Harlequin Romance September 2021 Box Set

by Andrea Bolter

  “Carla?” Someone jostled her.

  Still in a sleepy fog, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. His touch was warm and gentle. Her lips moved over his. Her fingers reached out, stroking the stubble on his cheek. In her mind they were standing in the middle of a grand dance floor with white glitter lights all around them. She was wearing a flowing white wedding dress, and Franco looked dashing in his black tux. And she pulled back to tell him that she loved him. He spoke her name. Was he going to say I love you first?

  “Carla? Carla, wake up.”

  Her eyes flew open. It took her a moment to gain her bearings. And then with horror, she realized she’d dozed off with her head on Franco’s shoulder.

  She sat straight up. “I’m sorry. I must have been more tired than I thought.” Heat warmed her face as she fumbled to grab her phone and purse. “I should go to bed.”

  “Do you want me to show you to your room?”

  She shook her head, still not looking at him. “I’ve got it. Um...good night.”

  And then she set off in the direction she’d seen Franco take her luggage. The bedroom was done up in tans and blues. A big sleigh bed dominated the room, but there was no sign of her luggage.

  She moved to the other side of the hallway. This bedroom was done up in peaches and cream. When she spotted her luggage, she knew she was in the right place. She stepped inside the room and closed the door.

  She pressed her back against the door and closed her eyes. What must Franco think of her? How had she ended up draped against him? Just the thought brought the heat back to her face. At least she hadn’t talked in her sleep—had she?

  With a groan, she moved away from the door. She glanced around the modern bedroom with its minimalist decor. She tried to decide if this was Franco’s taste in decorating or if he just hadn’t bothered to take the time or effort to add some personality to the apartment. She shrugged and turned to the bags Franco had insisted on carrying for her. They were now spread out over the king-size four-poster bed.

  She pushed the memory of that vivid dream to the back of her mind. Even before it, she hadn’t been sure how to act around him. Maybe they just had to figure out this new development in their relationship. And they’d have plenty of time now that they were not only living in his penthouse but also working together.

  The only thing she did know was that her father was wrong about Franco. Maybe his grandfather was a liar, but not Franco. If her father would just give him a chance, he would realize what a kind and upstanding guy he was—a man they could conduct a successful business deal with.

  Carla set to work, unpacking her things and placing them in the empty walk-in closet. She decided to look upon this temporary move as an adventure. And in the end, they would all get what they wanted.

  Most of her clothes were hung up when her phone rang. She rushed over to the bed. The caller ID displayed the name of her assistant, Rosa. It was strange for her to call her so late, but since Carla had been out of the office for the wedding, things had piled up. Maybe she’d missed something urgent when she’d been at the office earlier.

  She immediately pressed the phone to her ear. “Rosa, what’s wrong?”

  “This isn’t Rosa, it’s Rose. And why are you answering my boyfriend’s phone?” The high-pitched voice hit the wrong chord in Carla.

  Was it possible she’d grabbed Franco’s phone instead of her own? “Who’s your boyfriend?”

  “Franco Marchello. Now put him on the phone.”

  So it was true. She was holding Franco’s phone. Her grip tightened. He’d told her that he wasn’t seeing anyone. Had he lied to her?

  In her mind, she heard her father saying, “I told you so. You can’t trust a Marchello.” Immediately anger pulsed through her veins. She refused to be made a fool of.

  “Franco can’t come to the phone.” Carla wasn’t sure how she kept her voice so calm and level, because she was anything but that on the inside.

  “Who is this? Is this his assistant?”

  “No. This is his wife. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call my husband again.” And then she disconnected the call.

  She rushed out of her room, hoping to find Franco in the living room. He wasn’t there. She checked the kitchen, but the lights were out. She turned to look at the door just off the kitchen—Franco’s bedroom door.

  She was pretty certain if he’d gone out that he would have let her know. That meant he must be in there. It was the last place she wanted to speak with him, but this wasn’t going to wait. She needed her phone back.

  She marched to the other side of the apartment and rapped her knuckles on the door.

  “Hang on,” he called out.

  She didn’t want to wait. She didn’t want to see him. How dare he make a fool of her? With each passing second, her temper rose. She seesawed between telling him exactly what she thought of him and keeping her emotions to herself, not letting him see that it got to her.

  When the door swung open, Franco stood there shirtless, showing off his muscular chest with broad shoulders. A pair of navy boxers hugged his trim waist. “Hi. Did you need something? More towels?”

  “Uh...no.” She struggled to drag her gaze back to his face.

  He smiled as amusement twinkled in his eyes. He propped himself against the door. “I’m not a mind reader, so you’ll have to tell me what has brought you to my door.” And then his eyes widened as though he’d figured out what she wanted—him. He opened the door wider. “You can come in.”

