The Bride Fonseca Needs

Darcy was relishing a rare chance to be alone. She’d had enough of Max’s tense mood infecting her own.

Wily old Montgomery was playing hard to get right to the end. The party was tonight, and Max still wasn’t sure where he stood. To make things even worse, there were several other high-profile financiers invited. Darcy almost felt sorry for Max—but then she thought of the sensual torture he’d put her through the previous night and promptly felt unsorry for him.

She sat down on a piece of soft springy ground and sighed, pushing her hair back off her hot cheeks. Here against this timeless and peaceful backdrop she couldn’t keep running from her own conscience and her heart.

In spite of everything, she’d fallen for Max. Self-disgust that she should fall for someone so ruthless and single-minded took the edge off the awful tendency she felt to cry. And yet her bruised heart still pathetically wanted to believe that the Max she’d seen that weekend in Como was real...

One thing Darcy did know was that Max fooled himself as much as everyone around him. He had feelings, all right, but they were so buried after years of hiding them that it would be like mining for diamonds trying to extract them.

She knew why her instinct had always warned her off deeper commitment if this was the pain it brought.

But she couldn’t continue with the status quo. It was a form of self-destruction that Darcy knew she had to stop now—he’d worn her down and broken her apart like the pro he was, and she couldn’t let it continue.

Max wasn’t going to like it, but he’d get over it. He’d have to, because nothing would compel her to change her mind. Not even his singular seduction.

* * *

That night Darcy felt jittery, and Max said beside her, ‘Stop fidgeting.’

She sent him a dark look. She had her arm tucked into his, for all the world the happy newly married couple.

Mrs Montgomery had come up to Darcy earlier and said confidentially, ‘Why, he’s a new man, my dear. He was always so brooding before.’

Darcy had smiled weakly and looked to see Max throwing his head back and laughing at something his companion said. Her gut had twisted. Was he different? And then she’d clamped down on that very dangerous line of thought.

She was wearing the royal blue satin dress she’d seen in the window of the boutique that day in Milan. When she’d spotted it hanging in her wardrobe in Max’s apartment it had given her a jolt as she’d recalled a much more light-hearted Max.

She hadn’t wanted to wear it, but he’d insisted. And the look in his eyes when she’d put it on had been nearly enough to make her skin sizzle.

He’d growled, ‘If we weren’t already late for dinner I’d lock the door to this room, make you take it off, make love to you and then make you put it on again... But I’d probably only want to take it off again...’

A voice had wheedled in Darcy’s head—What’s one more night...?—and she’d shut it out. She couldn’t afford one more night with Max.

The crowd was making a toast now, to Cecil Montgomery, his smiling wife and their four children and assorted grandchildren. Darcy’s heart constricted. Happiness was there for some people. The very few.

She felt Max tense beside her. Time for the announcement.

Montgomery started by going into a long-winded account of his career, clearly building up to the big moment. Darcy bit her lip and looked at Max, but his face was expressionless.

‘As many of you will know, it’s been my life’s work to cultivate, protect and grow the famous private equity fund of this family that goes back generations. It’s my legacy to my children and grandchildren—not to mention our very important philanthropic work...’

Montgomery cleared his throat and kept going.

‘As we all know in these uncertain times, expert advice is necessary to ensure the growth and protection of anything of importance. And this fund is not just my life’s work, but my ancestors’. It’s been of the utmost importance that I choose someone who has those sensibilities in mind. Who understands the importance of family and legacy...for the benefit of not only my own family but also much larger concerns.’

He paused dramatically and then took a breath.

‘There is only one person I would trust with this great responsibility, and I’m pleased to announce that that man is...Maximiliano Fonseca Roselli.’

Darcy could feel the surge of emotion in Max’s body. He shook with it. She waited for him to turn and acknowledge her, as much for appearances’ sake as anything else, but after a moment he just disengaged her arm from his and strode forward to accept Montgomery’s handshake and congratulations.

Darcy could see people looking at her. It was as brutal a sign of where she really stood in his life as a slap in the face, and she realised then that all along she’d been harbouring some kind of pathetic hope that perhaps she was mistaken and he did feel something for her.

Seeing the crowd lining up to con

gratulate Max, Darcy took advantage of the moment to slip out of the room and walk blindly through the castle, eyes blurred but refusing to let the tears well and fall.

She would not cry over this man. She would not.