by Cathryn Fox
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I’m on vacation. I didn’t know this was your place.” As blood rages through my body, I step farther away, but stop when my back connects with a grapevine. How can this be happening? Of all the vineyards in Italy, I end up at Gio’s? I mean, I knew his family owned a vineyard somewhere in Italy, but it’s a big country, and I figured chances of my sponsor sending me to his were slim to none. Well, apparently not, since I’m currently standing on his property, staring up at him.
“So you’re telling me this is a coincidence?” he asks.
I look down, stare at the grass beneath my feet, as I consider my dossier. I go over everything in my mind, and my stomach clenches. Slowly, I lift my head, and my heart catches when I find him still staring at me. “No,” I say, hardly able to believe one of my best friends set this up on purpose. Why would she do that? They all know how much I hate Gio. “This trip was a birthday gift, and I think I was sent here on purpose.”
“Olivia,” he says softly and takes a step toward me, his scent messing with my body and brain. “This was meant to be.”
Marry me.
Did he really ask me that, or was that just wishful thinking on my part?
“Gio?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you…” I stop speaking. If I ask and I’m wrong, I’m going to come across like an idiot.
“Did I what?”
“Nothing.”
His smile is slow, sexy, and for a guy who wanted no future with me, he sure is looking at me like he wants to devour me.
Oh how I wish.
“If you’re wondering if I just asked you to marry me, the answer is yes.”
My heart races—okay, gallops—as I try to process his words. Honest to God, I can’t believe Gio is standing in front of me, asking me to marry him. I suck in a sharp breath and struggle to fuel my brain, as his presence dominates my senses. Jesus, what I wouldn’t have done to hear those two little words on his lips two years ago.
But he didn’t just break my heart, he tore it from my chest and kicked it around all the way back to Italy.
“I can’t believe—” I begin, but he presses his finger to my lips to stop me. My heart flutters as he takes control, and I hate my body’s reaction. I briefly shut my eyes and remind myself I hate him.
“Hear me out.” He holds his finger more firmly against my lips, waiting. I nod and his hand drops. “I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you. But I need a favor.” I open my mouth to ask why I’d do him any favors, when a shake of his head stops me. “You see this?” He waves his hands around the vineyard. “Beautiful, right?” I nod. “It’s been in the family for generations, and if I don’t do something, we’re going to lose it.”
“What does that have to do with asking me to marry you?” I blurt out.
His eyes go stormy again, and he exhales sharply as he thrusts a hand through his hair. “Family tradition. The oldest son takes over the business, but he must be married first.”
As he explains, I don’t know whether I want to laugh or cry. One thing I do know is that I’m glad I didn’t scream yes at his proposal. How foolish would I have felt when I found out the real reason he wanted my hand in matrimony?
“You need a wife to save the vineyard?” I ask, still trying to wrap my brain around all this. He needs a damn wife. No way in hell is it going to be me.
He drives his hands into his jeans and they drop lower on his hips. I try not to stare, but he’s so gorgeous, even more so with two years of hard muscles added to his once thinner frame. His hair is cut short, the dark color accentuating the blue in his eyes. A light gray T-shirt is snug against broad shoulders and hard abs that I used to go crazy over.
He broke your heart.
Jesus, how many times did I have to remind myself of that? “Why would I ever do anything for you?” I ask, keeping my voice steady and cool.
He dips his head. “I would never ask for something without giving in return.” His eyes darken, and I have to wonder exactly what it is he wants to give me. Can he read the need in my eyes, the want?
How much my heart still aches for him?
“Go on,” I say, trying for casual when my insides are in total chaos.
“I can help you get out of that dead-end job you’re in. One call and you could be working at East Coast Media.”
I gasp, partly because his uncle’s firm is where I always wanted to work, and partly because he knows what’s been going on in my life.
I glare at him. “How do you know where I work?”
“I’ve been keeping tabs.”
He’s been keeping tabs on me? Why the hell would a man who dumped me do that? I stare at his chest and shake my head. I don’t know whether to feel violated or pleased. Either way, what I do know is I can’t—won’t—pretend to be his…anything. Not after everything we’ve been through.
“No,” I say. “I can’t do this.”
“This is all coming at you rather fast. I’m sorry about that, Olivia. I’m just…desperate.”
“Why me. Why now? There are plenty of women in Italy who would say yes to you. I mean look at you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I stumble and try to gobble them back up. “I…I just don’t know why you asked me.”
“Because I know you.” He touches me again, runs the back of his knuckles down my arm. I shiver, and I want to step away but can’t seem to make myself do it. “It needs to be believable. My parents aren’t going to sign over the vineyard if they think I’m marrying just to get my hands on it. With you, it will be believable.”
“I don’t know why you think that. You ran—”
“It just will be, okay. Trust me on that.”
He wants me to trust him. Fat chance.
“So what exactly would you want me to do?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me, even though I’m never going to do whatever it is.
“We’ll have a fast ceremony here on the hill tomorrow. Just my mom and dad and grandfather.”
