A Very Fake Fiancée. Nancy Warren
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humiliation. In terms of the welfare case against her, she absolutely could not afford to be viewed as Zane Atraeus’s mistress. “One kiss.”
Lifting up on her toes, she braced her palms on the hard muscle of his shoulders. The firm touch of his hands at her waist, drawing her closer, sent a sensual shock through her as she took a shallow breath and touched her mouth to his.
The kiss, as brief as it was, sent sensation shivering through her, unexpectedly powerful and laced with memories that were still sharp-edged and bittersweet.
The humid warmth of a summer’s night, the sibilant wash of waves on the beach, the weight of Gabriel’s body pressing down on hers...
She inhaled and the faintly resinous scent of his cologne shivered through her. If she hadn’t known before that she had made a mistake in kissing Gabriel, she knew it then.
It had taken her years to be able to view what they had shared as a casual encounter that had gotten out of hand, years to get over his easy defection.
The heated tension cut off as another camera flash temporarily blinded her, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps as the reporter made his escape.
The reporter. Her stomach churned at the new publicity, which she hated, even though she knew that in this case kissing Gabriel had been expedient. Doing so negated the earlier, potentially damning photo that had been taken of her hugging Zane.
Gabriel’s head lifted, and in that instant she was aware of the creak of a door opening a few meters down the hall. It was Zane. Thankfully, his back was to her as he stepped out into the corridor, juggling bags and keys.
A split second later, darkness engulfed her as Gabriel pulled her through the opening into the narrow space behind the wall and even more tightly into his arms.
The door, which appeared to be spring-loaded, snicked shut behind her, the fit seamless, closing them into a dim, claustrophobic hallway that smelled of damp and ages-old dust. She had expected the ancient hide to be pitch-black, but surprisingly, the very modern glow of an electric lightbulb glowed at one end, illuminating a stone stairwell.
Heart still pounding with an overload of adrenaline and the curious humming excitement of being close to Gabriel, she released herself from his hold and stepped back in the narrow space. Her bare back brushed against smooth stone, cool enough to make her flinch.
Closeted in the narrow space, with the pressure of his kiss still tingling on her mouth, it felt, crazily enough, as if they were a couple. For a few dizzying seconds Gemma ceased to think about everything that had gone wrong and simply wallowed in the moment.
“This way.” Gabriel indicated the set of stone steps ahead. “They go down to the armory and the stables, which have both been converted into garages and a guest suite. Not exactly as romantic as the old days, but a convenient shortcut if you’ve forgotten your car keys.”
She caught the flash of his grin and out of nowhere her stomach turned a somersault.
The small warning jolt that went with that reaction was swamped by a surge of pure happiness as she found herself smiling back. She had just done a completely stupid thing: she had embarrassed and humiliated herself with the bungled seduction attempt and a reporter was brewing another scandal. But as she stood, crowded close to Gabriel in the secret hideaway, a dangerous thrill shot down her spine.
Lips still damp and tingling, on edge and acutely aware of the intimacy of being alone with the one man she thought she would never be alone with again, Gemma followed Gabriel.
Her stomach churned at how close she had come to disaster. She knew why she had kissed Gabriel. It had been the rescue she had needed, but she had no idea why he had kissed her.
With every second that passed the gratitude that had flooded her when he had stepped in to help dissipated, and Gabriel’s presence in the exact moment when she had needed help became stranger and more confusing. Kindness? Definitely. Desire?
She drew a sharp breath at the question that had been hovering at the back of her mind. Not seriously.
As he paused at the top of the stairwell, the light from the bare bulb gleamed over taut cheekbones, a blade-straight nose and the lash of an old scar over one temple. As his gaze locked with hers, she remembered with a small jolt that he had gotten the scar during a knife attack on Medinos when he was a teenager.
Trained in self-defence, as were all the members of his family, he had taken the knife and ended the attempted mugging, but the scar invested Gabriel with a barbaric quality. New Zealand born he may be, but she couldn’t let herself forget that he was the head of an ancient and wealthy family that could trace its lineage back centuries.
“Don’t worry about the reporter, he can’t follow unless he knows where the mechanism that opens the door is, which reminds me...”
He paused at the head of the steps, his expression shifting instantly back to neutral as he slid his cell out of his trouser pocket.
His conversation with the Castello’s security—who should have checked the man’s press credentials—was brief and to the point. His gaze touched on hers again as he hung up. “I didn’t see a press card on his lapel. If he doesn’t have an invitation, with any luck, they’ll stop him before he gets out of the Castello and erase the pictures.”
Her face burning uncomfortably hot again, Gemma glanced down at the incriminating gleam of black lace in the carry bag, the handle of which was still looped over one arm. Surreptitiously, she tucked the negligee lower. “Thank you.”
Although she didn’t hold out much hope that erasing the photos from the reporter’s camera would be the end of the matter. Knowing her luck, the photos had already been emailed to the editor of some tabloid scandal sheet.
“When we reach ground level, we’ll be close to where my car is parked. If you want I can give you a ride back to your hotel.”
Gemma sent him another strained smile. “You don’t have to do that.” She already felt stressed and indebted to Gabriel. Now that she was finally back to thinking logically, rather than simply panicking and reacting, the last thing she wanted was to impose on him any further. “I’ve got my cell with me. I can call a taxi.”
Pausing beneath the glare of the single bulb, he glanced at his wristwatch. “If you haven’t prebooked a taxi, you’ll probably have to wait. Medinos doesn’t have that many, and when Constantine throws a party, they’re mostly booked in advance by the guests.” His gaze touched on hers. “You could always wait out front. Chances are you could find someone who will be willing to share one with you.”
A shudder of pure horror went through Gemma. In that moment, she was also certain that Gabriel knew that standing on the front steps of the Castello, where journalists could easily find her, was the absolute last thing she wanted.
That meant he had probably read the press stories about her, which made sense of his timely appearance almost directly across from Zane’s suite. She was grateful he had decided to intervene, although wary of his motives. Given that he had suggested the kiss, she would be naive to discount the fact that as crazy as it seemed, Gabriel still felt something for her. As seductive as that fact was, she was also overwhelmingly aware of the danger. Gabriel had the power to make things better, but if he ever discovered that he was the father of her child, he could also cause further complications.
Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. “I think you know that exposing myself to any further media attention is not exactly at the top of my ‘to do’ list.”
“I know there’s a child. I also know there’s a problem with custody, in which case pressuring Zane was the last thing you should have tried.”
* * *
Gabriel watched the warm color drain from Gemma’s face, leaving her looking pale and a little shocked. He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but neither did he have much patience with subtler approaches.
He vowed to have a word with Zane before he left Medinos. He didn’t care how irresistible