Marriage Bargain With His Innocent

Their engagement is accidental.

Indulging their passion is deliberate...

Commanding tycoon Matias Silva is less long-term romance, more million-dollar business deals. Until his sweet childhood friend Georgie White anxiously confesses his family believes they’re engaged. Matias never does anything by halves—if they’re going to pretend, he’s all in. Whisking Georgie to his sprawling coastal mansion, he’ll ensure everyone believes their charade. But discovering Georgie’s true innocence suddenly makes their fake relationship feel unexpectedly—deliciously!—real...

Turn the page and begin this captivating fake engagement story!

CATHY WILLIAMS can remember reading Mills & Boon books as a teenager, and now that she’s writing them she remains an avid fan. For her, there is nothing like creating romantic stories and engaging plots, and each and every book is a new adventure. Cathy lives in London. Her three daughters—Charlotte, Olivia and Emma—have always been, and continue to be, the greatest inspirations in her life.

Also by Cathy Williams

The Secret Sanchez Heir

Bought to Wear the Billionaire’s Ring

Cipriani’s Innocent Captive

Legacy of His Revenge

A Deal for Her Innocence

A Diamond Deal with Her Boss

The Italian’s One Night-Consequence

The Tycoon’s Ultimate Conquest

Contracted for the Spaniard’s Heir

The Italian Titans miniseries

Wearing the De Angelis Ring

The Surprise De Angelis Baby

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Marriage Bargain with His Innocent

Cathy Williams

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08773-5

MARRIAGE BARGAIN WITH HIS INNOCENT

© 2019 Cathy Williams

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Extract

About the Publisher

GEORGINA LOOKED UP at the imposing Georgian mansion in front of which she was standing. Well, she would have expected nothing less.

She raised her hand to the doorbell. Her brain was saying Might as well get it over and done with while her feet were yelling Hang on just a minute...let’s think about this.

She went with the brain and pressed the buzzer before her feet could start winning the argument.

She was here now. She’d travelled hours to be here and she wasn’t going to slink away without telling the owner of this over-the-top mansion in Kensington—a man she had known since childhood, a man on whom she had had a very inconvenient crush when she’d been a kid of sixteen, that, Hey...guess what...? I bet you never thought that you and I would be in a relationship after all!

Matias had no idea who could be ringing his doorbell, but whoever it was deserved a Medal of Honour for the most timely interruption in history.

The icy blonde perched on his white leather sofa hadn’t stopped screaming for the past thirty-five minutes. She carried on screaming now, as she followed him out of the vast sitting room towards the front door.

‘I refuse to let you break up with me! I’ve told everyone that you’ll be coming to the anniversary party next weekend! I’ve bought a dress! There’s someone else, isn’t there? Who is she? Do I know her? How could you do this to me? I love you! I thought you loved me!’

Matias had stopped answering her questions ten minutes ago and he wasn’t going to start again now.

He pulled open the door and stopped short.

‘Matias.’ Georgina peered around him to the source of the high-pitched screaming. ‘I’m guessing I’ve come at a bad time?’

The feet were desperate to take to the hills, but she wasn’t quitting now that she was here. That said, she wanted to do nothing more than run away, because it didn’t matter how much she braced herself for Matias’s ridiculously stupendous good looks, every single time she saw him she was floored all over again.

Dry mouth, thudding heart, clogged brain...and a crashing reminder of what it had felt like to be an adolescent, with her hormones wildly out of control, in thrall to a guy who had never been short of his own personal fan club full of adoring hot babes from the age of thirteen. She’d kept her idiotic crush under wraps, but she could still burn with shame at the memory of it because she’d always been the last sort of girl he would ever have looked at.

‘Georgie, what the hell are you doing here?’

‘That’s not a very nice way to greet an old friend, is it? I’d rather not come back, Matias. I’ve spent hours on a train and I’m hot and tired and my feet need to rest.’ Or to take flight, she thought, willing her nerves to go away and thinking, yet again, how much she disliked the man. So stupidly sexy, and yet with a set of values that so got on her nerves.

‘Is my mother all right?’ Matias demanded.

‘Who are you?’

A blonde had materialised next to him and Georgina wondered whether Matias ever got bored of dating women who were clones of one another. Towering blondes with catwalk figures and a racy sense of fashion that was based on wearing as little as possible even in the depths of winter.

This particular blonde was wearing a tiny red mini-skirt and a tiny red top and some very high sandals because it was the height of summer.

