A Very Exclusive Engagement

Francesca took relationships seriously. She wasn’t one for flings, despite losing her sense in the elevator, and she certainly didn’t make a habit of sleeping with men when she didn’t see any relationship potential.

She wanted a marriage like her parents had. Victor and Donatella Orr had been married thirty years. When she was growing up, they’d set a good example of what a relationship should be. They argued, but they compromised and never held grudges. They were affectionate and understanding. They allowed each other their space, yet were always certain to spend quality time together as a family and as a couple.

At twenty-seven, Francesca had yet to run across a man she could have that kind of relationship with. Some were too clingy; others were too self-absorbed. Some were quick-tempered or arrogant. Then there were the kind like Liam—work-focused dreamers who looked at marriage as something they’d do later. They indulged in a variety of women, never taking anything but their jobs seriously. They were the kind of men who would wake up at fifty and realize they had missed out on their chance for a family unless they could find a willing younger woman with a fondness for expensive gifts.

Despite being engaged to Liam, he was the last man on Earth she would marry. And that’s why she knew sleeping with him was a mistake. As a passionate woman, she put her heart in everything she did. But she couldn’t put her heart into this. She couldn’t look at her engagement ring and their portrait together and imagine it was anything more than a well-crafted fantasy.

Francesca turned to look at Liam as he grumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his back. The blankets fell across his torso, his hard, muscular chest exposed to the early-morning sunlight. She wanted to run her fingertip along the ridges of his muscles and bury her hands in the patch of dark hair across his chest. She wanted to reach under the covers and wake him up in the most pleasant way possible.

This sure didn’t feel like a business arrangement.

Turning away, she spied her robe hanging on the knob of her closet door. Easing silently out of bed, she snatched the silk wrap off the handle and slid into it. She gave another glance to Liam, still sleeping, and slipped out of the room.

Downstairs, she found she could breathe a little easier. At least until she saw the scraps of her pink underwear on the kitchen floor. She snatched them off the tile and dumped them in the trash, and then went around gathering other bits of their clothing. She tossed the pile onto her sofa and went to the front door to pick up the paper. Laying it onto the kitchen table, she decided to make coffee. The caffeine would help her think so she could sort all this out.

The last few drops were falling into the pot when she heard Liam’s shuffling footsteps across her hardwood floors. A moment later, he appeared in the kitchen wearing nothing but the suit pants she’d just gathered up.

“Morning,” she said, pouring a cup for both of them.

“You snuck out on me,” Liam complained, his voice still a touch low and rough with sleep. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and frowned at her with displeasure.

“I promised you coffee last night,” she explained. “I had to come down here and make it so it was ready when you woke up.” That sounded much better than saying she’d gotten weirded out and had to leave. “How do you take it?”

“One cream, one sugar,” he said, sitting at the small round table in her breakfast nook. He unfolded the paper and started scanning the articles, oblivious to the nerves that had driven her to the kitchen.

Francesca busied herself making their coffee and grabbed a box of pastries from the counter. She set the two mugs and the carton on the table and plucked two napkins from the container in the center of the table. “Breakfast is served.”

“Thank you,” he said, looking up from the paper. “Our party made the society pages in the Sunday edition.” Liam slid the section with their photo across the table to her. “I should clip it out and send it to the Queen Bee.”

“I’m sure she hated missing it. My friends throw parties even she couldn’t find fault with. Oh—” Francesca said, pausing to take a sip of her hot drink. That had reminded her of the important information she hadn’t shared with Liam yet. “I forgot to tell you that Ariella said yes.”

Liam looked up from the paper. “Ariella said yes to what?”

“I got a chance to talk to her at the party about the televised reunion     show. I can’t fathom why, but she’s agreed to do it if the president is willing.”

Liam’s eyes grew wide, and he folded the paper back up as he grinned. “That’s excellent. Wow. How could you forget to tell me something like that? We’ve been together since the party.”