Italian Escape with Her Fake Fiancé

by Sophie Pembroke

‘Some guy came looking for me. A lawyer, I guess. Wanted to talk to me about an inheritance.’

  Jay’s sandy eyebrows went up at that. ‘Someone died?’

  Daisy frowned. The solicitor hadn’t explained that part. Usually when you inherited something, someone had to die first, right? But in this case it seemed more like a mystery gift. And it wasn’t as if she had any rich relatives to die and leave her stuff, anyway. When her gran went, she’d be lucky to inherit her old Zippo lighter, at a push.

  ‘I’m not sure. It was kind of confusing. But basically, someone seems to have left me some cottage in Italy, for some reason. It’s probably some sort of scam, I don’t know.’

  None of it made any sense at all, and from the baffled look on Jay’s face, he knew it. And she’d never even told him about her family, or how she’d left them behind at sixteen and never looked back. Maybe he’d guessed some of it, but she’d never told him.

  She never told anybody. The past was just that—past. Daisy had no intention of living in it.

  But if Jay had questions, he didn’t have the chance to ask them, because at that moment Kevin, their shared manager, came bustling into the auditorium, his eyes fixed as ever on the tablet in his hands.

  ‘Guys! Have you seen this? This is immense. The organic reach of this story has been incredible. Ever since that kiss! We have to capitalise on this, stat.’

  Daisy and Jay exchanged wary glances. Kevin wasn’t naturally an over-excitable sort.

  ‘Seen what, exactly?’ Jay asked. Daisy was happy to leave whatever this was to him to resolve. After all, he was the senior artist on the roster, the headlining act. She was just support.

  Plus he was much less likely to snap sarcastically at Kevin than she was. Daisy knew her limits and, after three months of constant touring, she was pretty near them. She needed her own space—something that was non-existent on tour. Plus the mental strain of keeping everything together when all the reviews talked about how Dept 135 weren’t living up to their reputation, how her duet with Jay was the best bit about the show... She was glad people liked what she was doing, of course, but it didn’t make for a great feeling on the bus, and she knew it was getting to Jay. She needed some time away from them all.

  Thank God tomorrow night was their last show before a three-week break. Three weeks on her own, without having to make small talk or be polite to people or pretend she cared about marketing strategies and branding...that would be perfect. She could recharge—alone, probably in a hotel room somewhere with great bars nearby, and an anonymous city vibe—and come back to the tour ready to be polite to people again.

  Well, as polite as she ever got, anyway.

  Kevin turned the tablet towards them, showcasing a shot of the two of them onstage in Philadelphia, the moment that they kissed. The headline above it read: Wedding Bells for Jay? Daisy pulled a face and started to turn away—until Kevin flipped to the next photo, one that must have been taken just moments later, after the kiss but before she walked offstage.

  She couldn’t help herself. Daisy leaned closer and studied the picture.

  No wonder people were believing these crazy rumours. They looked like they were in love. No doubt about it, the connection between them onstage was clear for anyone who even glimpsed the photo.

  She stared at the screen, fascinated. She’d known, ever since that festival in Copenhagen where they’d first played together, that they had a musical synchronicity. Without ever rehearsing or even playing together before, they’d been able to just sink into each other’s style and play. When Jay played guitar she could just feel where he was going from chord to chord and, with her mandolin in her hand, she could dance around the tune he summoned and add sparkle and chimes and an extra layer of magic.

  Of course, they were still much better when they actually practised, but that didn’t change what lay under the music, or what she saw in the photo Kevin was proudly displaying.

  When she and Jay made music together, she knew him, understood him, in a way she didn’t understand anyone outside music. Which probably had more to do with her lack of social skills than anything else, but still. When they played, they connected.

  And that showed, even in a photo, even without the kiss, even without the music there to explain it.

  But without the music that connection didn’t make any sense. Unless the two people in that photo were in love.

  ‘That’s so misleading,’ she said sharply, forgetting her resolve to let Jay deal with this. ‘They’re reading too much into a fake kiss that only happened because Jay knew the band were tanking that night.’

