Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée?

As if he sensed her hesitation, he said, ‘Come on Gabby. It might even be fun.’

Fun. Still under the spell of that smile, her brain was exhibiting interest in the whole ridiculous idea. Perhaps it was a bit like the urge to poke an aching tooth or prod a bruise. Plus he’d said he would pay her—so in truth this would be a job, a business transaction, a chance to put away a little extra money for her grandmother.

‘What sort of events?’

‘My sister is getting married in a couple of months in Bath—at the actual Roman Baths. And I’m hosting a charity gala next week in London. We’ll need to have a few meals out, or other date-like activities in between. Smile for a few photos. There may be an interview or a few questions from reporters.’

The last words were said in such a casual tone that at first she didn’t comprehend their meaning. And then suddenly a whole lot of dots were joined up. ‘Exactly who is your sister marrying?’

‘Alessio Bravanti.’

‘The racing driver?’ Just to be absolutely sure.

‘That’s the one.’

‘And this charity gala—you don’t mean a knees-up in the village hall? You’re talking a full-on function? The type covered in celeb magazines?’

‘Yes.’ He eyed her, no doubt noting the horror that etched her features. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl—the wrong candidate for the role.’ Pushing her plate away, she shook her head, aware of a pulse of frustration-tinged regret. ‘I wish I was the sort of woman who would jump at this, but I’m not. The whole thought of being watched and judged makes me come up in hives.’

‘No one will judge you.’

‘That’s not true and you know it. Your family will definitely judge me, and I won’t blame them for that. They care about you. But it won’t only be them. What about all the guests at the wedding and the charity function? The reporters...the public...?’

‘Why does it matter what they think?’

‘Because words can hurt just as much as sticks and stones, and the wounds can take longer to heal.’

Gabby could still feel the pain she’d felt when her mother had been discussing her with her boyfriend du jour.

Yes, the kid’s a pain...a drag. I know. I’ll see if I can dump her with my parents again.

That sting would always be with her—the knowledge that she was nothing more than an encumbrance.

‘And people’s opinions do matter.’

Sometimes they could even be life-changing. Social workers had watched her throughout her childhood, assessed her, assessed her grandparents, formed opinions, and Gabby had made damn sure she’d conformed to whatever they wanted.

She had been the child they’d needed her to be: quiet, invisible, polite, grateful... Whatever it took to jump the regulation hurdles and stay with her grandparents after her mother’s death from an overdose. And she was still that person—the kind who shunned the limelight, the one who had never wanted to be anything like the ‘party girl’ her mother had been, the one who just wanted an ordinary life.

>

‘So I’m sorry, Zander, but I can’t do this. It wouldn’t work.’

Perhaps she was mad, given that he would pay her and she would love the chance to add to her savings. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them when she knew she couldn’t pull it off.

‘I’m not the type of person who could act as your girlfriend—someone who goes to glittering events on the arm of a multimillionaire. You’ll have to find someone else.’ He opened his mouth and quickly she stood up. ‘Bathroom break,’ she said.

And on the way to the bathroom she’d pay the bill, say goodbye and leave. Because for some daft reason she felt bad—bad that she was refusing the job and bad that she was too chicken to take on a role that most people would kill for. But she knew it was the right decision. Gabby knew her limitations and this was definitely one of them. This role was beyond her abilities.

* * *

Five minutes later Zander watched as Gabby headed back to the table, her stride purposeful, the doubts he’d sensed earlier clearly dispelled. This was a woman on a mission to say farewell and leave as soon as possible. Well, tough.

She halted, looked down and frowned.

‘I ordered dessert,’ he explained. ‘It’s the house special, and according to the staff it’s what you always have.’