“Tomorrow?” I stare at a bird as it flies overhead, and try to wrap my brain around all this. He actually wants me to go through with a ceremony? That’s insane! “Your parents are not going to believe any of this.”
“I think they will, especially since they asked about you earlier, and then you happened to just show up.”
My head jerks up. “Why would they ask about me?”
He goes quiet for a long time and pinches the bridge of his nose, his expression one of pure and perfect agony. “Because I’ve always cared about you, Olivia. I’ve never stopped.”
I push down the hurt and square my shoulders. “Just not enough to plan a future with me,” I respond, finally understanding why he just upped and left two days after I talked about a future. But as I look at him now, I get the sense there is more to it than that.
“It wasn’t…it’s not like…” He takes a quick breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ll tell them you came looking for me,” he says, redirecting the conversation. “And the second I saw you, I knew it was fate bringing us back together.”
A strange noise sounds in my throat. “But it wasn’t,” I counter. “It was my friend.”
“They don’t need to know that. They believe in fate and will believe that you came looking for me because we were meant to be together forever.”
My stomach clenches. Oh God, how I had wanted that to be true. But it’s too late for that now.
“How long are you here?” he asks.
“Three weeks.”
“Plenty of time. You stay with me for those weeks, then when your trip is over, you can fly back home, claim it didn’t work out. We can get an annulment. No one would ever have to know.”
I’d know.
“Don’t worry. It will all be just an act, Olivia. It will be in name only, and once the vineyard is signed over to me, we’d no longer have to put on a show.”
I look at him, taking in the frown lines around his mouth, the worry and fear ghos
ting his eyes. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”
Jesus, girl, you can’t seriously be considering this!
He nods, and my heart misses a beat.
Oh cripes, I can feel myself caving. Stay strong, Olivia—pretending to be his wife, sharing a bed for the next few weeks with him not being yours, will be emotional suicide. I should just slice open a vein and bleed out now. I shake my head. I can’t. I just can’t.
“Gio—”
“We’d be helping each other out.”
I think about the job at East Coast Media. I’d do just about anything to work for a firm that respects the women it employs. “One thing,” I say, hardly able to believe what I’m about to do.
“Name it.”
“You get me the interview. I get the job on my own merit.”
He nods. “One more thing for me, too.”
Anything….
Oh God, Olivia you are so pathetic.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to help me. I’d love to put our brains together, come up with ideas on how to market this place to a younger crowd.”
Brains together…bodies together.
“What do you say, Olivia?”
Chapter Four
Olivia
Why on earth did I ever say yes? I must be some sort of masochist. It’s the only explanation. When this is over, I’m going to wake up in a cold bed feeling like I’d had one too many shots of Patron. Again.
I sneak a sideways glance at the man beside me as he drives along the winding road leading to town. My heart thumps a little as I take in his features. Square jaw, firm chin, hard body that fills me with want. He turns my way, but I’m too slow to react and he catches me staring.
How can I still love him so much?
“Everything okay?” he asks, his hand sliding across the seat to capture mine. He gives a small squeeze, and my lungs constrict with it.
“I’m okay,” I squeak, even though I’m not. I can’t believe that in a few short hours I’ll be marrying the man I never stopped loving, even though his departure took the wind out of me and I haven’t been able to breathe quite the same since.
I glance at my purse and think about texting one of the girls. Would they talk me out of this, tell me I’m absolutely crazy? Which I probably am. Or would they tell me to go for it, enjoy the rights that go with marriage? Needing a distraction, something else to mull over as we drive to town to pick out a dress for the ceremony, I think about my brief meeting with his parents after agreeing to his ludicrous plan.
“Your parents are nice, Gio. I like them a lot.”
His mouth curves as he takes a corner. “They like you a lot, too.”
I smooth my hand over the fuchsia sundress I’m wearing and stretch out my legs, admiring my Jimmy Choos. They don’t go with the outfit, but I don’t care. I paid a shitload of money for them and planned to wear them every chance I had. Then again, maybe I’m wearing them because I know high heels are one of Gio’s fetishes.
That’s not going to make him love you again, Olivia.
“I can’t believe they bought it when you told them I came looking for you.”
“I can. They know I still care about you.”
Just not enough to plan a future.
At that painful thought, which nearly shatters my heart, I turn back to the window and take in the gorgeous countryside. I swallow the knot in my throat so I can talk with clarity. “I can see why you wanted to move back here. This place is gorgeous. And I understand the villa is important to you.” More important than me, obviously. But I don’t say that.
“Liv,” he begins, then stops abruptly.
My gaze jerks back to his.
Liv.
The shortening of my name feels like a hard slap to the face. He only ever called me Liv when we were in bed, sharing intimacies, and this marriage isn’t about love. He doesn’t want me sexually. Had made it clear he wants a wife in name only.
“What?” I finally ask.
He clenches his jaw, the muscles so tight I think they might snap. “Tell me more about this birthday present,” he says, once again redirecting the conversation.
