by Diane Louise
As if by magic, the office door flung open and Richard's voice infiltrated the thick silence.
'So sorry I'm late,' he said between heavy breaths. 'I grabbed a cab but realised I'd left my wallet at home so had to flag down a passer by who would settle the fare. Lucky for me a nice Islamic Imam was passing and took pity on me.' Richard strode in looking every bit as harassed as he sounded, leaving an aghast Anita in his wake. Daniella would have been amused by the PA's goldfish impression had she not been completely pissed off.
'I knew my girl would be here on time though.' He slapped Daniella on the back as a thanks before extending his hand out to shake Franco's. 'How are you doing mate, ten years is a long time.'
Franco lay his eyes on Richards's outstretched hand without flexing a single muscle to accept it. 'You are late, yes,' he said. 'We were about to enter business negotiations.'
Daniella glared at Franco. Business negotiations? She was beginning to think that he had lost his mind. Serious money could do that to a person. She should know. It had destroyed both her father and her mother. 'Actually, I was just leaving,' she announced, thrusting her bag over her shoulder. 'I'm sure Franco can afford another five minutes of his precious time for you.'
Richard stood in between Daniella and Franco, his eyes darting from one to the other. 'So, which is it?' He said. 'Negotiations or leaving?'
'Negotiations.' Franco said.
'Leaving.' Said Daniella.
Richard furrowed his brow.
'Definitely leaving.' Daniella finalised the conversation. Thank you for your time, Franco,' she said almost meaning it. 'I will speak to you this evening,' she said icily to her father.
Turning on her heels she steadily walked out of the office, aware that there were two pairs of eyes burning into her back and for a single moment she wished she'd worn her jeans, the dark blue ones, with the inbuilt ass lifting technology. As soon as the door closed and Daniella was confident she had maintained her composure for long enough she shrank into the wall for support. That was the most difficult thing she ever had to endure in her entire life. She never wanted to come face to face with Franco Zorita again.
It had been six hours since the surreal meeting. Daniella spent the day busying herself, trying to forget him. His eyes. His custom-made trousers. The bulge that those custom-made trousers failed to conceal. The sexy secretary he was most definitely screwing. Daniella wasn't stupid. She had heard how the woman spoke to him on the telephone earlier. Yes Franco, no Franco, anything for you Franco. The vixen's voice had oozed seductiveness, dripped with carnal promises. Daniella shivered. So what if he was dipping his wick there, she told herself for the billionth time that day. Whom Franco chose to spend his downtime with was none of Daniella's concern; she hadn't considered it before today, so there was no reason for it to become her dominating focus now. However, no matter how hard she worked, no matter how loud she played her music, or how many chocolate bon-bons she scoffed, she couldn't get those words out of her mind. I need a wife. And I do believe you are available.
Available? What was she? Some kind of hooker? It went to show what a chauvinist pig he had turned into. Daniella gripped harder on the pencil she held, causing her delicate strokes to become thick, harsher. Yes, Franco had somehow grown his family business from successful to fortuitous. Yes, he had a thicker neck, broader shoulders and a more defined jaw. Yes, he had women falling at his feet. Yes, he was insanely enigmatic. But that was no excuse for him to play with the emotions of a woman. Any woman. Especially Daniella. After all, she was only there to support her father. In addition, that was something else he seemed hell bent to mock, her loyalty to her father. How dare he? Did he hold no loyalties besides money? She held the pencil so tightly it snapped in two against the notepad.
'Bollocks!' She threw the broken pencil across the room. 'I hate today.' Standing up she shook out the pins and needles that had snuck into her lounge socks and walked towards the kitchenette. A good tidy up was in order. So, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves, she dove into tackling her pile of dishes first. Then, her doorbell buzzed.
'Go away,' she said to herself. It was bound to be her father. Nobody else would have the gall to knock on her door at this time of night unannounced. When the buzzer rattled through the otherwise silent apartment again, and again and again, she stormed over and ripped the handset from the holder. 'Will you please understand, I am angry at you and I will answer your calls when I'm ready.'
