Breathless in Bollywood

by Marsh, Nicola

  Jarryd usually censored any jealousy when talking about their father with Rory, but this time he must’ve let something slip because Rory stiffened.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” The lie sounded hollow and he knew Rory wouldn’t let it go. “What do you want me to say? That you’re the golden boy and Dad always favored you? There. I’ve said it. Happy?”

  Stricken, Rory reached out then let his arm fall to his side. “That’s not true—”

  “Cut the bullshit. We both know it is,” Jarryd said, swiping a hand over his face and wishing he’d never opened his big mouth. “Look, it’s okay. I made peace with the fact a long time ago. But it bugs the hell out of me that you waltz in whenever you feel like it and think you know it all.”

  Rory took a step back and propped against the wall. “Dad and I have more in common, that’s all. He’s always been proud of you too—”

  “He will be, once I restore this hotel back to its former glory.” Jarryd shook his head at his clueless brother. “You don’t get it, do you? The only reason I’m here in Mumbai is because Dad asked me to. I could be making a fortune on a new housing development in Manila but I delegated because I thought that for once, if I did a good job on the Baron Hotel here, I’d get some sliver of recognition from Dad…”

  Jarryd trailed off, wishing he hadn’t let the truth slip, when Rory stared at him, horror-struck.

  “Forget I said anything, let’s go get a beer.” Jarryd tried to stalk past Rory but his brother’s arm shot out and clamped onto his bicep.

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything before?”

  “What good would it have done?” Jarryd shrugged off his brother’s hand. “Come on, I’ll fill you in on the hotel.”

  Thankfully, Rory let it slide as he fell into step beside him. “And fill me in on Desiree?”

  “Not a hope in hell, bro,” Jarryd said, mostly because he didn’t have a clue what to say.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Desiree spent the day delegating jobs to painters, carpenters and plasterers. Supervising their work. Making calls to suppliers. Ensuring that the first six rooms would be ready to unveil next week.

  Throwing herself into work empowered her in a way nothing else could. Seeing her plans come to fruition. The changes she’d visualized morphing into reality before her eyes.

  Work also served to keep her mind focused, with no time to rehash this morning and the conversation she’d had with Jarryd. They may have avoided the awkward morning-after but she was no clearer as to where their relationship stood.

  She may have trotted out the trite line ‘let’s see how this goes’ but it wasn’t enough for her. Because she knew all too well how ‘this’ would go. They’d continue faking it in public, Jarryd would be all too happy to have sex in private. And she’d be the ultimate loser in their arrangement, left feeling empty and used when their deal ended.

  The way she saw it, she had two options. Continue as they were or walk away. She had a major client waiting in the works, a boutique hotel chain who’d heard she was decorating for the Baron corporation and had approached her to do their ten hotels around India once she’d finished here.

  It was a dream job and looked like her stint here had served its purpose, to build a name for her fledgling business. But she’d made an agreement with Jarryd and she wouldn’t walk away, not until she’d paid her dues.

  She wasn’t her mother.

  Thoughts of Sushma soured her mood further and she spent the next thirty minutes inspecting and criticizing and being a general pain in the ass, if the workers’ expressions were anything to go by.

  When the foreman tactfully suggested she take an afternoon tea break, she stomped to her office, flung herself into her chair and closed her eyes.

  She opened them to find Jarryd staring at her with concern.

  “You feeling okay?”

  “Fine,” she snapped, wincing when his gaze turned wary. “Sorry, been a long day, but the team have achieved so much. I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”

  “Great,” he said, not moving from the doorway. “Just popped by to let you know Rory’s in town so we’re hanging out tonight.”

  “Have fun.” She managed to sound churlish and sarcastic at the same time and his eyebrow rose. “Just go. I need to head home, have a long shower and kick back with a masala chai and a bowl of my favorite mutton biryani.”

  “Sounds good, especially the long shower part.” His eyes darkened to indigo, lust making her breath catch. “You know I’d rather be hanging out with you, right?”

  Desiree didn’t know. In fact, she had no freaking clue what was happening between them but she forced a smile anyway.

  “How often do you get to spend time with your brother?”

  “Rarely.”

  “Then there’s your answer.” She shooed him away. “Go.”

  He hesitated, his expression uncertain. “We could always catch up later?”

  “You mean a booty call?”

  He flinched at her blunt assessment of the situation. “Well, when you put it like…”

  She stood, tired of pretending: for the cameras, for the dating convention, for this man. “You want to have a fling while we’re faking it?”

  “A fling sounds harsh,” he said, a frown creasing his brow.

  “Well, we certainly can’t call it a relationship,” she said, sounding matter-of-fact when inside, she was dying a little. “Last night was fantastic, we can both agree on that. But I’m not cut out to be a booty call kind of girl.”

  She waited for him to agree. To say he knew she wasn’t anything but a booty call for him once his evening with Rory concluded.

  Instead, he gave a brusque nod and walked out the door.

  And Desiree had her answer right then as to what kind of ‘relationship’ she had with Jarryd.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jarryd stalked into his office the next morning, his foul mood exacerbated by a lack of caffeine, a lack of sleep and a lack of Desiree.