  Jay winced at that, but didn’t argue back, which Daisy figured made her case for her.

  ‘Is it?’ Kevin raised his eyebrows. ‘I mean, it happened—happens every night you play together onstage, whether you kiss or not. And if your fans read a little more into it than is technically true...that’s not our fault. It’s our opportunity.’

  Rubbing his hand across his forehead, Jay sank back down to sit on the edge of the stage. ‘This is because I spoke to Pamela last night, isn’t it?’

  Kevin scrolled up the screen on his tablet to show another headline on the gossip site: Jay says he’s ready to love again!

  Daisy snorted as Jay said, ‘I didn’t say that!’

  ‘Doesn’t matter what you said.’ Kevin put the tablet down, for possibly the first time since Daisy had met him. She suspected he even held onto it in his sleep. ‘What matters is what the world believes. And they believe—no, they know—that the two of you are in love. And that gives us an opportunity.’

  ‘To do what, exactly?’ Daisy asked, instantly suspicious. She had a feeling that whatever it was it would have nothing to do with music—which was all she was interested in. And she was starting to suspect that this had nothing to do with what she wanted at all.

  ‘To raise your stars further! To give your audience what they really want!’ Kevin’s voice vibrated with excitement. ‘And to make a lot of money, I hope,’ he added, more prosaically.

  It always came down to money, Daisy knew. And having lived so long without any, she wasn’t about to say it didn’t matter. Money—scraped together from gigs in filthy pubs, busking on the street, and even selling her first guitar—was what had allowed her to go to Copenhagen, to the festival, with her mandolin in hand, and play that first gig that really mattered. The one where Jay had seen her, and asked her to come to their gig later, a secret afterglow sort of thing for their fans, and pulled her up onstage with him.

  She wouldn’t argue against money as a motive. But that didn’t mean she was just giving in, either.

  ‘Both our stars?’ she asked sceptically. ‘Or is this just an attempt to distract from the fact that ticket sales were trailing off with every tour review, up until the moment Jay kissed me onstage, so now you want us to fleece our fans by lying to them?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Kevin sounded far more offended than Daisy thought was reasonable, since that had totally been his actual suggestion. ‘I want to use this interest to bring your music to new fans, that’s all!’

  From the tilt of Jay’s eyebrows, Daisy was betting he didn’t believe him either. But he also seemed willing to give Kevin’s plan a shot. ‘How, exactly?’

  ‘Well, now.’ Kevin took a seat in the front row of the auditorium and motioned for the two of them to do the same, except then they’d be sitting in a boring row unable to really look at each other, so Daisy ignored him and settled onto the floor, her back against the stage instead. Jay, of course, did as he was told and sat beside Kevin.

  ‘We’ve got a break in the tour schedule coming up, as I’m sure you both know.’

  Did she ever. Daisy had been living for this break for the last seven days, ever since the incident with the bus, the muddy back-country road, and the cow, that had led to performing on practically no sleep.

  It w
asn’t that Daisy didn’t like touring—well, actually, there was an argument to be made for that, too. But she loved performing. Sharing her music with people who actually wanted to listen. Making music with like-minded friends. That was what she lived for.

  Sharing a tour bus with five blokes, at least one of whom snored, was not. Neither was dealing with the press, doing interviews, smiling all the time, and living in each other’s pockets.

  The moving around she was okay with—she’d never been particularly attached to any place anyhow. But she’d like at least a little time to see the places they stopped, beyond the venues and dressing rooms.

  And she would kill for just twenty-four hours alone, without anyone trying to talk to her.

  The break in the schedule was all that stood between her and some sort of furious meltdown that she’d probably end up taking out on poor, placid, miserable Jay. Of course, after the engagement thing with Pamela, he might deserve it.

  ‘Yep,’ Jay said to Kevin, his tone wary. ‘Three weeks for me to focus on writing the new album, right?’

