The Fiancé by Stefanie London
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Daniel
AFTERWEARRIVE in Nice, France, things between Ava and I are...different. We’re somehow more and less comfortable with one another. We’re sleeping in separate rooms, but every time we pass one another in the airy, light-flooded villa there’s a tension that crackles. A little spark that threatens to catch if I don’t remain vigilant.
The day after we arrived, I took Ava out for a tour of the Promenade des Anglais and talked about the varying architectural styles which spread from Paris to Nice and other parts of France during the Belle Époque period. She soaked it all in, eagerly asking questions until I found myself lost in my personal passion for historical architecture.
It’s not often I get to geek out with a willing ear, let me tell you.
Then we had dinner at a small, intimate restaurant and she told me all about the gap year she spent backpacking around Europe. We’ve been to many of the same places and we swapped stories about our favourite piazzas in Italy and the Christmas markets in Germany and Austria. By the following morning, there were several pictures of us floating around online and I have to admit that if I didn’t know any better... I would assume we were in love.
But ever since I showed Ava the images, she’s been distant. Standoffish. I know it must make her uncomfortable—media attention isn’t something I’ve gotten fully used to myself. My uncle sat me down a few years back, and explained that attention is like a tool. It’s sharp-edged and dangerous if you’re not careful, but when wielded by someone with skill it can accomplish great things. Ever since then, I’ve tried to view it for what it can give me: exposure for my company, recognition for the hard work of my staff, raising the profile of my family name.
“If only that’s where the focus stayed,” I mutter to myself as I stare at my laptop screen. A second later, the familiar ringtone of Skype slices through the quiet air. It’s Marc.
Bracing myself, I accept the call. My brother’s face fills the screen. He’s sitting on a balcony. I recognise the glittering view behind him—the line of lights along Chapel Street, the growing cluster of towers from the CBD in the distance. These days he lives in the city with Lily, but this view is from his old apartment. An apartment I thought he was planning to sell.
“You can stop what you’re doing, Dan.” He rakes a hand through his hair in a way that’s like looking into a mirror. “I see through your bullshit, okay? Even if the media doesn’t.”
I clench my jaw. I knew Marc would be a tough sell, but I’d hoped there was some part of him that still wanted to see the best in me.
A part you were hoping to exploit?
I shove the inconvenient thought to one side. “Excuse me?”
“I know your relationship is a sham,” he says bluntly. “And I know you think diverting my attention will make me forget about you and Lily.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “This whole thing is ludicrous. I’m your brother.”
“And?”
“I don’t need to steal anyone’s wife,” I say, controlling my voice. “Why would I screw around when I have such a beautiful woman already in my bed?”
Do not think about Ava being in your bed. Do not think about Ava being in your bed.
But the image forces its way through all the dark emotions simmering inside me, as if she’s a ray of light parting storm-heavy clouds. At dinner she’d reached for my hand, her eyes alight as I talked about my travels.
It’s all for show, I know that.
“You have a beautiful woman that you’re using to prove a point,” Marc accuses, jabbing his finger at his computer screen. The image flickers for a second while his internet connection stalls. “I hope, for her sake, that she knows what this is all about.”
A guilty lump forms at the back of my throat. But I can’t worry about Ava—she does know what this is about. Neither one of us went into this blind.
“I really hope you’re not selling her a lie, Daniel.” Marc shakes his head. “You’ve always had a fucked-up relationship with commitment.”
“Says you,” I spit.
“I got married,” he counters. “I was ready to give Lily everything.”
“What about me? We’re supposed to be brothers and you treat me like the enemy.” I shake my head. “You’ve only ever wanted what I had and when you don’t get it, you throw a tantrum and make shit up to drive a wedge between us.”
“I know what I saw.” Marc’s tone is frostier than usual.
“That’s right, the mystical photo.” I roll my eyes.
Marc lets out a growl of frustration—the sound is inhumane. Born of real, true pain. The kind of pain you can incur only when you make yourself vulnerable to another person—the way Marc has with Lily. The way my mother did with my father.
The way I will never allow myself to be.
“Show it to me.” I stare at the screen. “If you think you have proof, then I want to see it.”
A second later an email notification pops up on my screen. There’s nothing in the subject line, no text in the body. Just an attachment. Inside is a picture—a convincing picture—of what looks like Lily and me in a close embrace, almost kissing. She’s wearing a flowing red dress, her hair pulled back into an elegant twist. There’s a timestamp on the bottom of the photo, indicating it was taken three months ago.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. If it was anyone else in the picture, I would believe the story it told. “I swear this never happened. The photo is doctored.”
Marc doesn’t bother to argue with me. Of course, he called knowing I would deny it. “You’ve done something that can’t be undone.”
The finality in his words hits like a punch straight to my gut. “If you really believe that then you don’t know me at all.”
Marc’s eyes are like fire. “You’re so far up in your ivory tower nobody knows you.”
The acid-edged accusation eats away at me, dissolving my usually cool veneer. Why would I let anyone know me, when it’s clear the closer people get to you, the more havoc they wreak on your life? My own brother, the flesh and blood I’ve fiercely protected since we were children, thinks I’m capable of the ultimate betrayal.
As far as I’m concerned, I’m the smart one. I’ve known from an early age how to protect myself, and I’ve never wavered. Not once. Not for anybody.
And that sure as hell isn’t going to change now.
