The Bride Fonseca Needs

It was a hot air balloon, on its side, being inflated by a crew.

And it was on her bucket list.

One night, while working late in the office in that first couple of months, Darcy had asked Max idly about what might be on his bucket list—because what could someone who had nearly everything possibly want?

He’d given her a typical non-answer, in true evasive Max style. And then he’d asked her what was on hers. She’d replied, with some measure of embarrassment, that she’d always wanted to take a hot air balloon ride.

And now he was giving it to her.

Emotion tightened her chest.

Max just looked amused. ‘You don’t want to go?’

She glared at him. ‘Of course I want to go.’

Sh

e folded her arms across her chest, hating it that he could make her feel so much, wanting to extract some kind of payment.

‘But I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s on your bucket list. And I want a proper answer this time.’

Max’s expression hardened. ‘I don’t have a bucket list. This is ridiculous, Darcy. We’ll miss the best part of the sunrise if we don’t move now.’

She could see the balloon, lifting into the air behind Max. She tapped her foot. Waiting...

He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair impatiently. ‘Nothing with you comes easy, does it?’

‘No.’ She smiled sweetly, feeling some measure of satisfaction to be annoying him—especially when he’d hauled her out of bed so early.

‘Okay, I’ll tell you—but you’re not to laugh.’

Darcy shook her head and said seriously, ‘I promise I won’t.’

Max looked up, as if committing his soul somewhere—or hers, more likely—and then down again, and said in a rush, ‘I want to own a football club.’

He’d said it like a young boy, blurting something out before he could lose his nerve, and Darcy’s chest squeezed even tighter.

She pushed the emotion down and nodded once. ‘Thank you. Now we can go,’ she said.

Once she felt on a more even keel with Max she was like a child, with the full excitement of what he’d organised for her—whatever his motive—finally hitting her.

They were helped into the basket alongside the pilot, and then suddenly they were lifting off the ground and into the clear dawn-streaked sky. Darcy wrapped her hands tight around the basket’s edge, eyes wide at the way the ground dropped away beneath them.

It was pure terror and exhilaration. Max stood beside her as the pilot edged them higher and higher, but she couldn’t look at him, too afraid of what he might see on her face.

Time and time again her father had promised to do this with her and it had never happened. And now she was here with her husband. Except he wasn’t really her husband.

Emotions twisted like a ball in her gut and she took a deep breath.

Max’s hand covered hers. ‘Okay?’

When she felt more in control she looked at him and smiled. ‘Perfect.’

The balloon made lazy progress over the spectacular countryside, with the pilot pointing out Lake Como and the other lakes. Far in the distance they saw the snowy tips of the Alps. Milan was a dark blur in the distance as they passed over fields and agricultural lands.

Darcy was entranced. When the gas wasn’t firing, to propel the balloon higher, she thought she’d never experienced such peace and solitude.

When she could, she tore her eyes from the view and looked at Max. ‘Is this your first time in a balloon too?’