“Well,” I begin. “Harper thought it would be fun to do something epic on each of our twenty-fifth birthdays, so we all put our names in a hat.” Gio nods as I continue with the explanation, and when I get to the part about sex, he slowly turns my way.
“You’re supposed to just sleep with some random guy?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
He shakes his head. “Jesus.”
“What?”
He frowns and says, “Nothing. We’re here.”
I follow his gaze and see the sprawling mall. The Prada and Gucci logos draw my attention. The gorgeous stone and glass building with the designer boutiques is pretty high end. I shift uneasily. Gio must pick up on it because he squeezes my hand again.
“Anything you want,” he says. “On me.”
“I just want something simple. No sense in spending a lot on a fake wedding, right?”
His nod is tight as he slides from the car and comes around my side to escort me out. I sigh at his chivalry. He’s always the gentleman when it comes to me. And while I like that outside the bedroom…inside is a very different story. My mind briefly flashes back to the two men devouring each other behind my villa, and a hot tingle spreads through my body and settles deep between my legs. I haven’t seen Mr. Hottie since that incident, and I’ve been searching high and low for the guy who wore the blue hat.
He captures my hands and weaves his fingers through mine in a familiar way. We fit together so easily, it’s hard to believe two years have passed. But they have, and this isn’t real. Heat splashes over me as we walk to the building, my shoes clicking on the sidewalk. As we approach the main entrance, the doors peel open to invite us in, and the air conditioning crashes over us like a cool wave. Delightful.
Gio guides me to the directory, looks it over, and frowns. “Where to first?” he asks, and I get it. He’s out of his element.
I smile, and for a moment think about dragging this shopping trip out, punishing him a little. Payback for leaving me? Yeah, probably. Torturous for him? Definitely. But I don’t follow through, because we’re short on time, and maybe I just can’t be that mean to the man who owns my heart.
I point to the store that carries bridal gowns. I don’t want anything fancy, and it has to fit me off the rack because we don’t have time for anything else. “Let’s go here.”
Gio maps the path and guides me through the throngs of shoppers bustling about, numerous bags in hand. We step into the store and a sales lady around my age greets us.
“Buongiorno. Good Morning,” she says in both Italian and English, probably because the store caters to locals and tourists alike. Her teeth flash in a smile as she looks me over, sizes me up.
“Good morning,” I respond.
“What can I help you with today?” she asks in English.
“I need a dress. I’m getting married in…” I pause and glance at my watch. “Four hours.”
“Oh my goodness,” she says, and zeros in on my stomach. She obviously thinks I’m pregnant. I resist the urge to correct her.
Gio, however, pulls me into his arms, a public display of affection. “We’ve been apart,” he says and cups my chin. He dips his head, his lips so close to mine I’m sure he’s going to kiss me.
Please kiss me. My pulse thumps, and my lips part in offering.
“And I’m not waiting another second to make this beautiful woman mine,” he says quietly, like he’s speaking only to me.
My heart leaps. There’s something so deep and honest in his eyes as he looks at me, if I didn’t know better, I would think he is serious.
But I do know better.
He hovers over me for a moment, and when the kiss doesn’t come, I blink to pull myself together. I straighten and try to get my breathing under control as the sales lady smiles at Gio, then gives him the o
nce over. Twice. Jealousy surges inside me, and I want to tell her to back the hell off, he’s spoken for. But I don’t because, really, he isn’t. Still, to eye-fuck a guy while his bride—fake or not—is beside him is crude. If my girlfriend Harper were here, she’d have punched the chick by now.
“Please come with me. I think I have just the dress for you.”
Gio keeps his arm around me in a possessive, loving way that envelops me in warmth and feels much deeper than pretend—deeper than just “caring about me.”
If only…
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“I didn’t like the condescending way she looked at your stomach. Pregnant or not, it’s none of her fucking business, and I protect what is mine.”
What is mine?
I swallow the knot clogging my throat and follow the sales lady to the back of the store. The hangers scrape the metal rod as she searches through the dresses. She casts another glance my way. “Size six?”
“Yes,” I say, and she pulls a simple, strapless, A-line dress from the rod and displays it for me. “I think this will be beautiful on you.”
I look it over and glance at Gio. “What do you think?”
His knuckles brush mine, the touch powerful and intimate, so goddamn real I pinch my leg to remind myself it’s not. “Anything will be beautiful on you, Olivia,” he whispers in the softest voice.
Good God, if he keeps touching me and looking at me like that, I’ll never survive this.
I run shaky fingers over the dress. “It’s so pretty.”
“Try it on,” Gio says, looking like he’s in total agony as he gives my hand a little squeeze. I pause for a second and take in his pained expression. What the hell has come over him? I’m about to ask but stop when he gestures toward the changing room and says, “Go.”
“Okay.”
I make a move to turn, but his hand captures mine to stop me. “Liv,” he says, his voice a soft rasp that sends shivers skittering through me. “I want to see it on you.”
The sales lady wags her finger at Gio. “Now, you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” He drops onto the sofa facing the changing rooms. I meet his eye, and he gives me a smile so full of heat and promise, my entire body warms. “I’m waiting,” he says.