The Fiancé by Stefanie London
CHAPTER SIX
Daniel
EVERYTHINGISGOING according to plan. After the media snapped us coming out of the supply closet on Friday night—dishevelled and holding hands—it was all over the internet by morning.
“Cinderella Story: Catering Waitress Snags Australia’s Most Eligible Bachelor.”
Funny how I went from being an amoral cheating bastard to “most eligible” in only a night. But it tells me that we’re not only making lemons into lemonade, we’re slapping a fancy label on it and passing it off as artisanal.
Some tabloids are still touting the affair rumours, but there has definitely been a change of tune across the board, according to my head of PR. She rushed into my office this morning with the good news, and a congratulations, of course. Stumbling across Ava might possibly have been the best thing that could have happened right now.
Although, I can see we have a bit of work to do. Ava sits so far to the other side of the back seat, her arm pressing against the limo’s door, it’s almost like she thinks I’m going to bite her. Or worse.
“You didn’t have to come to pick me up yourself,” she says, eyeing me. Instead of her slicked-back ponytail from the night of the Cielo launch, her hair is loose. It swirls around her shoulders, catching the light. Looking rich like espresso one minute, then warm like burnt toffee the next. “I assumed you’d be too busy.”
“And I assumed it might be weird for you to walk into my apartment by yourself,” I reply. Truthfully, I am too busy to be doing this. But a good CEO doesn’t do everything on their agenda; they simply know how to prioritise.
Right now, making Ava feel comfortable enough to play a convincing fiancée is at the top of my list.
“It’s weird to be riding in a limo, to be honest. I’ve never met someone who owned one before,” she says. “But I’m guessing this is normal for you.”
“It is. Although sometimes I like to drive myself, if I need to get out and think. The Maserati needs to be taken for a spin every so often.”
“Oh.” She rolls her eyes. “My apologies. I’ve never met anyone who owns a limousine and a Maserati.”
I stifle a smile as the car whisks us out of Ava’s street and toward the central business district. I live in a penthouse apartment facing the river, in a building I acquired and renovated as my first major project with the family business.
Ava remains glued to the door, even after we’ve been driving for a full five minutes.
“I don’t bite, you know.” I watch as her mouth tightens. She doesn’t like being called out, apparently. “Unless you’re getting up close and personal with that door because you’ve got some kind of car fetish?”
“No, I don’t have a fetish, thank you very much. And I’m sure you don’t bite. But I know nothing about you and yet I’m going to stay in your home and...” Her eyes are wide as she twists the hem of her simple floral dress in one hand. But the nervous action drags the fabric up and flashes me part of her thigh. My pulse quickens in response. “It’s crazy. I’m like some naive girl in a Liam Neeson film only I don’t know anyone with a very special set of skills who’s going to save me if you decide to sell me on the black market.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “If you’re worried that I am going to abduct you, then it’s probably not wise to tell me you don’t have anyone to save you.”
“See!” She throws her hands up in the air. “I’m TSTL.”
“What’s that?”
“Too stupid to live.”
“No, you’re not. I bet you googled the shit out of me before you left, right?” I shoot her a look and she nods. “See, there’s an electronic trail. Plus the whole world knows we’re together and they always suspect the boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” she corrects me with a hint of a smile.
“You’re more useful to me alive.”
“Gee, thanks.” Ava rolls her eyes, but I can still see that smile tugging at the corner of her full lips. She’s relaxed against the back seat of the limo now, and I think my charms might have worked on her.
Charms, really?
That’s not usually a word associated with me. Ambitious, driven, single-minded. Arrogant. They all get bandied around at length, because I refuse to pander to the press who’ve tortured my family since I was a child. They do not see me as charming. Therefore, the world doesn’t see me as charming.
Truthfully, the world has no idea who I am behind my suit and my job title. I keep that part of me—the real me—locked up tight. Protected. Even from myself.
“Look, we were backed into a corner and a decision had to be made on the spot,” I say. “We seized the opportunity to improve both of our situations.”
“But what if people ask questions? I didn’t even recognise you in the cupboard, so how am I supposed to act like we’ve been dating for months?”
Good point. Not so much to fool the press, but I have an even bigger, more important audience to worry about: my brother. “What do you want to know? I’ll give you the speed-date version now.”
Ava shifts on the spot, turning her body so she’s looking at me directly. The dress she’s wearing is soft and touchable, a light grey cotton with embroidered white and pink flowers and little sleeves that flutter around her arms. There’s a subtle V at the neckline that hints at treasures beneath—and unfortunately I saw enough two nights ago to mentally fill in the blanks.
“What’s your favourite movie?” she asks.
“The Godfather.”
“Favourite food?”
“Pasta al forno.”
“Favourite place in the world?”
“Tuscany.”
Her eyes crinkle with laughter. “Are you just naming Italian things?”
“Are you trying to tell me I’m a cliché?” I slide my hands down my thighs, the thick denim an unusual sight. Most weekdays I wear a suit. But I left the office early, opting to take all my afternoon calls from home so I could pick up Ava. The second she’s settled, I need to get back to it. Although she’s right, we do need to get to know one another. “I also happen to like soccer, gelato and Formula 1.”
“You are a cliché.” The smile lighting her face is enough to power a city. If she’s this sweet and charming come dinnertime, then this whole mess might be wrapped up easier than I thought.
Hopefully then my life can go back to normal. No more headache-inducing drama. No more having my brother think I’m nothing but a carbon copy of our father. No more sleepless nights, tossing and turning with fury.
