The Bride Fonseca Needs

DARCY FOLLOWED MAX into his apartment warily. From what she could see, as he flicked on low lights, it was as sleek and modern as the building that housed it. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered astounding views of Rome glittering at night.

Her feet were sore in the high-heeled shoes, but she would let them bleed before taking them off. She was still recalling her bare feet in the office the previous night—the cocoon of intimacy and where that had led.

‘Drink?’

Darcy looked over to where Max was pulling his tie out of its knot and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. He’d already taken off his jacket and he looked sinfully sexy in the waistcoat of the three-piece suit.

She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want a drink, Max, and I don’t want to talk. I’d like to go to some cor

ner of the earth far away from you.’

He just shrugged, ignoring her pronouncement, and proceeded to pour himself a measure of something. He gestured to a seat. ‘Please—sit down.’

Darcy clutched her bag tighter. ‘I told you...I don’t want to—’

‘Well, tough, because we’re talking.’

Darcy made a rude sound and stalked over to an uncomfortable-looking chair and sat down.

Max started to pace, then stopped and said, ‘Look, I didn’t plan to announce an engagement to you this evening.’

‘I’m not so sure you didn’t, Max. It certainly seemed to trip off your tongue very easily—along with that very inventive plan to treat me to a Devilliers ring. Tell me, are we taking your private jet?’

Max cursed before downing his drink in one and setting the glass down with a clatter.

He glared at her. ‘I didn’t plan it. He just... Dio. You heard him.’

Darcy’s insides tightened as she recalled the sense of protectiveness that had arisen when Montgomery had baldly dissected Max’s life. The truth was that no one goaded Max. He’d remained impervious in the face of much worse provocation. But this had been personal. About his family.

Darcy stood up, feeling vulnerable. ‘I heard him, Max. The man clearly has strong feelings about the importance of family, but do you think he really cares if you’re married or not?’

‘You heard him. He believes my perspective will be skewed unless I have someone to worry about other than myself.’ Max sounded bitter.

‘So you fed me to him?’

He looked at her. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m just a means to an end—so you can get your hands on that fund.’

* * *

Max looked at Darcy. Her hair had begun to get dishevelled, falling down in tendrils around her face and neck. ‘I’m just a means to an end.’ Why did those words strike at him somewhere? Of course she was a means to an end—everything in his life was a means to an end. And that end was in sight.

‘Yes.’

Her jaw tightened and she stepped back. Max did not like the flash of something like panic in his gut.

‘Yes, you are a means to an end—I won’t pretty it up and lie to you. But, Darcy, if you do this you won’t walk away empty-handed. You can name your price.’

She let out a short curt laugh and it made Max wince inwardly. It sounded so unlike her.

‘Believe me, no price could buy me as your wife, Max. I don’t think I even like you all that much.’

Max felt that like a blow to his gut, but he gritted out, ‘I’m not asking you to like me, and I’m not buying a wife, Darcy. I’m asking you to do this as part of your job. Admittedly it’s a little above and beyond the call of duty...but you will be well compensated.’

Darcy tossed her head. ‘Nothing could induce me to do this.’

‘Nothing...?’ Max asked silkily as he moved a little closer, his vision suddenly overwhelmed with the tantalising way Darcy filled out her dress.