  Heat swirled in her chest and rushed to her cheeks. How dare he think she was going to sleep with him again? If he thought he could have her and a girlfriend on the side, he was very wrong.

  “I trusted you to keep your word,” she said, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “I knew going into this arrangement that it would be hard—it would definitely have its challenges. But I thought you and I were adult enough to handle it.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, scattering the short dark strands. “What are you talking about?”

  She glared at him. He was playing with her and seeing what she knew. What if there was more that she didn’t know—more women she didn’t know about? An uneasy feeling churned in the pit of her stomach. She refused to acknowledge that the feeling eating at her felt a lot like jealousy. She was not jealous. Not. At. All.

  She refused to play into his game. “Like you don’t know what you’ve been up to and with whom.”

  “I don’t or I wouldn’t have asked you.”

  “Either adhere to our legal agreement or I’ll sue you for breach of contract.” She held out his phone. “Our phones got mixed up. I’d like mine back.”

  His eyes widened as his lips formed an O. He retreated to the table next to his great big bed, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many times Rose had been in this room. Carla immediately stopped the thought. She wasn’t going there. What he did before their marriage was none of her business. He just had to follow their agreement while he was her husband. It wasn’t too much to expect.

  He returned to the doorway where she’d remained. “Listen, I don’t know what you think is going on, but I can assure you that there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  Her unwavering gaze met his. “I didn’t misunderstand anything. But you might want to have that conversation with your girlfriend.”

  She grabbed her phone from his hand and then returned his phone. Not waiting for him to say anything further, she turned and headed back across the hallway. It wasn’t until she was inside her room with the door shut that she expelled a pent-up breath.

  Did he really think she didn’t know what he was up to? She wouldn’t stand for him sneaking around behind her back. She told herself it was all about them adhering to the deal and it had absolutely nothing to do with not being able to stand the thought of Franco holding another woman in his a
rms and kissing her the way he’d kissed Carla. None at all.

  * * *

  What in the world had gotten her so worked up?

  And why did she suddenly think he had a girlfriend? A wife was plenty for him. There was no way he’d want to please two women at once. That would be a very dangerous proposition. He shook his head, chasing away the troubling images.

  But if Carla was truly his wife in every sense of the word, did she really think another woman could tempt him away? Definitely not.

  It didn’t take Franco long to realize that a woman he’d briefly seen before he’d met Carla had phoned. He inwardly groaned. The woman was trouble. The last he knew, she’d been called away for a lengthy business arrangement in the United Arab Emirates.

  He didn’t want to call Rose. In fact, it was the very last thing he wanted to do, but with Carla having a total fit, he had to know what Rose had said to her so he could try and undo it. Because while he didn’t care what Rose thought about him, he cared very much what Carla thought.

  The conversation with Rose was mostly one-sided as she regaled him with all her business triumphs in the United Arab Emirates. Every time he interrupted her in order to cut to the chase, she started over and the conversation just went on and on.

  Sometime around midnight, they finally got around to the part he’d been waiting for—Rose’s conversation with Carla—the one where she’d introduced herself as his girlfriend. Franco had inwardly groaned. She wanted to know if it was true that he was now married. He’d told her he was and happily so. Rose was furious. She accused him of leading her on and that she would never forgive him. She hung up on him, which was fine by him. And then he blocked her number, which was something he should have done long ago.

  His immediate thought was to go to Carla, but at this late hour, he suspected she’d be sleeping. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her up. She was already upset with him. He didn’t want to make it worse.

  As it was, he barely slept that night. It only took one phone call to destroy the trust that he’d built up with Carla. He wanted to believe it was their working relationship he was worried about, but he wasn’t that good of a liar. He liked Carla a lot. She was easy to be around. And he could talk to her like no one he’d ever known. She listened to him and didn’t try to force him to do this or that. Quite frankly, he’d really miss her if she were to disappear from his life.

  He halted his thoughts. Had he really just admitted that? Even if it was just to himself, it was wrong. He couldn’t let himself get attached to Carla. He refused to let her or anyone get that close, because he knew what it felt like when the people in his life walked away.

  He’d intended to clear things up with her first thing in the morning, but she’d slipped out the door while he was in the shower. This couldn’t wait, so he headed straight to her office. He needed her to understand that he took this arrangement as seriously as she did.

  He arrived at Carla’s office just after nine. He didn’t wait for Carla’s assistant to announce him. “I have to speak with my wife.”

  He opened the door and barged into Carla’s office, not caring who was in there.

  Carla’s widened gaze met his, and then her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

  He closed the door behind him. “We have to talk.”

  “No, we don’t. You just need to make sure your girlfriend knows to stay away from you.”

  In that moment, he realized what was going on. Carla wasn’t particularly worried about how Rose might affect their business arrangement. No, this was much more personal. Carla was jealous. A warm spot started in his chest and then spread outward. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought of his wife being jealous over him.

