightened a little.

  'Anita, I need a favour please.' he said when her velvety voice greeted him. 'Can you confirm when my next available appointment time is, 30 minutes will suffice?'

  Without hesitation, she answered. 'You'd be looking at three o'clock again, twelve weeks from today.'

  Daniella's heart piled on a tonne of weight.

  'I could reschedule your Friday morning meeting, sir,' she added helpfully.

  'Thank you Anita but don't put yourself out.' He lay his eyes back on Daniella and his mouth quirked into a smile of sorts. 'It's not worth it.'

  'Very well, sir.' Anita said. 'Will there be anything else?'

  'No, nothing at all, take yourself home early, you've been exemplary today.' He cut off the call and sat back in his chair; weaving his fingers together, he rested them behind his head. 'Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a personal appointment with me, Ms Porter?'

  Daniella suddenly found herself transported back to the single time she was sent to the head masters office at school. Much like that occasion, when Misty had snuck drugs into the dormitory, it was not her fault. And Just like that time, she felt backed into a corner and unable to defend herself.

  'Yes, I am aware,' she muttered towards the floor. 'I am truly, very sorry.'

  Franco nodded.

  'Can I just say though, I have no doubt he has been held up by matters out of his control.'

  'I recall that nothing was ever your father’s fault.'

  Daniella shot her face up and shook her head. Franco remembered her father during a different period of his life, when Richard was having a hard time adjusting to some major changes in his career. 'He's changed, Franco,' she argued. 'The years have made him humble.'

  'So, he's lost his edge,' Franco turned her words around. 'Why would I want to invest in somebody who has no fight left in him?'

  'No, no, no,' she blurted out. 'That's not what I mean at all, I mean he's prepared to take responsibility for himself now...'

  Franco leaned forward in his chair and Daniella squirmed on her seat. Although only small, the reduced distance between them caused her core to contract inexplicably. 'This is how he takes responsibility is it? By sending his daughter to fight his case? I assume you have copy of the screenplay with you?'

  She shook her head.

  'Have you read it though?'

  She shook her head again.

  'So how do you know if what he has produced is of sufficient quality to warrant my investment?'

  'I just do. He has talent.'

  'Had talent,' Franco corrected. 'He had talent.'

  Daniella prickled at his harsh words. 'Why did you agree to meet him, Franco?' She found the bravery to ask. 'If you have no intention of investing, why did you put aside some of your precious time? To gloat? What?'

  Franco smirked. 'I have every intention of investing.'
>
  Daniella blinked. 'You do?'

  His smile reached his eyes, the same eyes that had glared at her with hate ten years ago, but this time danced with amusement. For a moment Daniella relaxed into them. 'There is something I want in return.'

  'Oh?'

  'I need a wife. And I do believe you are available.'

  Chapter Two

  He needs a wife and she was available. What was that supposed to mean?

  Daniella closed her eyes and shook her head as if to clear her ears of imaginary water. Had she heard that correctly? Did Franco Zorita just propose?

  'Excuse me?' she said.

  Franco's smile spread across his face, prominently displaying his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. 'No, excuse me.' He stood and walked to where Daniella sat in a daze, leaning against the desk beside her he folded his arms. Daniella had been correct to assume his shoes were as polished as the furniture on which he now perched, merely inches from her, so close it was somewhat intimidating, not to mention electrifying. 'I should have been more considered with my words.'

  Damn right he should have been she thought inching her chair away. 'So I did misunderstand,' she said. 'In that case, maybe I should...'

  She leaned forward to collect her bag but he placed a strong hand on her shoulder preventing her from standing. Her muscles in the shoulder where his touch lingered sighed, and the muscles in her other appeared to coil with jealousy.

  'No,' he said. 'Stay.'

  Much to her body's dismay Daniella shrugged his hand away. 'I'm sorry, Franco,' she said. 'I'm far too long in the tooth for pathetic games. I shall make sure my father contacts you to discuss investment. I'm sure he can wait.' She stood from her seat and backed away, her eyes looking in every direction except for Franco's. She needed to get out of there. Pronto. Once upon a time, fantasies of Franco discussing marriage dominated her thoughts. Franco knew that, which was why she feared he was playing a cruel, cruel game and she had to escape before her heart shattered into pieces. Again.