Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée?

Gabby glanced at Zander but he laughed and shook his head. ‘No use appealing to me—I’ve never been able to get Gem to give up on an idea.’

Succumbing to the inevitable, Gabby followed Gemma up the stairs to a large and messy spare bedroom.

‘This is the wedding room—or wedding dumping ground might be a better description.’ Gemma headed to a large wardrobe, tugged the doors open, reached inside and pulled out a transparent zippered dress bag, through which Gabby could see the sparkle of shimmering material.

Qualms began to surface. Instinct informed her that the dress was most definitely not suitable—not her type, not her style. Not her. Too visible.

Oblivious to her dilemma, Gemma pulled the dress out and Gabby held back a small gasp. Hundreds of adjectives flooded her brain. Magical, shimmery, delicate, gorgeous.

‘Right. Let’s try it on,’ Gemma stated.

And somehow, ten minutes later, Gabby was wearing it, staring at her reflection with shell-shocked eyes. Sleek and sleeveless, the dress left her shoulders and neckline bare, emphasising the slenderness of her waist before falling in a silvery, sparkling, sculpted waterfall to the floor.

‘I...’

‘You look like a fairy-tale princess. Decision made. It’s yours.’

But this wasn’t who she was—clad in designer gear, glittering for every eye to see. And yet... The wedding would mark the end of her time with Zander and, damn it—how did she want him to remember her? Like this or muted and neutral? The answer was absolute. Let his final memory of her be a dazzling one. Just once let her risk coming out of her shell for the occasion. Because after the wedding she would return to life as normal. It would be her final show and she’d make it a good one.

‘If you’re sure, then thank you.’

‘I’m sure.’ Gemma packed the dress back into its bag and handed it to her. ‘Here you go. You may as well take it now.’

With that they returned downstairs, and soon after that the party dispersed.

‘Your family are wonderful,’ Gabby said as Zander started the car. ‘I can see why you want to make them happy.’

By faking a

relationship. With each moment it seemed increasingly important to remind herself of that. Fact and fiction were beginning to blur and she had to ensure she could see the defining line.

‘So,’ she said. ‘What now? If you drop me at a Tube station, I can head back home. It’s not that late.’

There was a pause as Zander drummed the steering wheel with his fingers—it was a trait she now recognised as his thinking trait.

‘Actually...why not make a weekend of it?’ he suggested slowly.

Gabby hesitated as instincts warred within her. Then, ‘That sounds great. If we stop at a supermarket on the way back, I’ll even cook dinner, if you want. I do a great fish pie and salad.’

She closed her eyes in silent despair. Fish pie and salad? This was a man who could afford to dine out on caviar every night of the week.

But Zander smiled. ‘Fish pie and salad sounds perfect.’

* * *

Zander pushed the trolley around the supermarket as Gabby chose items, enjoying the intent expression on her face, her ability to imbue such an everyday chore with interest.

‘Do you have any dill?’ she asked.

‘I think you should work on the assumption that my cupboards are bare.’

Gabby looked up from the potatoes she was assessing. ‘So how does that work? Presumably you need to eat. You don’t have some sort of superpower that enables you to subsist on air?’

‘Unfortunately not. I mostly eat out or get food delivered to the office. Also, every so often Mum descends and fills my freezer with homemade meals I can just heat up. I go to the local shop as and when I need staple items.’

Gabby grinned suddenly. ‘Well, it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm.’

The smile lit her face and tugged at his gut, causing an urge to pull her into his arms in the middle of aisle three and kiss her. Not a good idea. It was worrying enough that he’d suggested extending the weekend, decided to abandon the office in favour of her company.