There was a momentary pause. 'Will a chauffeur driven car and five star meal settle your irritation?'
Franco.
She blinked several times then turned to take in the exact state of her apartment. Horrified by the presentation of her living space, she couldn't invite him in. 'What are you doing here, Franco?' Daniella tried to sound irked by his intrusion but the words came out too small.
'Taking you out for dinner.'
She swallowed, hard. 'I've already eaten.'
'Bingeing on junk does not count as eating, Daniella.'
How did he know the most nutritious thing she'd consumed that evening was honey on toast?
'Listen, people are beginning to size up my car, can you please grant me access?'
She released the lock then glanced in the hall mirror, hoping her personal presentation was better than that of her home. Nope, not much better at all. The entrance door swung open and her breath hitched when she saw Franco turning the corner. His stride confident as he navigated his way to her door. His frame all but filling the bland corridor. He had changed clothes, replacing his business attire with an evening suit; appearing even more immaculate than he had that afternoon, if that was at all possible. He stopped at her door, inches from where she spied on him, and tapped on the wood with his knuckle. Daniella stood straight and counted to ten before answering.
'What are you doing here?'
'Like I said,' Franco strode past and scanned the room before turning back to her. 'Dinner,' his eyes landed on her bright pink washing up gloves. 'Unless you have a better option?'
Daniella peeled the gloves from her hands. 'We don't all sit around waiting for old crushes to knock on our door late at night you know.' As soon as the words tripped off her tongue Daniella's entire core constricted. Did she describe Franco as an old crush? To his face? She flashed her eyes up to his face and shrank a couple of feet when she noted the amusement flickering on the corners of his lips. 'I didn't mean, well, you know,' she stammered. 'We were kids, she finally managed to say. 'Besides. How did you know where I live?'
'Your father.'
'Figures.' She turned and walked into the kitchenette, draping the gloves over the back of the upturned washing bowl she dropped her shoulders. 'He shouldn't have told you, I didn't give permission.'
'He would have told me the secret code to the crown jewels this afternoon, he was so desperate to make up for his tardiness,' Franco clapped his hands together. 'Anyway, there is plenty of time for talk. I'm taking you out to dinner. Go, dig out your best dress.'
Daniella glared at him over her shoulder. 'I haven't agreed to dinner!'
Franco rolled his eyes. 'Daniella Porter,' he said. 'Will you accompany me to dinner this evening?'
'I have nothing to wear,' she said crossing her arms, determined to portray her defiance.
'Please,' Franco said holding an open palm towards her. 'I do not do ritualistic dancing. Go and change, I will wait for you here.'
Daniella wasn't in the mood to fight. Flouncing past him she stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her like a petulant child. Flinging open her wardrobe she stomped her foot against the floor in frustration. What was she going to wear? Judging by Franco's ensemble, he planned on taking her somewhere dressy. 'Aha,' she said, pulling a purple dress from the back of the wardrobe. Admittedly, it was crumpled, but from memory the material clung tight enough to stretch out the wrinkles. Five minutes later Daniella had changed her underwear, but wasn't sure why, had slipped into the dress, slicked on some lip-gloss
and piled her hair back into a loose up do. She looked presentable enough, and to be honest, Franco couldn't expect any more than that from her.
Daniella slipped out of the bedroom and turned into the living room expecting to find Franco sitting on her sofa. Instead, he was standing at the kitchen sink, wearing her gloves, and doing the last of her dishes.
Franco turned and Daniella caught a flash of something in his expression, but it faded before she could register what it had been. 'I had to do something while I waited,' he explained. 'It was this or tidy your living space and this seemed like the least daunting task.'
'I was busy working when you swarmed on over,' she offered in way of an explanation.
'I see,' he took off the gloves. 'Your little theatre company, it keeps you busy most nights?'
Daniella smarted. Was there nothing this man didn't know about her? Nothing he wouldn't belittle? 'My little theatre company as you so crudely describe it is flourishing. We consistently filled the house for our last performance, an interpretation of Persephone, you would have enjoyed it.' She kicked herself for feeling the desperate need to explain herself to him, but she was proud of her group. The team worked hard together and she loved every single member.
