by Teri Wilson
“Explain myself?” He climbed out of bed, strode toward her and picked up the pile of Egyptian cotton at her feet. Pausing ever so briefly to admire her magnificent breasts, he wrapped the sheet around her shoulders and covered her again.
Her cheeks went pink. “Thank you.” For a brief second, he saw a hint of tenderness in her gaze. Then it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “You heard me. I can’t believe I even have to ask this question, but why does everyone on planet Earth suddenly think I’m going to marry you?”
He sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders, a sliver of relief working its way through him when she didn’t pull away. He reminded himself the engagement was a sham. Their whole relationship was a sham. None of this should matter.
“Because I told them we’re engaged.”
“Oh, my God, I knew it.” She began to tremble all over.
Franco slid his hands down her arms, took her hands in his and pulled her close. “No need to panic, Wildfire. It’s nothing. Just part of the ruse.”
A spark of something flared low in his gut. Something that felt far too much like disappointment. He’d never imagined he would one day find himself consoling a woman so blatantly horrified at the idea of being his betrothed. The fact that the woman was Diana Drake made it all the more unsettling.
She wiggled out of his grasp and began to pace around the spacious bedroom. The white bedsheet trailed behind her like the train on a wedding gown. “What were you thinking? I can’t believe this.”
She took a break from her tirade to regard him through narrowed eyes. For a moment, Franco thought she might slap him. Again. “Actually, I can. I don’t know why I thought I could trust you. About anything.”
He nearly flinched. But he knew he had no right.
As mornings after went, this one wasn’t stellar. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen after last night. The line between truth and lies had blurred so much he couldn’t quite think straight, much less figure out whatever was happening between him and Diana. But he was certain about one thing—he’d seen the same fury in her gaze once before.
Of course he remembered what he’d said. He’d regretted the words the instant they’d slipped from his mouth.
He’d known he needed to do something dire the moment he’d woken up beside her, all those years ago. She’d looked too innocent, too beautiful with her dark hair fanned across his chest. Too damned happy.
Strangely enough, he’d felt almost happy, too. Sated. Not in a sexual way, but on a soul-deep level he hadn’t experienced before. It had frightened the hell out of him.
He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Never would. It wasn’t in his blood. Franco had never even known who his father was, for crying out loud. As a kid, he’d watched a string of men come in and out of his mother’s life. In and out of her bed. When the men were around, his mother was all smiles and laugher. Once they’d left—and they always left...eventually—the tears came. Days passed, sometimes weeks, when his mother would forget to feed him. Franco had gotten out the first chance he had. He’d been on his own since he was eleven years old. As far as he knew, his mother had never come looking for him.
He wouldn’t know how to love a woman even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. If his upbringing had taught him anything, it was that self-reliance was key. He didn’t want to need anyone. And he most definitely didn’t want anyone needing him. Especially not a diamond heiress who’d opened her eyes three years ago and suddenly looked at him as if he’d hung the moon.
He’d done what he’d needed to do. He’d made certain she’d never look at him that way again.
Come now, Diana. We both know last night didn’t mean anything. It was nice, but I prefer my women more experienced.
She’d had every right to slap him. He’d deserved worse.
“You can breathe easy. I have no intention of actually marrying you,” he said.
“Good.” She laughed again. Too lively. Too loud.
“Good,” he repeated, sounding far harsher than he intended.
What exactly was happening?
He didn’t want to hurt her. Not this time.
“What you fail to understand is that I don’t want to be engaged to you, either.” She held up a hand to stop him from talking, and the sheet slipped again, just enough to afford him a glimpse of one, rose-hued nipple.
His body went hard again. Perfect. Just perfect.
Diana glanced down at him, then back up. There wasn’t a trace of desire in her eyes this time. “I can’t talk to you about this while you’re naked. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen.”
She flounced away, leaving Franco alone in a room that throbbed with memories.
He shoved his legs into his tuxedo pants from the night before and splashed some water on his face in the bathroom. When he strode into the kitchen, he found her standing at the coffeemaker, still dressed in the bedsheet. Lulu was frolicking at her feet, engaged in a fierce game of tug-of-war with a corner of the sheet. The dog didn’t even register his presence. Clearly, the two of them had bonded, just as he’d hoped. He should have been happy. Instead, he felt distinctly outnumbered.
Diana poured a steaming cup, and Franco looked at it longingly.
She glanced at him, but didn’t offer him any.
Not that he’d expected it.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She lifted a brow. “For what, exactly?”
For everything.
He sighed. “I should have given you a heads-up.”
Her expression softened ever so slightly. “You tried.”
“I could have tried harder.” He took a step closer and caught a glimpse of his reflection—moody and blue—in the sapphire still hanging around her neck.
She backed up against the counter, maintaining the space between them. “Just tell me why. I need to know.”
