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

Twelve

Gemma dressed for the evening in a slinky tangerine gown Gabriel’s sister Sophie had helped her choose. Gabriel arrived, still dressed in the suit he’d worn to the office, to pick her up, but insisted on coming in for a moment.

Reluctant to allow him in because the place was dotted with photographs of Sanchia, and the odd toy, she agreed, then rushed around, jamming photos and toys in cupboards.

She left one photograph of Sanchia as a chubby baby out, because it would be strange if she didn’t have any. Even that was a risk, because with her dark hair and eyes Sanchia looked heart-stoppingly like a Messena.

When Gabriel stepped inside her apartment, she logged his instant, searing appreciation and felt suddenly self-conscious. The tangerine dress was much more her natural style—bright and pretty with an edge of sophistication. But after seeing Simone in his office, with her subtle, perfectly cut clothes and serene beauty, she wondered a little desperately what Gabriel found attractive about her.

He slipped the Fabergé case out of his pocket and extracted the diamond necklace. “I want you to wear this tonight, as well.”

Gemma stared at the cascade of diamonds shooting off fiery sparks under her lights. “Because Mario will expect it.”

Gabriel’s gaze was abruptly soft enough to make her heart melt. “No. Because I’d like you to wear them.”

“That is not a good answer.”

“It’s the truth.”

She drew a breath and turned, lifting the weight of her hair away from her neck.

The oval mirror in the hall framed Gabriel as he fastened the necklace at her nape. She fingered the diamonds where they warmed against her skin. The pure, fiery light of the jewels was a perfect foil for the dress. “They look beautiful.” Although almost all of her attention was on his hands where they cupped her bare shoulders.

“They suit you.”

Taking a deep breath, she smiled brightly. “Diamonds suit anyone.”

She moved away from his touch before she did something sillier, like turning into his arms and kissing him. Instead, she picked up her evening bag and the wrap, which was neatly folded on the small table in the hall.

Gabriel paused beside the small table beneath the mirror. “Is this a picture of Sanchia?”

Her heart banged against the wall of her chest as she saw Gabriel with the baby photo in his hands. “Yes.”

A small silence formed as he replaced the frame on the table. Feeling worse than she had expected to feel, Gemma opened the door and pointedly waited.

Gabriel’s gaze was enigmatic as he walked out onto her front porch, and she wondered a little anxiously if he’d seen any resemblance to photos of other Messena babies.

Gabriel held the car door for her then walked around and climbed into the driver’s seat. As he accelerated away she sent him a fleeting glance. “So who’s cooking tonight?”

“If you’re asking me if I can cook, I can, but it’s strictly survival stuff. Maris rang a local restaurant that caters dinner parties. They’re delivering.”

Warmed by the relaxed timbre of his voice, the way that he loosened off his tie as he drove, as if he was unwinding from the day’s work, Gemma looked away from the clean lines of his profile and tried to focus instead on the neon signs and illuminated shop windows of downtown Auckland.

Gabriel ran the gamut of Queen Street and the series of traffic lights then turned along the waterfront. Eventually, he turned into a gated apartment complex in Mission Bay.

Opening the front door of an apartment that was the size of a small mansion, with ground-floor access and three stories, he allowed her to precede him into the hall then on into a large lounge with a towering ceiling. He checked his watch. “I need to shower and change before Mario and Eva get here. Make yourself at home.”

He showed her the kitchen and formal dining room and invited her to help herself to the trays of drinks and nibbles the caterers had left out.

Setting her evening bag and wrap down on one of the stools that were grouped along the kitchen bar, Gemma decided to familiarize herself with the apartment before Eva and Mario arrived. Since she was supposed to be Gabriel’s fiancée, it would look a little strange if she didn’t even know where the bathroom was.

Gabriel had gone upstairs, so she figured it was safe enough to open doors downstairs. On her second try she found a small gleaming bathroom. As she closed the door, the front doorbell buzzed.

Adrenaline arrowed through her veins as she walked to the door and opened it. She wasn’t ready; she hadn’t had time to look through kitchen cupboards or work out the stereo, but it was too late now. When she opened the door, an ultrasexy and quite lovely brunette stepped inside, carrying a frosted bottle of champagne.

A small frown pleated her brow when she saw Gemma. “Hello. Are you a friend of Gabriel’s?”

Gemma took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m his fiancée.”

Shock registered in her gaze. Her eyes dropped to Gemma’s left hand. “He gave you the Fabergé.”

When she didn’t say anything more, Gemma calmly asked if there was anyone else to come in. When Eva indicated there wasn’t, that her father was arriving later, she closed the door. “Gabriel’s, uh, just in the shower. Come through and I’ll get you a drink.”

That was, if she could find the glasses.

Eva strolled to the kitchen, not waiting for Gemma. “How long have you known Gabriel?”

Gemma almost gave a sigh of relief. At least this part was easy enough. “Years. Most of my life, actually.”

“Then you must be from Dolphin Bay.”

Gemma began opening cupboard doors, looking for glasses. “Yes.”

Eva frowned, somehow managing to look even more gorgeous. “You look familiar. Maybe I’ve seen you at a family gathering?”

Gemma pretended not to hear that one. Finally, she found wineglasses and set them on the counter. When she picked up the bottle of wine, thankfully it had a screw top so she didn’t have to search for a corkscrew.

Eva took the glass of wine she poured and walked into the lounge to stare out at the view. “If you were at Constantine’s wedding, maybe I saw you there.”

Gemma studied the taut expression of Eva’s face, the combative stance. “I wasn’t at Constantine’s wedding.”

“But you know him?”

“Yes, I do.” Gemma bit her tongue against the urge to supply more information, just in case Eva guessed who she really was.

Feeling stressed, and wishing Gabriel would hurry up and come down, she bypassed the wine and poured herself a glass of water instead. The way the night was going, she was going to have to keep her wits about her.

Eva returned to the kitchen counter and set her glass of wine down. “I hope you don’t mind if I put on some music? Gabriel’s got a great collection of jazz.”

Gemma tried for her best neutral smile, the one she used to soothe prickly clients. “Be my guest.”

As soon as Eva disappeared into another smaller lounge, evidently the place where the stereo system was to be found, Gemma started up the stairs. As she reached the top, Gabriel stepped out of the shower, a snowy white towel wrapped around his waist. “Eva and Mario are here?”

Loud music began to play. Gemma raised her voice. “Just Eva and a bottle of champagne. Apparently Mario’s coming later.”

He dragged the fingers of one hand through his damp hair. “Champagne? Damn, there must be something in the air.”

Eva’s voice drifted up from the bottom of the stairs, her face vivid and engaging. “Dad’s got a meeting. He’ll be here in half an hour.” She frowned. “Gabriel...you didn’t tell me you were getting engaged.”

“It’s only just happened,” he said smoothly, and pulled Gemma close.

Her hands skidded over his damp abdomen as she found herself plastered against his side. His arm came around her, clamping her tight against him. Before she could protest, Gabriel dropped a light kiss on her mouth, then she was free.

* * *

If the drinks were difficult, dinner was worse.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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