You know Ava is going to cause sleepless nights.
Okay, so having a beautiful woman around 24/7 for the next week will be a distraction...but I’m perfectly capable of keeping myself in check. But even as I think that, I feel anticipation crawling through my bloodstream. It’s been too long since I let myself indulge.
“And what do I need to know about you?” I ask.
“Well, I’m a teacher... Although I can only get relief teaching shifts at the moment. You know, funding cuts and whatnot. I love working with children and helping them learn. It’s one thing I’m really passionate about.” The tone of her voice is so genuine that for a moment, it sounds almost foreign. “My favourite colour is sea-foam green. I have a sweet tooth. I love B-grade action movies, and my hidden talent is being able to tie a cherry stem with my tongue.”
Good lord, I do not need to imagine that.
I clear my throat and hope that she doesn’t see how my brain tried to short-circuit itself. “See, now we’re best friends.”
“Except we have to pretend to be more than friends.”
I might not have any idea how to appear in love—fact is, I’ve never seen it in the flesh. Not with my parents. Not with any relationship I’ve ever been involved in. I thought, for a moment, that I might have seen it with Marc and Lily.
Pretending to be head over heels in lust however... Now that I can do. And isn’t that a mark of the newly engaged? They can’t keep their hands off one another.
Given Ava’s plush lips, unusual eyes and wicked curves, she may as well have been made precisely to trigger my desires. Which is a good thing for our act, and troublesome for my sanity behind closed doors. Perhaps burying myself in this new CEO role to the exclusion of literally everything else for the past twelve months wasn’t as smart as I’d thought. Because now it’s hard to look at Ava without my mind wandering to what’s hiding under that wispy little dress.
“Only while people are watching,” I reply, as much for my own benefit as for hers.
“So what’s the plan for today?” she asks.
“We’ve got the afternoon to ourselves, so you can settle in and I’ll get some work done. Then it’s dinner with my family.”
“The whole family?” she asks. “I thought we only needed to convince your brother.”
It would have been easier if it was just Marc. But no, my mother has gone into full mama-bear mode. Formidable as she is, her sons are her whole world. Our fighting must be killing her inside, because she instilled in us both from a young age how important it was that we take care of one another. But Marc won’t let go of the rumours unless he believes nothing happened.
No amount of matriarchal interference will change his mind.
“My mother will be there, as will Lily. It’ll be better with a bit of a buffer between me and Marc, anyway.”
It’s sad that our relationship has come to this—we were so close as kids. Now everything is splintered. Fractured.
“No time like the present, I guess,” Ava says, clapping her hands together. “Rip it off like a Band-Aid.”
“Do you normally spout colloquialisms when you’re nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.” Her tone is indignant.
“Do you normally lie when you’re nervous?” I shoot her a sidelong glance and she frowns, her brows furrowing above an adorably pert nose.
“I feel like you’re going to talk circles around me,” she mutters, turning her face to the window as the world rushes by. “What if your family hates me?”
“It doesn’t matter if they hate you. They only need to believe you.”
“Don’t you care?” She turns and tilts her head, her warm eyes assessing with laser-like focus. She’s a woman who could see too much. Get too close.
But my desire to keep people at arm’s length has had years to set down roots, to grow strong. Watching my mother fall apart at the seams while my father stomped on their vows by fucking his way around the world solidified my need to protect myself. Watching her cry and beg him to come back after all he’d done... Well, that showed me one important thing.
Love makes you weak.
“If my own brother can accuse me of having an affair with his wife, then why should I care about his opinion? Clearly, he knows nothing about me.” I force myself to pause and take a breath. My head might be swirling but I need to keep my focus. I have a job to do and I want it done as quickly as possible. “I need to fix this before it does any more damage to my company.”
“To your company.” Ava bobs her head. “Interesting choice of words.”
Her comment rankles, because I have always cared about my family. I spent my whole bloody childhood shielding Marc from the demise of our parents’ relationship—distracting him with endless games of soccer in our street while my parents screamed at one another inside. It’s the reason he still believes in marriage and love...at least, until recently.
The thought of having to face my brother after his accusation makes me feel hollowed out. What happened to the happy-go-lucky guy who was my sidekick from the day he was born?
Maybe Marc is sick of being your sidekick.
I thought we had a good thing going. I took care of the broader company strategy and set the new direction and he applied his brilliant mind to the numbers. We need both sets of skills—my big-picture approach and Marc’s intense eye for detail.
And without him, our acquisition of Livingstone Spas is on shaky ground. The small boutique spa company has properties scattered along desirable portions of Australia’s east coast, and it’s a core part of my strategy to get Moretti Enterprises a foothold in the luxury wellness market.
But Marc is close with Henry Livingstone. If he decides to get in Henry’s ear about the “affair,” then... I can kiss this acquisition goodbye.
Ava stares at me, clearly waiting for a response while my mind is still spinning.
“I didn’t bring you here to judge me,” I reply. “And if I don’t care about their opinion, what makes you think I care about yours?”
Perhaps it makes me sound like a bastard, but I did not become a CEO by worrying about other people’s opinions. That way lies a path to poor decisions.
This has to go smoothly. I need Marc to come back to the company and ensure this deal goes through. If he does that, then the media should finally quieten down. As for the mess that is our relationship... Well, that’s a whole other story.
One I’m not sure will have a happy ending.
“An evening with the family whose opinions you don’t care about,” Ava says, looking as though she’s trying to muster something. “That should be fun. Not.”