'It's not how you expected your life to turn out though is it?' he asked cocking an eyebrow.
'My life and my job suit me fine,' she snapped.
'Of course it does. Shall we,' he offered his elbow and Daniella eyed it suspiciously before accepting.
Franco hadn't been wrong when he'd said the car was attracting attention. Then again, what did he expect parking a Rolls Royce outside an inner city apartment building. Daniella held her head low while the chauffeur opened her door and slipped inside as quickly as possible. She hoped none of her immediate neighbours spotted it was waiting for her. Curtains twitched a lot around here and jealousy of success always bubbled below the steady beat of jungle drums. Franco took a seat beside her and the driver pulled away, leaving a gaggle of intrigued teenagers gawping at them as they disappeared around the corner.
The journey was only short, walking distance in fact. Upon entering the tapas restaurant waiters and waitresses tripped over themselves to serve Franco. They were directed to a discreet nook where a table for two waited for them. It was the most fancy table Daniella had ever seen. Dressed to the nines with flickering candles and a single rose occupying a slim line vase. Sleek. Very sleek.
'The staff appear to like you,' Daniella said.
'I tip well,' Franco cast his eyes on the leather bound drinks list. 'What would you like to drink? I strongly recommend the Tempranillo.'
Daniella flicked her eyes across the wine menu, not recognising any of the offerings so went along with his suggestion. 'So you come here often.'
'Only with people who I am sure will appreciate good tapas.' He placed their order and the eager girl bowed slightly before backing away.
'Do people always treat you like royalty?' Daniella asked.
'Mainly.'
She rolled her eyes at his nonchalant attitude towards his obvious power. Franco took the liberty of ordering for them both and she happily to accepted his recommendations. At last, they were left alone. Good job too, because the electrified air between them should have carried a hazard warning.
'You didn't tell me I look nice,' she quipped, hoping to break the tension sizzling.
Franco tilted his head and took a long hard look at her for the first time since they arrived. He looked almost as though he did want to compliment her but then his expression hardened once more. 'I didn't have you down as the type of woman who swooned over clichéd compliments.'
She shrugged and took a sip of her water. 'What type of woman did you have me down as?'
'Now there's a loaded question.'
'Not really, I'm just making small talk. You were the one who railroaded me into a date.'
'Railroaded you? I didn't hear many protestations.'
He was correct. She hadn't been bullied into his fancy car or shoved blind folded into the restaurant.
'Besides, I wouldn't describe this as a date. I put a business proposition to you this afternoon and you chose to ignore it.' He swirled his wine glass around before taking a sip, his intense gaze resting on her and her only.
Daniella suddenly felt vulnerable. 'I'm sorry, Franco,' she said. 'I don't understand what you mean, business proposal?' She tried to play dumb but of course she heard what he said. His words had plagued her all day.
He placed his glass down but didn't remove his fingers from the stem. 'I'm prepared to invest in your father's screenplay.' He raised his eyes and looked at her through his thick lashes. 'It pains me to say this, but it is quite good and has potential.'
Her heart did a little skip. 'You think so? That's wonderful.'
'However, it will need an awful lot of input to make it a real success. I have contacts who can do that for him.'
'You do!' She exclaimed gleefully. 'Oh Franco, that would be marvellous, since mother,' she paused and examined her water glass. 'Since mother passed he has been trying so hard, Franco.' Daniella's vision blurred with joy at Franco's generous offer of help. It broke her heart watching her father try in vain to retrieve his career, and now, finally, he was on the cusp of it happening.
Franco nodded slightly but didn't appear to share her enthusiasm. 'However, as I mentioned in my office the offer of investment comes at a price.'
She wiped away the tear of joy that escaped her eye and took a sharp breath. The restaurant closed in around her as the realisation sank in that Franco's face carried a deadly serious look.
'I will do what I can to make the movie a success,' he said. 'In return you are to marry me and remain my bride for six months. At which point I will release all funds and call in some favours from old friends.'
