A Very Fake Fiancée: The Fiancée Charade / My Fake Fiancée / A Very Exclusive Engagement. Nancy Warren
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leaked out from beneath her lids. It was stress and tiredness, nothing more. Using her fingers, she carefully wiped her cheeks, careful not to smear her mascara.
The doors slid open onto an empty corridor. Relieved, Gemma pushed the trolley into the service area and left it near the door to the kitchens. Head now throbbing with a definite headache, she walked to the sleek office that should have been officially hers as of next week, if the child welfare authorities hadn’t changed her priorities.
Instead of settling in her new job on Medinos and bringing Sanchia over to live with her here, she was now flying home on the first available flight. This office, and the job she had been about to start, would now be someone else’s.
Collecting the resignation she had written earlier, she walked briskly through to the manager’s office. It was empty, which was a relief, and she just placed it on his blotter. He was probably personally conducting other VIP guests, all here to attend the launch party of Ambrosi Pearls the following evening, to their rooms.
With her resignation now official, Gemma felt, if not relieved, at least a sense of closure.
As she turned to leave, she noticed a typed guest list for the Ambrosi Pearls party. It was being held at the Castello Atraeus, but resort personnel and chefs were handling the catering.
She flipped the list around. Gabriel Messena’s name leaped out at her.
She felt as if all the breath had just been knocked from her lungs. He would be here, on Medinos, tomorrow night.
An odd feeling of inevitability, a dizzying sense of déjà vu, hit her, which was crazy. With an effort of will, she dismissed the notion that fate was somehow throwing them back together.
Gabriel appearing on the scene right now, when she was trying to cope with a long-distance custody battle for Sanchia, was sheer coincidence. He was about to get engaged. There was no way on this earth she should ask for his assistance despite the fact that he was Sanchia’s biological father.
She needed to stick to her plan.
If Zane truly did want her, and they could cement their relationship in some public way, all of her problems would be solved. The welfare people could no longer claim she was an irresponsible “good-time girl,” the nanny’s lies would be discredited and her financial situation would no longer be a problem.
Although, scarily, to get them to that point, she was going to have to take the initiative and somehow jolt them off the platonic plateau they had been stranded on for the past two years.
It was possible that Zane felt constrained by the fact that she worked for his family company. But as of today, she was a free agent. The specter of an employer/employee relationship was no longer an issue.
Gabriel checked his wristwatch as he walked off his flight to Medinos and into the first-class lounge, which was filled with a number of businessmen and groups of gaudily dressed tourists.
Impatiently, he skimmed the occupants. His younger brother, Nick, who was due in from a flight from Dubai, had requested an urgent meeting with him here.
Five minutes and half a cup of dark espresso later, Gabriel glanced up as Nick strolled in, looking broad-shouldered and relaxed in a dark polo and trousers. Dropping into the seat next to Gabriel, he flipped his briefcase open.
Gabriel took the thick document Nick handed him, a building contract for a high-rise in Sydney, a thick sheaf of plans and a set of costings. “Good flight?”
Nick grunted and gave him a “you’ve got to be kidding” look, then transferred his attention to the newspaper Gabriel had set down on the coffee table with its glaringly bright photograph. “Zane.” Amused exasperation lightened his expression. “In the news again, with another woman.”
For reasons he didn’t want to examine, Gabriel folded the newspaper and placed it on the floor beside his briefcase.
He had read the article again on the flight. The journalist hadn’t gone so far as to say the child was Zane’s—the details supplied had been sketchy and inflammatory—but the inference was clear enough.
Turning his attention back to the document Nick wanted him to look over, he forced himself to concentrate on his family’s most pressing problem. An archaic clause in his father’s will, and his elderly uncle and trustee, Mario Atraeus, which together had the power to bankrupt them all if he didn’t move swiftly.
The situation had been workable until Mario had started behaving erratically, refusing to sign crucial documents and “losing” others. Holdups and glitches were beginning to hamper the bank’s ability to meet its financial obligations.
Lately, Mario’s eccentricities had escalated another notch, when he had tried to use his power as trustee to leverage a marriage between Gabriel and Mario’s adopted daughter, Eva Atraeus.
In that moment, Gabriel had understood what lay behind Mario’s machinations. A widower, he was worried about dying and leaving his adoptive daughter alone and unmarried. In his mind, steeped in Medinian traditions, he would not have done his job as a father if he hadn’t assured a good marriage for Eva.
Gabriel, as the unmarried head of the Messena family, had become Mario’s prime matchmaking target.
Gabriel was clear on one point, however. When he finally got around to choosing a wife, it would be a matter of his choice, not Mario’s, or anyone else’s.
He would not endure a marriage of convenience simply to honor family responsibilities.
Placing the document on the coffee table, he checked his watch. “I can’t release the funds. I wish I could. I’ll have to run it past Mario.”
A muscle pulsed along the side of Nick’s jaw. “It took him two months to approve the last payment. If I renege now, the building contractor will walk.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll be able to swing something. Or Mario might sign.”
“There is one solution. You could get married.” Nick’s expression was open and ingenuous as he referred to the grace clause in their father’s will, which had its base in Medinian tradition. Namely, that a formally engaged or a married man was more responsible and committed than a single one. It was the one loophole that would decisively end Mario’s trusteeship of his father’s will and place control of the company securely in Gabriel’s hands.
Nick slipped his cell out of his briefcase. “Or you could get engaged. An engagement can be easily terminated.”
Gabriel sent his younger brother a frowning glance, which was wasted as Nick was busy reactivating the phone and flicking through messages. No doubt organizing his own very busy, very crowded, private life.
Sometimes he wondered if any of his five brothers and sisters even registered the fact that he was male, single and possessed a private life of his own, even if it was echoingly empty. “There won’t be a marriage, or an engagement. There’s a simpler solution. A psychological report on Mario would provide the grounds we need to end his trusteeship.”
Either that, or hope that he could work around the financial restraints Mario was applying for another tortuous six months until he turned thirty-one and could legally take full control of the family firm.
“Good luck with getting Uncle Mario to a doctor.” Nick’s gaze was glued to the screen of his cell as he thumbed in a text message. “I don’t know how you stay so calm.”
By never allowing himself to get emotionally involved with his own family.
The practice kept him isolated and a little lonely, but at least he stayed sane.
Nick gave up texting and sat back on the couch, the good-humored distraction replaced by a frown. “Mario could ruin us, you know. If you can get him to the doctor, how long will it take to get the report?”
Gabriel