  ‘I thought we could use this break to capitalise on this fabulous publicity,’ Kevin went on, oblivious to Jay’s frown and Daisy’s suddenly murderous thoughts. ‘Of course you’ll want to work on the album, but how about working with Daisy, writing a few more duets, since they’re what seem to be going down so well right now?’

  ‘More duets,’ Jay repeated flatly.

  Daisy got the impression he could read between the lines as well as she could. What Kevin meant was, You can’t even perform right now, Jay, let alone write. No one is talking about the music anyway. Let me give you Daisy to distract them all.

  Except she wasn’t something that could just be given like that. Not like a new watch, or a million dollars, or even an Italian villa...

  Kevin continued, regardless. ‘And while you’re at it, we could set up some public engagements for the two of you as a couple, a few high-profile appearances, maybe even a trip to a jeweller’s...’

  He left it hanging, as if it were just a suggestion, but Daisy knew from experience that it was nothing of the sort. The label got what the label wanted, and Jay was a far bigger star than she ever hoped to be. If Kevin thought he could use her to save Dept 135 from Jay’s blue period, he would, in a heartbeat.

  Well, tough. She signed up to play music and sing her songs. Not to get fake engaged to some superstar. She’d probably get death threats from his teenage fans, for a start.

  ‘Sorry, no can do,’ she said as breezily as possible to hide her fury. ‘I’ve...just found out I’ve been left some property in Italy, and need to spend the next three weeks there sorting that out.’

  There. Problem solved.

  * * *

  ‘Italy?’ Kevin’s brow wrinkled as he obviously tried to make sense of Daisy’s statement. Which, Jay knew, would be difficult, since it made basically no sense at all.

  Or at least, not a lot more than Kevin’s current plan to marry the pair of them off for the publicity.

  Except, in the context of the reviews, the ticket sales and the terrible tour, that made perfect sense.

  Dept 135 fan? Don’t look over there at those nasty reviews—look at this photo of Jay kissing a pretty girl!

  But just because it made sense didn’t mean he was comfortable with it. And he knew for a fact that Daisy wouldn’t be.

  ‘Yeah,’ Daisy responded nonchalantly, despite the fact that Jay was almost certain she was about to launch into some audacious lying. ‘My great-aunt. Lovely woman. I’ll miss her so much. But she left me her cottage in Italy to remember her by. And so...’ she sniffed, mostly for effect, Jay suspected ‘... I was planning on spending the break there, sorting out the details.’

  Daisy was a terrible liar, but somehow Kevin seemed to be buying it. Probably he was mostly afraid of backlash for not being suitably sympathetic in Daisy’s time of great—and probably fictional—loss.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Daisy,’ he said, with too much conviction for it to be authentic. ‘Of course you must go to Italy. We’ll work something out.’ The phone in his hand started ringing, and he held it up. ‘Sorry, must take this. I’ll be right back.’

  Jay waited until he was out of earshot and then, knowing that Kevin had never been less than ten minutes on a phone call in his life, turned to Daisy.

  ‘What the hell? I thought you just said it was probably a scam. And now there’s a Great-Aunt Felicia or whatever?’

  ‘Felicia! That’s a great name for her. Thanks, Jay.’ Daisy beamed at him, obviously not mourning the loss of her imaginary aunt one bit. ‘It’s the details that really sell a lie, right?’

  It’s not having the worst poker face in history that really helps, he thought, but didn’t say.

  He quite liked that Daisy was rubbish at lying. He’d been lied to enough in his life already. At least he could be reasonably sure that Daisy would never get away with lying to him.

  ‘But why are we lying to Kevin?’ he asked, uncomfortably aware that he was complicit here too. He knew there was no Felicia, but he hadn’t called Daisy out in front of Kevin. And he knew he probably wouldn’t when the manager returned, either, even though he should.

  Daisy gave him a blank look, as if it should be totally obvious. ‘Um...because I actually want a break from this tour?’

  Jay shrugged. ‘We’ll get one either way. I mean, there are no gigs planned for the next three weeks. Did you have plans that are more important than hanging around parties and writing music with me?’