‘Time for you to go, Ava.’

‘We could still make this work, Matias!’

Matias cast a sideways look at Georgina and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘No chance,’ he said grimly, rescuing her tiny tan designer bag from the table in the hall and handing it to her while channelling her towards the doorway. ‘You deserve better than me.’

Georgina rolled her eyes. She stood aside while the blonde walked past her, at least eight inches taller in her heels and as skinny as a runner bean.

‘That was considerate of you, Matias—softening the blow by telling her that she could do better than you,’ Georgina remarked, stepping inside the mansion and getting a glimpse of his departing back as he headed towards some other part of the house—probably the kitchen, because he looked as if he could use a stiff drink.

Charming, she thought, walking briskly behind him. What on earth did all those women see in him? Yes, he was rich. Yes, he was good-looking. But beyond that... There was nothing that appealed on any level. Which made it quite ironic, considering she was here to tell him that they had secretly been seeing one another, falling in love and getting embroiled in a hot and heavy relationship that was destined to lead...who knew where?

She felt queasy at the revelations about to be put on the table.

‘Well?’

Matias didn’t bother looking at her. He went straight to a cupboard, pulled out a bottle of whisky and poured himself a glass, offering her one as an afterthought, but obviously not really expecting her to take him up on the offer.

‘Your mother is fine. In a manner of speaking.’

‘I’ve had a hellish day, Georgie, so spare me the riddles. Not that it’s like you to beat about the bush. Bludgeon it into the ground is far more your style.’ He raised his eyebrows and didn’t look away when their eyes tangled. ‘I spoke to my mother two days ago and she sounded well, so what’s the matter with her?’

‘Nothing. Her health hasn’t deteriorated. I mean, she’s still weak after the stroke, and her speech isn’t quite back to normal, but she’s doing all the exercises the doctor recommended.’

‘Good.’

‘You have a wonderful house, Matias.’ She didn’t feel that the subject waiting to be broached could be broached quite yet. She needed to feel a bit more comfortable. Right now, her nerves were at breaking point. ‘And I will have that drink you offered, actually.’

‘Whisky?’

‘Wine, if you have any. Thank you.’

‘I’m warning you it’s not organic. It’s incredibly expensive, though, so please think twice about pouring it down the sink because it fails to meet your high standards.’

Matias strolled towards the fridge and withdrew a bottle of Chablis. He looked at her over his shoulder. She was dressed as she was always dressed, in some sort of flowery concoction that was designed to do absolutely nothing whatsoever for the female form. Long skirt, loose top... A veritable riot of colours, none of which flattered a woman who was small, round and had bright red hair.

Was it so hard to make an effort? he wondered.

‘Very funny, Matias.’

‘We both know how much you like to bang the drum for organic farming. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your social conscience.’

‘You can be really horrible, do you know that?’ she asked. But her voice was neutral, because she was busy looking round the spectacular kitchen with its shiny gadgets and space-age feel.

‘You’d miss it if I wasn’t,’ Matias murmured without batting an eye, and he held her gaze for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary before lowering his eyes, letting his lush dark lashes shield his expression. ‘What would you do with a nice, polite Matias?’

Georgina blushed—much to her annoyance—and glared. ‘I’ve spent hours travelling here to see you. The least you could do is to be nice to me.’

‘Yes, you have,’ Matias said thoughtfully, ‘and I’m wondering why. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’m burning up with curiosity. I don’t think you’ve ever come to this house, have you?’

‘You know I haven’t.’

‘In fact, I didn’t think you ever got out of deepest, darkest Cornwall.’

‘You’ve always been so scathing about Cornwall! Don’t you have any loyalty to the place where you were brought up?’

‘No. So, moving on, Georgie...’ He circled her the way a shark might circle a minnow, slowly, thoroughly, and with keen, watchful interest. ‘If you’re not here to talk about my mother, then what exactly are you doing here? Not that your arrival wasn’t opportune.’

He sat on the chair facing her and tugged another chair towards him so that he could stretch out his long legs.

Georgina opened her voice to give him a piece of her mind. His mother despaired of him. His women came and went with barely a pause for breath in between, because Matias Silva had the attention span of a toddler in a candy shop when it came to women.

She caught the veiled amused expression in his dark eyes and abruptly shut her mouth. He wanted to get a rise out of her and that was the last thing she needed.

