The Bride Fonseca Needs

Something occurred to her then—an awful suspicion. ‘Please tell me you didn’t have that planned all along?’

Max’s jaw firmed. He was unapologetic. ‘No, but I saw an opportunity and took it.’

Darcy let out a slightly horrified laugh. ‘An opportunity? That’s what you call fabricating a fake engagement to your PA?’

He turned to face her, stretching an arm across the back of her chair, placing his other hand on the table. Boxing her in.

‘It won’t be a fake engagement, Darcy. We’re going to get married.’

Darcy’s mouth opened but nothing came out. On some level she had known what she was doing, going along with Max’s crazy pronouncement, but she’d also expected that as soon as they were alone again he’d reassure her that of course it wouldn’t happen. It had been just to placate Montgomery and there would be some method of undoing what had been done.

She shook her head, as if that might restore sanity and order. But he was still looking at her.

She found her voice. ‘Maybe it’s the fatigue, Max, or the stress, but I think it’s quite possible that you’ve gone entirely mad. This conversation is over and this relationship is over. Find someone else to be your convenient bride/PA, because I’m not going to be it just because I’m under your nose and you’ve decided that it’s appropriate to kiss me when you feel like it. We both know I’m not your type of woman. No one will ever believe you’ve chosen to marry someone like me—Montgomery patently didn’t believe a word of it—so in the end it’ll achieve nothing.’

Darcy was breathless after the tumult of words and stood up on shaky legs. Before Max could stop her she turned to walk quickly through the restaurant, reality slamming back into her with each step. And humiliation. Max had seen an opportunity, all right—a cheap one, at Darcy’s expense. To think that he would use her like this, just to further his own aims, shouldn’t have come as a shock. But it did.

* * *

Max watched Darcy walk away, rendered uncharacteristically dumb. He could appreciate her very apparent sense of shock because he was still reeling himself, trying to recall what exactly had prompted him to make such an outrageous statement to Montgomery.

And then he remembered. ‘You come from a broken home...estranged from your mother...brother...different perspective...’ He remembered the hot rush of rage when Montgomery had so coolly laid his life bare for inspection. Questioning his motives and ability based upon his experiences.

He’d wanted to do something to take that knowing smirk off Montgomery’s face. And in a moment of mad clarity he’d known what he had to do to push the man off his sanctimonious perch. Fake a marriage. To Darcy.

And she’d gone along with it—even if she had looked as if someone had just punched her in the belly.

Darcy. Max’s usual clear-headed focus came back and he went cold inside at the thought of Darcy leaving. She wasn’t going anywhere—not now. Not when everything was at stake.

* * *

‘Get in the car, Darcy. Please.’

Darcy was valiantly ignoring Max and the open car door nearby. She was about to stretch her arm out to hail a passing taxi when he took her arm in a firm grip and all but manhandled her into the back of the car.

She sputtered, ‘This is kidnap.’

Max was terse. ‘Hardly. Take us to my apartment, please, Enzo.’ And then he hit a button so that a partition went up, enclosing them in silence.

Darcy folded her arms and looked at the man on the other side of the car. In a louche sprawl of big long limbs, he’d never looked more like a rebel.

‘You’ve gone too far this time, Max. I don’t care what you have to do but we’re not getting married—I’ve changed my mind, I’m not waiting until the deal is done. I’m on the first plane out of Rome as soon as you let me go.’

Max gave her a withering look. ‘There’s no need for dramatics. We are just going to talk.’

He leaned back and looked out of the window, clearly done with the conversation for now. Darcy fumed, hating the ever-present hum of awareness in her blood at being in such close proximity to him. He was such an arrogant...bastard. Saying the word, even silently, made her feel marginally better.

Within minutes they were pulling up outside a sleek modern building. Max was out of the car and holding out a hand for Darcy before she could think what to do. Knowing she couldn’t escape now, she scowled and put her hand into his, let him help her out, jerking her hand away as soon as she was on her own two feet.

Max led her into a massive steel-and-chrome foyer, where huge works of modern art were hung on the walls. It was hushed and exclusive, and in spite of herself she found herself wondering what Max’s apartment would be like.

With an acknowledgement to the concierge, Max led Darcy to an open lift and stabbed at the ‘P’ button. Of course, Darcy thought snarkily. Of course he’d be living in the penthouse.

Once in the lift she moved to the far corner. Max leaned back against the wall and looked at her from under hooded lids. ‘No need to look like a startled rabbit, Darcy. I’m not going to eat you.’

‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘Just turn my world upside down.’

CHAPTER FOUR