  It occurred to him, probably a little late, that she might. That there might be some guy, or some girl, waiting for her to finish touring and come home to them. Daisy didn’t talk about her private life much. At this point, he knew more about her fictional great-aunt than any of her actual family.

  She spoke of her friends, Aubrey and Jessica, sometimes, but Jay got the impression that they were scattered around the globe and dealing with their own stuff. But maybe Daisy had planned to go visit one of them?

  He could sympathise for wanting to get away and back to the people she cared about; normally he’d feel the same way. When there was a break in the tour schedule, he and Harry tended to head home to Cheshire to see their mum. But right now, he couldn’t take three weeks of his mother lamenting the loss of the love of his life, as if Milli had died rather than just walked out on him.

  In his family, true love was for life, just as it had been for his parents. His mum and dad had fallen hard for each other the first day they met, married two months later, and stayed happy and in love until the day his dad died of a heart attack, when Jay was seventeen. His mum had never even contemplated the idea of marrying again. ‘Your dad was it for me,’ was all she’d say when he or Harry suggested dating. ‘I had love. I don’t need another poor imitation of it at my time of life.’

  That was why he’d always been so cagey about introducing girlfriends to his family too soon. But when he was on the cover of every glossy magazine with Milli, keeping things under wraps had been a little tricky.

  But this wasn’t about Milli. It was about Daisy, and the album he needed to write.

  Because Kevin was right: he needed her help if he was going to shake this funk and write something worth listening to. Which meant he needed to persuade her to forget Aunt Felicia, or whatever she really had planned.

  Daisy pulled a face. ‘Yes, I had plans. Me, a hotel room, and no people asking me questions or needing me to smile for the next three weeks. Seriously, Jay, if I have to stay on show I’m going to blow a fuse at just the wrong moment. Probably with the wrong person. I’ll ruin everything, I know I will.’

  Jay hid a smile. For all that Daisy performed onstage as if every moment she lived was for her fans, and for all the engaging and extroverted interviews she gave, he’d long suspected it was all an act. At her heart, Daisy was not a people person. Hence the snapp
y and sulky behaviour over the last week or two. She needed some alone time.

  He recognised it easily enough; his brother Harry was the same. Jay tended to be more energised by spending time with people, although he’d withdrawn a lot since the break-up with Milli. Harry, however, could only ever enjoy the company of others for so long before he’d need some serious solitude to find his equilibrium again.

  Daisy was like Harry. And even if she wasn’t planning on spending three weeks in a scam cottage in Italy, she did need time away from the tour. So as a responsible mentor figure he’d back her up on that.

  ‘Okay, fine. We’ll go with the cottage story. Rest in peace Great-Aunt Felicia, and all that. But Kevin’s going to want to know what we’re going to do about the album.’ And so was he.

  For all his claims of being able to write on tour, Jay knew he wasn’t in the right place mentally to do it and keep gigging. Plus it was hard to write love songs when he was still mentally reliving what had gone wrong with the only woman he’d ever actually loved.

  Even if the love story had been more one-sided than he’d thought.

  Daisy’s shoulders slumped. ‘Yeah. Well, maybe I can just take a week and then we’ll get onto it?’

  She sounded about as enthusiastic at the prospect of them writing love songs together as he was. But he had obligations, contracts. Fans. Somehow, he had to find a way to get past this writing slump—and Daisy was the best idea he had.

  Before he could answer, Kevin returned from his phone call, beaming.

  ‘All sorted, kids! Jay, you’re going to go to Italy with Daisy. Kills two birds with one cottage and all that.’ Jay shot Daisy an incredulous look, seeing it mirrored on her face. ‘You can work on the album together, the media can write about your romantic break away, and Daisy can sort out her inheritance issues at the same time!’

  He looked so pleased with himself to have come up with the solution, Jay didn’t have the heart to tell him there might not even be a cottage. And that even if there was, Daisy wasn’t going to go for pretending to be his girlfriend. One way or another, they were going to have to come up with a solution to this.