  Then it dawned on him how dangerous this all could be. Because if Carla took this marriage too seriously, it would mean she would be hurt when it ended. And it would end. He just didn’t want her getting hurt.

  “Rose has never been my girlfriend. The only one who thought that was her.”

  Carla’s mouth gaped slightly. She promptly pressed her lips together. “She must have had a reason to think those things.”

  He vehemently shook his head. “Not from me.” He didn’t want to get into all this, but Carla had right to know since she was his, um...wife. And so he told her how Rose had claimed to be pregnant so he would marry her.

  “That’s awful. Who does such a thing?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. But I never want to go through something like that again.”

  “I don’t blame you. No one should ever lie about something so important.”

  “Not only that, but I’m not planning on having kids.”

  Her gaze searched his. “Do you mean now? Or ever?”

  “Never.”

  Carla stood and moved around her desk, pausing just in front of it. There was quite a length between them. “So where has Rose been all this time?”

  Franco approached her, stopping just in front of her. His gaze searched hers, willing her to believe him. “She’s been out of the country for work. She just got back. But don’t worry, I told her I was happily married.”

  A warmth returned to her eyes. “You did?”

  “I did. Isn’t that part of our agreement? Putting on a happy front for everyone?” He needed to remind both of them that this marriage wasn’t real.

  Carla blinked, and it was though a wall had gone up between them. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  And suddenly he regretted his words. He slid his hands around her waist. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. I’m getting used to being your pretend husband. It has a lot of benefits.”

  And then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It had been a spontaneous action. He should have thought it through. He was just about to pull away when her hands slid over his shoulders. They wrapped around his neck as she deepened the kiss. It would appear he was back in her good graces—her very good graces.

  He’d always heard his married friends say that the fun of fighting with their wife was the making up. He never really understood what they’d meant until now. But this was definitely worth a restless night, because kissing Carla had never been better—

  She jerked back and frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing? What are you doing? Because that kiss went both ways.”

  She stared at him, but he wasn’t able to read her thoughts.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Come in,” Carla called out.

  “Excuse me.” Rosa’s tentative gaze moved between them. I thought you’d want to know that your nine thirty appointment is on their way up.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you.” Then Carla, looking like a no-nonsense professional, turned to him. “This is important.”

  He was being dismissed. He was a Marchello. People didn’t dismiss him. But as his wife turned her back to him, he realized she wasn’t like other people. So be it.

  He turned and stormed out the door without another word. He’d thought she’d wanted him, but obviously he’d been wrong. He’d be sure to keep his distance going forward.

  But once he was outside in the fresh air, he cooled down. She’d stung his pride, nothing more. Because in the end, she was right. It’s better to keep things professional between them. He was foolish to think he could enjoy the benefits of their arrangement without emotional entanglements. After all, sex with Carla was never purely physical for him. It was so much more.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THEIR FIRST MEETING.

  Their first official meeting as Mr. and Mrs. Marchello.

  During the week following their wedding, they’d worked hard to bring their respective staffs on board with their ambitious plans for this venture. And to Carla’s relief, the news was mostly met with enthusiasm. There were some of the old guard that were not ent
hused, as they’d been swayed by her father’s derogatory comments about the Marchellos. But she was working hard to convince them to embrace this mutually beneficial partnership.

  When she looked across the conference room table at Franco, she tried to see him purely as a business associate, but that was impossible as their steamy wedding night and the subsequent kisses were always at the edge of her thoughts. And that was making it really hard to focus on the task at hand—breathing new life into the Falco restaurants.

  At one time her family’s restaurants had been the place to be. Lines of people would form out the door as they waited for a table. Now business was steady, but it wasn’t impressive. People didn’t stand out on the sidewalks for an hour wait because they just couldn’t live without a bowl of Falco pasta or their signature salads with house dressing or their fresh-baked bread with the flaky crust.

  Her father had been so focused on expanding the chain that he hadn’t slowed down to refresh the menu or update the original restaurants. She’d strongly urged him to reinvest in their current properties, but he was always talking about expanding the business.

  Now at last she had a chance to implement her own plans. And her new husband was a part of that plan. She glanced over at him as he spread out his papers and set up his laptop.

  “I’ve given your spices some thought,” she said.

  “I’m thinking that some special blends should be placed in the middle of the table in a caddy.”

  “How many spices were you thinking would be Marchello brand?”

  “All of them.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I said we’d work together, but I didn’t say you were taking over.”

  For a while they haggled back and forth. She remembered her father’s warning about not trusting a Marchello. She’d made that mistake on their wedding night, thinking that possibly there could be something more to their arrangement than business, but she had obviously been mistaken. But it wasn’t the first time she’d been wrong about a man. Her thoughts strayed back to her two-timing ex-fiancé, Matteo.