  He’d missed her last night. More than he could’ve possibly imagined. Which only served to sour his mood further.

  They’d had one night together. One. And while the sex had been spectacular, it shouldn’t mean this much to him.

  She shouldn’t mean this much to him.

  He flopped into the chair behind his desk and scowled at his PA’s message on the computer screen: ‘Usual breakfast of uttapam?’

  The thought of the thick pancakes made from fermented rice and urad dahl he favored for breakfast curdled his stomach and he fired off a negative response.

  Food wouldn’t help what ailed him.

  A heart-to-heart with Desiree would.

  He’d seen her wounded expression when he’d said nothing in response to her booty call comment last night. She’d wanted him to refute it. Instead, he hadn’t said a word, stuck in some weird alternate universe where he wanted to blab how fast he’d grown to care for her but terrified it would be an horrendous mistake.

  His father had fallen for Sushma too quickly and while he knew Desiree was nothing like her gold-digging mother, he couldn’t shed all his self-preservation mechanisms at once.

  He didn’t let anyone get too close and that included his family.

  Hanging out with Rory last night had solidified that. While his brother had been his usual brash, cheery self, Jarryd had contributed to their conversation with circumspection.

  If Rory had picked up on his recalcitrance, he hadn’t called him on it, keeping up a steady flow of conversation. Rory’s last Hollywood blockbuster, his latest role in a Bollywood romantic drama, the string of broken hearts he’d left behind in LA.

  Jarryd had nodded and answered in all the appropriate places but his heart hadn’t been in it and they’d called it a night around ten. Leaving Jarryd in his car, with his cell in his hand, desperate to call Desiree but not wanting to confirm her low opinion of him: that all he was interested in was sex.

  So he’d spent a
sleepless night berating himself and now had an endless morning in front of him, where he had to work on hotel promotion and hope to God that hosting this dating convention had produced a spike in bookings.

  He opened his inbox, staggered to see a flood of emails from his Head of House. He’s asked to be kept abreast of any increase in bookings or queries: he hadn’t expected twelve emails since yesterday.

  As he flicked through the emails, each one more enthusiastic than the last, he reached for his calculator.

  Since the launch of the dating convention yesterday, bookings at the Baron Hotel had increased by three hundred percent. And with a few stabs at the calculator, it confirmed what he already knew: the Mumbai Baron Hotel was back in business.

  He wanted to punch the air in victory, but as he stared at the figure on the calculator, visible proof of how he’d managed to turn the finances around on this place so quickly, all he could think about was what his dad would think.

  Would Voigt even care?

  As he opened the last email, from the hotel’s PR manager, his gaze widened. She’d outlined in succinct detail how the hotel’s profile had skyrocketed over the last twenty-four hours.

  Hits on the hotel’s website into the hundreds of thousands.

  Followers on their social media accounts increasing exponentially.

  And countless photos and mentions in all the Mumbai papers and magazines, both in print and online.

  The photo most used was that of him and Desiree at the launch, looking like a couple in love.

  What a crock.

  As he read the last line of his PR manager’s email, his heart stopped.

  Your relationship with Desiree D’Souza has catapulted this hotel back to the top. Way to go, Boss. If she’s the one, an engagement would be the icing on the proverbial cake and ensure Baron Hotel is the most talked about place to stay for months ahead.

  Engaged? Yeah, like that would happen.

  But as he re-read the line, the idea took root and blossomed.

  They were already faking a relationship. How hard would it be to take it one step further?

  Of course, he’d have to offer Desiree a decent incentive; maybe another hotel to design, this time the whole place rather than just one wing? Or maybe she could accompany him to Munnipar and give a quote for the palace re-design Nik Shah wanted?

  She’d agreed to his outlandish proposal in the first place for her business.

  Would she agree to another crazy proposal, this time of the marrying kind, for the same?

  Only one way to find out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Desiree adjusted a dust ruffle, moved a bedside lamp and smoothed a duvet in the sample room.

  She’d left a message with Jarryd’s PA for him to meet her here at nine thirty so she could get his approval and go-ahead to design the rooms in the new wing with this theme.

  She’d gone for cool, classic chic. Creams edged with gold. The palest silver thread in the ivory wallpaper. State of the art coffee machines and TVs. Minibars stocked with sodas, pretzels and chocolates, free to guests. Extra cushions for comfort. A chaise longue for relaxing. Hand-woven rugs from Chennai. Glossy magazines from all around the world. Plump pillows and adjustable beds.

  A modern, luxe hotel room that appealed aesthetically. The kind of room a guest could relax in and wouldn’t want to leave. Or would rebook for a return visit ASAP.

  Pride filled her as she surveyed the room. It had turned out better than she’d expected and she hoped Jarryd felt the same. Because that would mean she could give the go-ahead for the tradesmen to continue the other rooms, while she started an innovative job for her new major client.

  It would be a win-win. Getting her away from Jarryd and ensuring her interior design business took off into the stratosphere.