Instead, she met his gaze steadily and coolly. It took willpower, because he was, without doubt, the most drop-dead gorgeous man she had ever seen. Blessed with the exotic genes of his Argentinian father and the spectacular beauty of his English mother, Matias had emerged into the world with the sort of physical advantages that made people stare and then turn around for a second look, because surely no one could be quite so spectacular.

She had long ago forgiven herself for her girlish crush. She just wished that her disobedient eyes could stop drinking him in the way they were doing right now.

His features were chiselled to perfection, but his bronzed colouring and raven-dark hair, which he always kept slightly too long, rescued him from being just another good-looking guy.

‘I am here to talk to you about your mother,’ Georgina said into the lengthening silence. ‘But could I just unwind for a bit? I’m exhausted.’

‘It’s seven o’clock. Have you eaten?’

‘I had some sandwiches on the train.’

‘I’ll take you out to dinner.’

‘I doubt I’m dressed for the sort of restaurants you’re likely to patronise,’ Georgina said wryly.

‘How would you know what sort of restaurants I’d be likely to patronise?’ he asked.

But he was smiling crookedly at her, reminding her that beneath their obvious, glaring and insurmountable differences, there were times when they were eerily tuned in to one another. Longevity and history, she presumed.

‘Because I’m smart like that.’ She was beginning to feel overheated. ‘Thank you. It’s very nice of you. But...er...no, thank you. Why don’t you show me round your lovely house? I’d far rather that.’

The plan Georgina had sketched out had been a hurried one—a response to circumstances, formulated on impulse and put on the table before she’d had time to think through the details and, more to the point, the glaring, inescapable downsides. By the time she’d sat back and thought about it, it had been too late to take it all back.

Rose Silva believed that her son was finally on the verge of settling down, if not with the girl of his dreams, then certainly the girl of hers. She adored Georgina.

She finally had something to live for. She would have a daughter-in-law she loved. Her son would be settled, as he should be, with no more of his silly cavorting with women who weren’t suited to him at all. There would be grandchildren. All would be right in the world.

In the space of five minutes, Georgie’s suggestion of a relationship with Matias had turned into a full-blown when-shall-I-start-looking-for-a-hat? response. Georgie had squashed that enormous leap as firmly as she could, but here she was, supposedly having a serious relationship with the guy looking at her now with those fabulous dark, dark eyes.

What had begun as an ill-thought-out but well-intentioned little white lie had taken on a life of its own faster than a rocket soaring into space. An entire future had been planned before Georgina had had time to draw breath—and now here she was.

‘Please don’t say a word to Matias,’ she had begged Rose, horrified at the thought of a congratulatory phone call to a guy who would have no idea what his mother was going on about. ‘We...er...planned on breaking it to you together... Just that we’re going out, Rose... Who knows where that will lead...?’

The feeble utterances had actually brought her out in a cold sweat and prompted her immediate departure to London. As his newly acquired girlfriend, didn’t she need to know the layout of his house? She still felt queasy.

‘You want to see my house? Why?’

‘You’re so scornful whenever you come down to Cornwall... I want to see what you have here that’s so superior.’

Matias tilted his head to one side and looked at her carefully. ‘Why am I getting the feeling that something’s going on here that I don’t know about?’

‘You don’t have to show me around if you don’t want to.’

‘Bring your drink. Maybe after a bit of alcohol you’ll tell me exactly what’s going on, Georgie.’

‘Why are you so suspicious?’

‘Because I wasn’t born yesterday. I also know you. Some might say better than I’ve ever known any woman. You’re here for a reason, and if it’s not because my mother needs me to come down to Cornwall for health reasons, then you’re here for something else and you’re too scared to come right out and tell me. Is it money?’

On his way to the sitting room to begin the grand tour, Matias stopped abruptly and looked at Georgina through narrowed eyes. He positioned himself so close to her that she could pick up the faint whiff of whatever expensive aftershave he wore. She automatically edged back.

‘You think I’m here to...to ask you for money? And you claim to know me?’

‘It’s not that far-fetched.’ Matias shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised how many people come crawling out of the woodwork to ask for money when they find out that I’m in a position to bestow it upon them.’

‘Why would I have to ask you for money, Matias? I have a job! I’m a food photographer! By your lofty standards it may not pay much, but it’s more than enough for me to live on! So why on earth would I have to come to you for a loan?’

‘No idea. Who knows what sort of financial trouble you might have got yourself into?’

He spun round and Georgina stared at him with outrage. No one had ever been able to rile her as much as Matias Silva. Or challenge her. Or generally send her nervous system into frantic overdrive. He was right. They knew one another—whether she cared to admit it or not.