A muscle flexed in Franco’s jaw. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have the morning after they’d slept together. Or ever, to be honest. “My chances of getting back on the Kingsmen will be much greater if I’m engaged.”
She blinked. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Don’t make me explain it. He gave her a look of warning. “It matters. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” She set her coffee cup on the counter and crossed her arms. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“For the record, it would be even better if we were married.” What was he saying? He was willing to go pretty far to get his job back, but not that far.
Diana gaped at him. “I can’t believe this. You’re a polo player, not a priest. What does your marital status have to do with anything...” Her eyes grew narrow. “Unless...oh, my God...”
Franco held up his hands. “I can explain.”
But he couldn’t. Not in any kind of way that Diana would find acceptable. Even if he broke his promise to Luc and told her the truth, she’d never believe him. Not in this lifetime.
“You did something bad, didn’t you? Some kind of terrible sexual misconduct.” She fiddled with the stone around her neck, and Franco couldn’t help but notice the way her fingers trembled. He hated himself a little bit right then. “Go ahead and tell me. What was it? Did you sleep with someone’s wife this time?”
He looked at her long and hard.
“You did,” she said flatly. The final sparks of whatever magic had happened between them the night before vanished from her gaze. All Franco could see in the depths of her violet eyes was hurt. And thinly veiled hatred. “How could I be such an idiot? Again? Who was it?”
Less than an hour ago, she’d been asleep with her head on his chest as their hearts beat in unison. How had everything turned so spectacularly to crap since then?
A grim numbness blossomed in Franco’s chest. He knew exactly w
hat had gone wrong. The past had found its way into their present.
Didn’t it always?
He’d written the script of this conversation years ago.
He wanted to sweep her hair from her face and force her to look him in the eye so she could see the real him. He wanted to take her back to bed and whisper things he’d never told anyone else as he pushed his way inside her again.
He wanted to tell her the truth.
“It was Natalie Ellis,” he said quietly.
“Ellis? As in Jack Ellis?” She pulled the bedsheet tighter around her curves, much to Franco’s dismay. “You had an affair with your boss’s wife? That’s despicable, Franco. Even for you. You must think I’m the biggest fool you’ve ever met.”
“I’m the fool,” he said.
She shook her head. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t be nice to me right now. Please.”
“Diana...”
Before he could say another word, the cell phone in the pocket of his tuxedo pants chimed with an incoming text message.
Damn it.
Diana rolled her eyes. Lulu barked at the phone in solidarity. “Go ahead. Look at it. It’s probably from one of your married girlfriends. Don’t let me stand in your way.”
Franco didn’t make a move. Whoever was texting him could wait.
His phone chimed again.
Diana glared at him. “You disgust me, Franco. And I swear, if you don’t answer that right now, I’m going to reach into your pocket and do it for you.”
Franco sighed and looked at the phone’s display.
See you at practice today at 10 sharp. Come ready to play. Don’t be late.
The engagement announcement had worked. He was back on the team.
And back on Diana’s bad side.
She hated him.
Again.
Chapter Fourteen
Diana didn’t bother returning Artem’s call. Instead, she decided to get dressed and go straight to Drake Diamonds and explain things in person.
But there was no actual explanation, was there? She was engaged. Pretend engaged, but still. Engaged.
She had no idea what she was going to say to her brother. If she admitted she’d known nothing about the engagement, it would look like she’d lost control over her own public image. And as VP of public relations, the Drake image was pretty much the one thing she was responsible for. On the other hand, if she pretended she’d known all about the faux engagement, Artem would be furious that she’d kept him in the dark. It was a catch-22. Either way, she was screwed.
She had to face him sooner or later, though. She desperately wanted to get it over with. Maybe she’d go ahead and tell him he’d been right. The charade had gone too far. She should end it. The Lambertis would walk away, of course. And she’d never be co-CEO. She might not even be able to keep her current position. Artem had told her she’d proven herself, but that had been before the engagement fiasco. Who knew what would happen if she broke up with her fake boyfriend now? She could end up right back in the Engagements department.
But that would be better than having to walk around pretending she was going to get married to Franco, wouldn’t it?
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
The only thing she knew for certain was that she shouldn’t have slept with him the night before. How could she have been so monumentally stupid? She deserved to be fired. She’d fire herself if she could.
He’d carried on an affair with a married woman. That was a new low, even for a playboy like Franco. And it made him no different than her father.
So, of course she’d jumped into bed with him. God, she hated herself.
“Is he in?” she asked Mrs. Barnes, glancing nervously at the closed office door. What was her brother doing in there? He rarely kept his door closed. He was probably throwing darts at the wedding page of the Times. Or possibly interviewing new candidates for the VP of public relations position. She shook her head. “Never mind, I know he wants to see me. I’m going in.”
“Wait!” Mrs. Barnes called after her.