“If you really think I’m capable of this, then...” I scrub a hand over my face. “I don’t know what to tell you, Marc. Maybe this is your way of getting out of a marriage you knew was a bad idea in the first place.”
For a moment I think he’s going to hang up on me. I shouldn’t have let my mouth run off, but dammit, I’m angry. I’m furious. I’m so filled with rage and resentment that I want to take the bloody laptop and hurl it through a glass pane.
“You think I want to believe my own brother would take my wife away from me?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Why wouldn’t I believe it? You’ve taken everything else. Zio gave you the CEO job without even considering that there might be a better option. Without even considering that you would run the company the way you do everything else in your life, without an ounce of emotion.”
“So that’s what this is about, the fact that I got the job you wanted.” I had known Marc would be hurt when I was promoted above him, but this is my place. My role.
“It’s about you, Daniel, and how you think the world should be grateful for your existence. Your ego is stifling.” He shakes his head. “And the fact that you plucked some poor woman out of thin air to pose as your fiancée, in an effort to dodge responsibility... It’s disgusting. Dad would be so proud.”
I’m about to spit fire and brimstone at my brother when the call disconnects. Typical Marc, he never stands his ground in a fight. He’s happy to set everything on fire and then run away. And he thinks I won’t take responsibility.
Bullshit.
I stare at the photo for what feels like an hour. It’s fake. But how can I prove it? Marc will believe what he wants to believe.
A second later, there’s another email from him in my inbox. The subject line reads: Don’t drag Ava through this bullshit. Let her go and I’ll make sure Livingstone upholds his end of the bargain.
Marc has always been a bleeding heart. But he needn’t worry about Ava. She knows what this is.
I put my head down and vow to forget about Marc for the rest of the day. After spending another hour taming my inbox and making sure everything is running smoothly back home in my absence, I close my laptop.
Shaking my head, I stalk out onto the terrace that overlooks the gardens. Lush greenery fills every corner of the space, and a big orange tree sits heavy with fruit, scenting the air with tart sweetness. Below, the pool glimmers in the light as a body slices through the water with almost surgical efficiency. Ava’s back is mostly exposed, save for the straps of a skimpy swimsuit she bought on our day out yesterday.
For a moment I can only stare—she’s like a mythical creature, so beautiful and graceful it captivates me. Memories flash of our night together, the way her body undulated beneath mine. The way she had no shyness in letting me know what she wanted. Thinking about that is enough to make something primal and white-hot filter through my system.
It blanks out the feelings about Marc and the disaster that is our family right now. And for that, I’m grateful.
I head downstairs. Two large double doors sweep open to the gardens and, at that moment, Ava is getting out of the pool. She twists her long brown ponytail. Water runs in rivulets down her curvy body, making her skin sparkle. There’s a whole lot of straps doing crisscross things, but the swimsuit hides nothing—not the fullness of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples, nor her strong shoulders and shapely hips.
I try to swallow but my mouth is devoid of moisture.
I want her. Again.
My cock pulses behind my dress pants. I want to bend her over one of the banana lounges and yank her swimsuit to one side.
I clear my throat and shove the images away. “Good afternoon.”
“Is it afternoon already? Wow.” Ava wraps a towel around herself and smiles, oblivious to the rampant attraction running through my veins. “I couldn’t resist taking a dip. It’s such a beautiful day.”
“You swim very well.”
You swim very well?
What kind of a comment is that? Jesus. Whoever thought I was a smooth lady-killer should see me now. Ava has me so tied up in knots, I sound stiff as a board. Hell, I am stiff as a board. This is ridiculous. I’m acting like I’ve never seen a woman in a swimsuit before.
“Thanks.” Mercifully, she doesn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. “I can’t even remember the last time I was in a pool.”
I watch the water drops slide over her skin, tracking across her freckles as though playing connect-the-dots. With her hair darkened by the water, her eyes look even more vibrantly warm, the coppery flecks glinting in the sun.
“We’re going out tonight,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
“To the opera?” An honest and open smile filters across her face as I nod. “I’ve always wanted to see one. Good thing I decided to pack those fancy dresses.”
I don’t want her in a dress. I want her naked and writhing beneath me. Inappropriate thoughts zip across my brain. I’m angry at my brother, that’s all. This is nothing but a survival mechanism—focusing on what feels good. What tempts me.
And Ava tempts me more than any woman I have ever known.
“You okay, Daniel? You look a little...flushed.” Her lips curve into a wicked smile. Gone is the remote woman who’s been avoiding me since the pictures came out. At any sign that she might get the upper hand, the seductress comes out to play.
“It’s warm out,” I say.
“You’re right, it is warm.”
I’ve stepped into her web, played into her trap. Ava releases the towel and it slithers down her body, showing me all that wet, white fabric clinging to her. Showing me the shadow of her nipples and the sweet little vee of her sex.
I’m going to have her again.
I know it even before my brain has the chance to refute it. Tonight, I’m going to taste her again even if it’s the riskiest thing I could possibly do. Because dammit, I deserve something decent in the clusterfuck that is my life right now. I deserve something that makes me feel whole and good.
And Ava is my something good.
“Wear something that shows off your legs,” I tell her. “The black dress with the slit.”
Her nostrils flare and her eyes are like twin flames, but she says nothing. That’s right, Ava. Don’t forget who’s boss here.