From the side-lines she had watched the way he had turned into a forbidding and coolly remote adolescent after he had won a scholarship to a boarding school in Winchester. All pretence of having any interest in his parents’ organic farm had been dumped. Ambition had become his constant companion.

It was little wonder that he was now wondering whether she had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue because she needed a hand-out. For Matias, money was the only thing that made any sense. He’d never had much growing up, and he’d made it his life’s work to compensate for the lack.

Was it any wonder that they rubbed one another up the wrong way when they were as different as chalk and cheese? She was argumentative. He was intransigent. She was uninterested in money. Money was all he cared about. She loved where she lived. He hadn’t been able to wait to escape from it. She admired his parents. He privately scorned them.

‘Well? Spit it out, Georgie. Do you need a loan?’

He looked her up and down, head inclined to one side, his dark eyes coolly speculative. She didn’t think there was a man alive who got on her nerves more.

‘Have you been living beyond your means?’ he murmured with exaggerated interest. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of. Oh, wait... I can see why you might be ashamed, bearing in mind your holier-than-thou outlook on life which you’ve spent the past ten years droning on about.’

Georgina gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists. ‘I’m not here to ask you for money, Matias.’

‘Didn’t think you were.’ He moved off to begin their tour, pushing open doors without bothering to explain which room was used for what.

‘Why’s that?’ she asked.

All white. Minimalist. Big, expensive abstract art on the walls. A lot of chrome. The best money could buy. Again, no surprise there. Matias had gone to university a year early, studied Maths and Economics, and left with a job at an investment bank in his hand. Within five years he had made his first million and then he had started flying solo, buying up sick companies and turning them around. He’d invested in property on the side. By thirty he’d had an empire under his belt and more money than anyone could use in a lifetime. Every room she glimpsed bore witness to how rich he was.

No wonder Rose was intimidated by her billionaire only child.

‘He’s always been something of a genius,’ she’d once confided wistfully. ‘That’s why he’s never liked the simple life. It isn’t enough for him.’

‘Georgie,’ Matias was saying now, ‘it doesn’t take a genius, looking at you, to realise that you have no interest in anything that could possibly get someone into debt.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You’re not the typical picture of someone leading a raunchy life beyond her means. If you have a predilection for designer clothes, fast cars and jewellery then you’re doing a damn good job of keeping it under wraps. Besides...I remember you showing me your piggy bank when you a kid. You were very proud of the eight pounds sixty you’d managed to stockpile over six weeks. It would beggar belief that you’d go from parsimonious and proud saver to wildly extravagant spender. Now, do you want the tour to carry on upstairs?’

He looked at her and she wondered whether he realised just how offensive he could be.

‘Or have you relaxed sufficiently to tell me why you’re here? You may have had sandwiches on the train, but I’m hungry. I’ll get some food delivered. Let me know if you want to see the rest of the house and I’ll order when the tour is done.’

‘No—no need to go upstairs.’

She thought bedrooms and backed away from the thought fast. Despite loathing the man, it had always been way too easy to associate him with bedrooms—partly because he was so sexy, and partly because, even though time had moved on from that girlish infatuation, age had failed to completely extinguish the remnants of her crush. She still occasionally caught herself daydreaming about him. Fortunately she’d learnt how to avoid getting too embroiled in that kind of pointless fantasy.

‘Good.’ He headed back towards the kitchen, phoning for food on the way. ‘Where were you planning on spending the night?’

He looked at the battered khaki backpack which she had dumped on the ground in the kitchen.

‘B&B.’

Matias frowned. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he said shortly. ‘Didn’t you consider staying here? Don’t you think I’m not appreciative for everything you do for my mother and have done over the years? A night in my house is the least I could offer in return.’

Georgina flushed. ‘I shouldn’t be the one doing stuff for your mother, though, should I?’ she muttered, fidgeting.

‘When it comes to that old chestnut—been there, done that. I’ve heard every variation of criticism from you over the years, so let’s drop the topic and move on.’

Matias felt a flash of guilt dart through him like quicksilver. He had no reason to feel guilty. None at all. He supported his mother financially, made sure she wanted for nothing. It took hard work to make the sort of money that he did, and without his money life would not be nearly so rosy for his mother. When things went wrong in her house he made sure to replace them with top-of-the-range equivalents. Over time, her kitchen had been so expensively kitted out that any professional chef would have been happy to ply his trade there. And as for the farm...