It was too late, though. Diana had already flung Artem’s door open and stormed inside. Artem sat behind his desk, just as she’d expected. But he wasn’t alone. Carla and Don Lamberti occupied the two chairs opposite him. Ophelia was also there, standing beside the desk with what looked like a crystal baseball.
The diamond.
It was even larger than Diana had imagined. She paused just long enough to take in its impressive size and to notice the way it reflected light, even in its uncut state. It practically glowed in Ophelia’s hands.
All four heads in the office turned in her direction.
Any and all hopes she had of sneaking out the door unnoticed were officially dashed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She practically ran out of the office, but of course she wasn’t fast enough.
“Diana, what a nice surprise!” The brightness of Carla Lamberti’s smile rivaled that of her diamond.
Diana forced a smile and cursed the four-inch Jimmy Choos that had prevented her speedy getaway. Why, oh why, had she worn stilettos?
Probably because there had been a dozen paparazzi following her every move all day, thanks to Franco’s little engagement announcement. The doorman had warned her about the crowd of photographers gathered outside her building before she’d left the apartment. If her picture was going to be splashed on the front page of every newspaper in town, she was going to look decent. Especially considering that Franco’s walk of shame out of her building earlier in the morning had already turned up on no less than four websites.
Not only had she made the terrible mistake of sleeping with him, but now everyone with a Wi-Fi connection knew all about it.
“It looks like you’re busy. I just needed to talk to Artem, but it can wait.” She turned and headed for the door.
“Don’t be silly. Join us. We insist. Right, Mr. Drake?” Carla glanced questioningly at Artem, who nodded his agreement. “I want to hear all about your engagement to Mr. Andrade. I can’t seem to pry a word out of your brother.”
The older woman turned to face Diana again. Behind her back, Artem crooked a finger at Diana, then pointed to the empty place on his office sofa.
Okay, then. Diana took a deep breath, crossed the room and sat down.
“So, tell us everything. As I said, Artem won’t breathe a word about your wedding.” Carla cast a mock look of reprimand in Artem’s direction.
Your wedding.
Diana did her best not to vomit right there on the Drake-blue carpet.
Ever the diplomat, Ophelia jumped into the conversation. “I’m sure Diana and Franco would like to keep some things private. It’s more special that way, don’t you think?”
Diana released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She owed Ophelia. Big-time.
Mr. Lamberti rested a hand on his wife’s knee. “Goodness, dear. Leave Diana alone. She’s here to join our meeting about the plans for the diamond, not to discuss the intimate details of her personal life.”
Carla let out a laugh and shrugged. “I suppose that’s true. Please pardon my manners. I was just so excited to read about your engagement in the paper this morning. I knew from the moment I saw you and Franco together at the Harry Winston party that you were destined to be together. The way that man looks at you...”
Her voice drifted off, and she sighed dreamily.
Artem cleared his throat. “Shall we proceed with the meeting? Ophelia has drawn up some beautiful designs for the stone.”
“Of course. Just one more question. I promise it’s the last one.” Mrs. Lamberti’s gaze shifted once again to Diana. She prayed for the sofa to somehow open itself up and swallow her whole, but of course it d
idn’t. “It’s true, isn’t it? Are you and Mr. Andrade really engaged to be married?”
This was the opening she’d been waiting for. She could end the nonsensical charade right here and now, and she’d never even have to set eyes on Franco again. All she had to do was say no. The papers had made a mistake. She and Franco weren’t engaged. In fact, they were no longer seeing each other. The Lambertis would obviously be disappointed, but surely they wouldn’t pack up their diamond and leave.
Would they?
Diana swallowed. Do it. Just do it.
Why was she hesitating? This was her chance to get her life back. It was now or never. If she didn’t fess up, she’d be stuck indefinitely as Franco’s fiancée.
Speak now or forever hold your peace.
She was already thinking in terms of wedding language. Perfect. She may as well climb right into a Vera Wang.
She glanced from the Lambertis to Artem to Ophelia. This would have been so much easier without an audience. And without that ridiculously huge diamond staring her in the face. It was blinding. Which was the only rational explanation for the next words that came out of her mouth.
“Of course it’s true.” She smiled her most radiant, bridal grin. “We’re absolutely engaged.”
* * *
All the way to Bridgehampton, Franco waited for the other shoe to drop. He fully expected to arrive at practice only to be ousted again. The moment he’d left Diana’s apartment, she’d no doubt picked up the phone and called every newspaper in town to demand a retraction.
He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that she hadn’t. His cell phone sat on the passenger seat of his Jag, conspicuously silent.
He arrived at the Kingsmen practice field at ten sharp just as instructed, despite having to break a few traffic laws to get there on time. He still hadn’t heard a word from Diana when he climbed out of his car and tossed his cell into the duffel bag that carried his gear.
He needed to quit worrying about her. About the two of them. Especially since they weren’t an actual couple.
It had only been hate sex.