A Very Fake Fiancée: The Fiancée Charade / My Fake Fiancée / A Very Exclusive Engagement

The room was filled with a pressing darkness, barely penetrated by the glow of a single lamp out in the lounge, but even so, he could clearly make out Gemma’s form. Against the burnished coverlet, her pale skin glowed like a pearl and the rich flood of red hair, leached of its color, looked like ebony on his pillows.

He studied the pure line of Gemma’s profile and the fierce need that had overtaken him earlier reasserted itself.

He wanted her, and he now knew how much she wanted him. The minute he’d kissed her earlier in the evening, the intervening years had seemed to dissolve, the chemistry instant and explosive.

Snagging his pants from the floor, he padded through to the bathroom, freshened up and pulled on the trousers. After draining a glass of water in the kitchen, he found Gemma’s canvas bag where she’d left it in the wine cellar and carried it through to his study.

Closing the door behind him, he flicked on a lamp and set the bag on his desk. Setting the bottle of champagne down on the glossy surface, he drew out the liquid soft mass of black silk and lace. His stomach tightened as his guess that it was lingerie, not a wrap, was confirmed.

As he pulled out what was without doubt a pretty negligee, he noticed something fluttering and white. A sales tag that Gemma in her impulsive haste to seduce Zane had clearly forgotten to remove.

His fingers tightened on the garment, elation gripping him.

The negligee wasn’t the symbol of a seasoned sexual relationship. It was new and unused.

It was the final confirmation.

The craziness of the night now made perfect sense. He understood Gemma’s position, her need to draw Zane into a committed relationship.

She had failed. Zane had already been committed to another woman, for which Gabriel was profoundly thankful. Because, as of an hour ago, as far as Gabriel was concerned, Gemma now belonged to him.

He noticed a glossy magazine in the bottom of the bag. Frowning, he pulled it out. It was folded open at an article, “How To Seduce Your Man in Ten Easy Moves.” He flicked through it, skimming a collection of articles on what men really wanted and a list of exotic tactical dating maneuvers that were “guaranteed to succeed.”

The evidence of the off-the-wall solutions Gemma had come up with to solve her custody problem should have been a turnoff. Instead it only proved just how unprepared and unpracticed Gemma was at making love. The magazine further underlined her lack of experience with men in general. He knew from what she’d told him that she hadn’t made love since she’d gotten pregnant.

The thought of Gemma with a baby made his stomach tighten. Heated tension hummed through him. If the explosive attraction between them was not simply an obsessive sexual attraction and blossomed into an actual relationship, Gemma could one day be pregnant with his child.

The thought was out in left field, and that was where it would stay, he decided, until he was certain. He would not repeat his father’s mistake by risking the calm order he had worked so hard to restore to the business and his family by succumbing to a searing attraction.

* * *

Gemma surfaced from a restless dream instantly aware of the warmth and weight of Gabriel’s arm where it lay draped across her waist. A small sensual shock brought her fully awake as she registered the delicious heat of his body, the sheer intimacy of waking up and finding him sprawled next to her.

Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table she discovered that, despite trying to stay awake until Gabriel fell asleep, at some point she must have slept deeply, because it was now after five in the morning.

It was past time to go, although she was finding it unexpectedly difficult to revert to the businesslike mode she had decided was the only sensible way forward with this relationship.

Knowing she shouldn’t, she turned her head on the pillow and studied Gabriel’s face in the dimness of the early morning light. Hair tousled, his lashes inky crescents against olive skin, he looked younger, and uncannily like the Gabriel of six years ago.

Her heart squeezed tight in her chest. In sleep, he looked oddly vulnerable and she had to fight the urge to simply cuddle up to him and immerse herself in the simple pleasure of his heat and warmth. She had to keep reminding herself that Gabriel was no tame pussycat; if she gave an inch, he would take a mile. If she was going to manage her way safely through the next few days, without falling in love with him all over again, she would have to be strict with herself.

And the first rule, now that Gabriel was her boss and her soon-to-be fake fiancé, was no more sex. She had given in to him tonight because she simply hadn’t been able to resist. She had felt starved of affection, starved of love. Maybe because of all the stress and the shock of the custody battle she had been unexpectedly vulnerable.

Whatever the cause, if she wanted to enforce the no-sex rule, she would have to leave now, before she was enticed back into his arms and lost her willpower altogether.

She intended to leave him a note, outlining her conditions. She was certain, given the businesslike way Gabriel had couched her new job description, that once he adjusted to the fact that she would not continue to sleep with him, that he would be happy with the idea.

Shifting slightly, just enough to dislodge Gabriel’s arm, Gemma inched nearer the edge of the bed. Fully awake now, the chill of early morning registered. The gray light of dawn pushed through the enormous expanse of glass that framed the panoramic view of the Mediterranean, revealing the hedonistic chaos of the bedroom. Her clothes and Gabriel’s were scattered where they had discarded them, and at some point the silk coverlet had slipped off the bed and now lay tumbled on the floor.

Outside the piercing cry of a gull was loud enough that Gemma held her breath as Gabriel stirred restlessly. The rumpled silk sheet slipped low on his hips, exposing his long muscular torso and the intriguing line of hair that arrowed to his loins.