Daniella licked her lips and swallowed. 'I don't understand,' she said. 'Why do you want to marry me?'
'My proposal is not a case of want,' he said. 'It's a case of need, and you owe me.'
His harsh answer stung Daniella in the chest. 'Need? She asked.
He leaned back in his chair. 'It appears my mother had a sense of humour.' His lips thinned. 'She stipulated in her will that I was to marry within six months of her passing or her lawyer will sign her shares in Zorita Holdings over to Verela Holdings.' He paused and watched Daniella, waiting for a spark of recognition regarding the other company's name, but she couldn't place it so he continued. 'Verela Holdings were the vultures circling when Zorita Holdings nearly folded ten years ago. You must remember them?'
He cocked his eyebrow and Daniella whipped her eyes away from his. Of course she remembered. How could she ever forget? Reading the articles posted online that dreadful day had been painful. Daniella recalled how they were laced not only with sinister accusations about her, but about Franco's family business. Stories he had told her in complete confidence. About corruption, sabotage, about how he hated how the Zoritas did business. Once he even said he wished the business would fail because it was so ugly. He had told Daniella and Daniella had told somebody else. That indiscretion cost her so much, cost him so much. His family business found itself on the brink of destruction so yes, she owed him. Big time.
'So for me, for your father, and for your own redemption,' he said pulling a small box from his blazer pocket. 'Will you marry me, Daniella Porter?'
Chapter Three
Daniella crashed into her company's rehearsal hall with a bang. Her arms laden with silk, lace, and feathers. The wedding couldn't have landed at a more inconvenient time for them all. The team were gearing up for the opening night of their new production, Moulin Rouge, and were pretty much working around the clock in preparation. At least she would only be out of action for the one day, she told herself, turn up, get married and leave. That was the deal they had negotiated. Although the whole affair needed to appear official and true because Franco didn't hold an ounce of trust for his mother's lawyer, who bizarrely appeared to possess every single card.
Tina, Moulin's Green Fairy, and the closest thing Daniella had to a best friend, approached to help. 'OMG!' She screeched, curdling Daniella's blood. 'What are you wearing?'
Daniella quickly cast her eyes across her simple outfit of jeans and t-shirt. 'The t-shirt's new but...'
'Not that,' Tina squawked pointing at Daniella's hand. 'That.'
Oh that. Daniella hadn't worn the gargantuan rock at all since accepting Franco's proposal. Firstly, it was so big it looked ridiculous on her finger, and secondly she wasn't engaged so saw no point in brandishing around expensive jewellery that technically wasn't hers. Franco and Daniella had attended a meeting with the wedding planner two days previously and she had forgotten to put the ring back on. Franco had chastised her, accusing her of attempting to sabotage the entire thing. Reminding her what was at stake if she did and instructing that she was to wear the ring at all times. In his opinion, most women would have given their hind teeth to own a stone like that, so she reluctantly agreed to wear the bloody thing until the wedding day. Which was fast approaching.
'Have you been keeping secrets from us?' Tina cooed.
'No, no, not at all...'
Tina squealed again and Daniella recoiled. As much as she cared for her colleague, she wished she would be a little less excitable.
'Our eternally single Daniella. Engaged!' Tina displayed an exaggerated pout. 'I do wish you'd confide in me from time to time, we must throw an engagement party.'
Great, just what Daniella wanted, more fuss over this stupid wedding. 'There is no need Tina, I... I mean we, we are having an understated ceremony...'
Before she had an opportunity do douse water over Tina's excitement, a commotion behind Daniella's shoulder grabbed not only Tina's, but everybody's, attention. Tina's body language changed, the woman stood taller and thrust out her chest. Daniella's heart sank. She had seen that reaction from women before. Usually it was when Franco was around.
She was correct. He was swaggering towards her, his security team hot on his tail. But Franco was the one all eyes laid on. Walking with a confidence men like him must learn in secret lessons at school. 'What are you doing here?' She asked as he drew her close. 'I thought we agreed, my workplace is out of bounds, you're going to attract attention.'