  In a few short weeks, she’d gone from a conservative business plan to the sky’s the limit. In a more charitable mood, she could say she owed it all to Jarryd. But she didn’t. She’d done this. With her talent and perseverance and hard work.

  She’d put herself through night school, she’d done interior design jobs for smaller hotels during her limited down time while juggling duties as Drew Lansford’s part-time personal assistant, she’d built up a respectable reputation among the few clients she’d done work for.

  Since quitting her PA job with Drew six weeks ago, she’d drawn up a new business plan. Designed a fresh logo and website. Cold-called countless businesses for the umpteenth time. Emailed promotional material. Culminating in getting the interview here and scoring this job.

  He’d just been the adjunct to giving her this opportunity in the first place.

  Her cell rang and her heart sank. If this was Jarryd citing more urgent business, she’d scream. She needed him to approve this room today so she could get cracking with her new client.

  A glance at the screen had her sighing in relief. Looked like the new client, Cheta Venkasam, couldn’t wait to get started.

  “Hi Cheta, I was hoping to get back to you within the hour with a starting date—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Cheta said, her tone clipped. “I’m sorry, Desiree, but I’m taking my business elsewhere.”

  Stunned, Desiree gripped the cell harder. “I don’t understand. You practically gave me the go-ahead when we last spoke.”

  “Plans change,” Cheta said, with a resigned sigh. “Look, I think you would’ve done a great job, but I’ll be honest and say that I have reservations about hiring someone who’s featuring in the press so much.”

  Desiree bit back an expletive. Damn Jarryd Baron and his stupid fake dating deal.

  “It should die down soon, Cheta. Once this week is over, in fact.”

  “Not good enough.” Cheta cleared her throat. “I don’t agree with a lot of what’s touted in the media today, but I do have reservations if your relationship with Mr. Baron ends and you’re painted in the same light as your mother.”

  Desiree’s jaw snapped shut with a decisive click. What could she say? She had no control over the media and Cheta was right. When her fake relationship with Jarryd ended, the media would be all over her yet again, libelous and scandalous, all in the effort to increase website hits or sell magazines and papers.

  She hadn’t cared when she made the deal initially because she knew her work would speak for itself and re-designing the Baron Hotel’s old wing would gain her kudos in the industry regardless.

  But now that the possible fallout from ending her relationship, which was inevitable considering it wasn’t real to begin with, was losing her a major client? It made her seethe with suppressed anger.

  “I’m sorry, Desiree, and I wish you all the best in your business.”

  “Thanks, Cheta,” Desiree managed through gritted teeth before she hit the disconnect button.

  Her glossy future had suddenly evaporated before her eyes and there wasn’t one thing she could do about it.

  “Damn you, Jarryd Baron,” she muttered, glaring at the beautiful room she’d created as if it was toxic.

  “Someone mention my name?”

  The amusement in his tone didn’t help as she whirled around and glared at him.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

  “You were busy on the phone, I was trying to be polite,” he said, entering the room and glancing around, his eyes widening in appreciation. “Wow. This is stunning.”

  “Thanks,” she said, sounding ungrateful when a few minutes ago, she’d craved his praise. “If you approve, I’ll give the go ahead for the rest of the rooms to be converted like this.”

  “Approval granted.” He did a slow three sixty, nodding the entire time. “What you’ve done here, in such a short space of time…”

  His gaze finally fixed on her. “You’ve done an incredible job. Thank you.”

  She grunted in response and strode to the door. “I better get back to work—”

  “Not so fast.” His hand shot out and landed on her shoulder, slowly spinning
her around. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, just busy.”

  She clamped down on the urge to blurt out exactly what was wrong: him and her agreeing to his stupid deal in the first place.

  “It can wait a few moments,” he said, releasing her. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

  “What is it?” She folded her arms and tried not to look like a sulky brat.

  “How would you feel about turning our fake relationship into an engagement?”

  Desiree gaped, sure she’d misheard.

  His rueful grin didn’t help. “So what do you say, Desee? Will you marry me?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “You’re out of your mind.” Desiree tried to stop the hysterical laughter from bubbling up within but once the first chuckle escaped, she couldn’t stop. “Stark, raving mad.”

  “Hear me out,” he said, taking a step toward her, which only served to make her back up until her butt hit the edge of a glass-topped table masquerading as a desk. “Thanks to our relationship and the promotion garnered from the dating convention launch, bookings are up at the hotel. For months ahead. Website hits are off the scale. Queries have hit an all-time high. And that’s only after one day.”

  He held his hands out to her, as if he had no tricks up his sleeve. “Dad entrusted this hotel to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure it’s the premier hotel in Mumbai. And hopefully get him to take an interest in the business again.”

  “That’s a low blow,” she said, glaring at him with all the indignation she could muster. “So not fair, bringing Voigt into this.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “Like we both don’t know why he became a recluse in the first place.”

  He shrugged, his expression bashful. “Okay, so that was low, but surely you can see where I’m coming from?” He threw his arms wide. “I only want the best for this place and in turn, for Dad.”

  “Screw you.” Desiree whirled away, stifling the urge to punch a hole in the newly plastered wall. “I won’t do it.”