Setting her jaw against the instant tug on her senses, and annoyed with herself that after years of abstinence she was actually fickle enough to let herself be ruled by desire, Gemma worked her way free of the gorgeous, entangling sheets. Her feet landed softly on the bare expanse of the hardwood floor, the cool of the marble-smooth wood sending an involuntary shiver through her.

Overpoweringly aware of her nakedness and the faint stiffness that telegraphed just what she had been doing for half the night, Gemma was tempted to drag the silk coverlet off the floor and pull it around herself as a covering. Reluctantly, she abandoned the idea. It was a miracle she hadn’t woken Gabriel up already, and modesty came a bad second next to her need to leave and reestablish her collapsed boundaries.

Padding silently, she found her panties. As she straightened, she caught a ghostly view of herself in a carved gold full-length mirror. Her mind instantly slid back to the riveting, addictive pleasure she’d experienced making love with Gabriel. Cheeks warming, she scooped up her bra, which was dangling over the arm of a chair, and a little desperately reminded herself of the downside of all this.

Six years, and she had made the same mistake with the same guy, and once again without settling any of the vital issues, such as love and commitment. The only saving grace was that this time they had used contraception so she was safe from a second pregnancy.

Despite the fact that she absolutely did not want to get pregnant, the thought was oddly depressing, because it brought home the fact that as irresistible as the passion they had shared was, love had definitely not been involved.

It impressed upon her the need to stick to her resolve that there would be no more sex, because giving in would only signal to Gabriel that she would happily accept sex over love and commitment, that she didn’t require him to value her.

When the fake engagement was over, she could work on forgetting Gabriel. She had done it before; she could do it again.

As she bent to pick up her lace dress, which lay pooled on the floor, her fingers brushed Gabriel’s discarded shirt, which was lying next to it. Irresistibly tempted, she picked up the shirt instead.

The faint, clean masculine scent that clung to the fabric made her stomach clench on a zing of desire. Out of nowhere a shimmering wave of emotion hit her. If she’d had any sense she wouldn’t have done such a silly, sentimental thing as picking up his shirt, but now that she had, she didn’t want to relinquish it.

It was silly. She didn’t need a memento of their time together. She would see Gabriel again in just a few days when she started at Ambrosi Pearls, but by then their relationship would be back on a proper professional footing. Apart from the necessities of the charade, there would be no more intimacy, no more passionate kisses, no more snuggling in bed. And absolutely no more sex.

Although, it was a fact that the shirt would be a more practical piece of clothing to wear on Medinos in broad daylight than the sexy lace gown.

A rustling sound, Gabriel turning over in bed, made her freeze in place. She risked a quick look. He was now lying sprawled on his stomach on the side of the bed she had vacated. In the gray light slanting across the bed, the long line of his back looked muscular and sleek, his tanned skin exotically dark against the white silk. From the even tenor of his breathing, and his utter, boneless relaxation, he had simply turned over and was unaware that she had left the bed.

Letting out a silent breath of relief, Gemma padded quickly from the room. Minutes later, she had found her bag and retrieved her phone from Gabriel’s jacket pocket. She located a bathroom off the main living area. After using the facilities and washing her hands and face, she quickly dressed.

As she fastened the buttons of Gabriel’s shirt, she checked the effect in the large vanity mirror. Gauzy and white, the shoulder seams fell halfway to her elbows and the shirttails covered her to her knees.

She tried not to notice the wild tousle of her hair, or the fact that her mouth was faintly swollen and there was a faint red patch on her neck where Gabriel’s stubbled jaw must have scraped her skin.

A tinge of misery edged through her resolve as she rolled up the trailing shirt cuffs until they were bunched just above her wrists. The result wasn’t stylish, but it was acceptable. She could easily be someone who had gone for an early morning swim and had decided to use a shirt as a cover-up.

Her heart leaped in her chest as she checked her wristwatch and saw how much time had passed. She still needed to write her note. If she was going to get out of the house before Gabriel woke up, she would have to hurry.

Not bothering to finger comb her hair, she picked up her bag and padded to the kitchen. Finding a piece of notepaper, she quickly dashed off an explanatory note. She included her email and phone numbers, anchored it on the counter with a cup then padded to the front door. Remembering to turn the alarm off, she eased the door open and stepped outside. Her heart hammered as she gently closed the door. Simultaneously, her phone chimed.

Sending a brief prayer upward that she had gotten out of the house before Sanchia rang, she answered the call as she walked quickly, avoiding the drive and instead heading for the beach. The route to town was more direct and it would be easier on her bare feet.

The conversation was grounding. It was a relief to put her own needs aside and think of Sanchia’s instead, and for her daughter the equation was simple—she needed the security of her mother back in her life.

Gemma checked her watch again as she said good-night and ended the call. She then rang the airline and changed her flight. The extra cost made her stomach hollow out, but now that she had a job, she would be able to replenish her bank account.

A fifteen-minute walk to the hotel, and hopefully any press would still be in bed after the late night. She had an hour and a half until her flight. She had already done most of her packing, so all she really needed to do was pile the few things she’d left out into her case, zip it closed then catch a taxi. She would check in and board straight away.

Once she got to Sydney, she would sort all of the furniture and possessions she had left in storage, dispose of the things she didn’t need and have the rest freighted to New Zealand.

Number two on her list of things to do was change her appearance. The idea was extreme, but she was tired of the media sneaking around after her, and with her stylish clothes and red hair she was just too easy to spot.