Claiming My Bride of Convenience

A hesitation, and then he admitted with reluctance, ‘I have one half-brother. Andreas.’

‘Are you close?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

I frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

Another hesitation, and I waited, holding my breath, longing to know more. ‘He suffered a TBI—a traumatic brain injury—when he was young. He’s never been the same since.’

‘Oh, Matteo, that’s terrible.’

‘For him more than me. Some might say—in fact, have said—that it was quite a boon for me.’

‘What do you mean?’

He shook his head. ‘Enough of that. It’s an old and boring story.’

Now there could be no disguising the hard finality of his tone. He must have heard it himself, because he smiled—a widening of his mouth, a gleaming of his teeth—but it looked like nothing more than a charade, and that unsettled me.

How much of this afternoon had been an act? Why was he so reluctant to part with even minor details about his life?

‘Anyway,’ he resumed, in a case closed sort of voice, ‘we have more important things to discuss.’

‘Such as?’

‘Our marriage.’

His smile sharpened to a point, his eyes glinting like metal. My stomach tightened with both anticipation and nerves. Was I ready to talk about this? After my scornful and complete refusal of his proposition a week ago, could I really be considering it now, even in the smallest degree?

I was. Heaven help me, I was. And I feared there was nothing small about it.

‘All right,’ I said, lifting my chin as I met his glinting gaze with what I hoped was a steady one of my own. ‘Let’s talk.’

* * *

Triumph surged through me as I held Daisy’s gaze. I had her. We hadn’t even talked about the details yet, but I knew I had her. It was just a matter of time.

‘So, you told me I didn’t know what a real marriage with you would look like,’ she said, her voice firm, her gaze holding mine without a flicker.

She was, I suspected, a little tipsy, and it had given her a certain Dutch courage which I didn’t mind.

‘So tell me. What would it look like?’

‘What would you want it to look like?’

‘You’re prevaricating.’

I was, but I wasn’t about to admit it. ‘Not at all. I’m interested in your thoughts.’

‘Since when?’

Now her confidence was turning aggressive. I didn’t think I liked that as much.

‘Since I decided I wanted to make our marriage real.’

‘Which was when?’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Because the thing is, Matteo, I’m not sure I believe that you actually do.’

‘You don’t believe me?’ I stared at her incredulously. ‘Why on earth would I come all this way, go to all this effort, if I wasn’t serious?’