Фиона Бранд – A Very Fake Fiancée: The Fiancée Charade / My Fake Fiancée / A Very Exclusive Engagement (страница 9)

She could still remember the dull depression when she had realized that the few hours they had spent together hadn’t meant a thing to him, and she’d heard the relief in his voice when she’d said she wasn’t pregnant.

Lilah Cole’s pale, blank expression minutes ago said it all. Gorgeous, hot billionaires did not marry small-town girls with no substance behind them. Slinging the strap of her evening bag over her shoulder, she headed for the door, now desperate to get out of the suite. But as she reached for the handle, Murphy’s law—the one that states that what can go wrong, will go wrong—kicked in. The door popped open and Zane strode in.

An excruciating few moments later, after realizing a stunning truth, that Zane was in love with Lilah, Gemma made a hasty escape.

A giddy sense of relief clutched at her as she practically jogged down the corridor. High heels tapping on flagstones, she almost failed to recognize a reporter she had seen circulating at the party walking straight toward her.

She caught his sly grin as she spun on her heel and started back the way she had come. She had no intention of reentering Zane’s suite. There were a number of other doors, and what looked like an exit onto a terrace ahead. She would find a door, any door that was unlocked, and hide out for a few minutes.

With dismay, she noticed Zane’s door, which she had closed behind her, was now ajar. A flash of movement confirmed that Zane was near the door, zipping a bag closed, on the point of leaving.

Panic clutched at her. When Zane stepped out into the corridor, the reporter would get a picture of the two of them together. Now that there was no possibility of a relationship, that was something she absolutely did not want to happen.

She broke into a jog again, determined to get past Zane’s door before he stepped out. At that moment another door popped open right in front of her. It was one of two concealed doors, which she vaguely remembered reading about when she’d studied up on the Castello, that led to the old armory and the stables. A secret network built into the fortress in case of attack, and as such designed to be unobtrusive.

A dark, masculine head ducked under the low lintel.

Startled, Gemma almost ran full tilt into him. Lean hands closed around her arms, steadying her as she clutched at broad shoulders. Heat and a clean, male scent engulfed her.

Not a member of the staff using the convenient shortcut with fresh linen or a tray, but a bona fide member of the Atraeus family who, in centuries past, would have fitted the mold of fortress protector. Gabriel Messena.

Her heart slammed against her chest at the sheer shock of running into Gabriel. The pressure of his hands on her bare skin sent a raw shiver up her spine. Almost in the same moment she registered the flash of a camera, the shadowy shape of the reporter still lurking at one end of the corridor.

Gabriel’s gaze dropped to the bag she was clutching, the incriminating trail of black lace and the foil top of the champagne bottle. Knowledge flared in his dark gaze.

Hot color washed across her skin, her stomach clenched on an acid burn of shame. She didn’t know how, but Gabriel knew exactly what she had attempted.

Instead of loosening his hold, his fingers tightened, anchoring her in place, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his big body.

His head bent, his breath feathered her cheek, warm and damp. “Zane is about to get engaged.” The sexy low timbre of his voice shivered all the way to her toes, making places inside her that should be frozen and immune instantly melt. “If you don’t want the newspapers to report that you’ve moved from being Zane’s girlfriend to his mistress, you should consider kissing me.”

Five

Another flash from the reporter’s camera lit up the dim corridor, making her stomach hollow out. Although not as much as the knowledge that Gabriel must have read the various tabloid stories and assumed that she was involved in an affair with Zane. “I know Zane wants Lilah. Now.”

Something like relief registered in his gaze. “Good.”

Her jaw tightened against another heated rush of humiliation. In terms of the welfare case against her, she absolutely could not afford to be viewed as Zane Atraeus’s mistress. “One kiss.”

Lifting up on her toes, she braced her palms on the hard muscle of his shoulders. The firm touch of his hands at her waist, drawing her closer, sent a sensual shock through her as she took a shallow breath and touched her mouth to his.

The kiss, as brief as it was, sent sensation shivering through her, unexpectedly powerful and laced with memories that were still sharp-edged and bittersweet.

The humid warmth of a summer’s night, the sibilant wash of waves on the beach, the weight of Gabriel’s body pressing down on hers...

She inhaled and the faintly resinous scent of his cologne shivered through her. If she hadn’t known before that she had made a mistake in kissing Gabriel, she knew it then.

It had taken her years to be able to view what they had shared as a casual encounter that had gotten out of hand, years to get over his easy defection.

The heated tension cut off as another camera flash temporarily blinded her, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps as the reporter made his escape.

The reporter. Her stomach churned at the new publicity, which she hated, even though she knew that in this case kissing Gabriel had been expedient. Doing so negated the earlier, potentially damning photo that had been taken of her hugging Zane.

Gabriel’s head lifted, and in that instant she was aware of the creak of a door opening a few meters down the hall. It was Zane. Thankfully, his back was to her as he stepped out into the corridor, juggling bags and keys.

A split second later, darkness engulfed her as Gabriel pulled her through the opening into the narrow space behind the wall and even more tightly into his arms.

The door, which appeared to be spring-loaded, snicked shut behind her, the fit seamless, closing them into a dim, claustrophobic hallway that smelled of damp and ages-old dust. She had expected the ancient hide to be pitch-black, but surprisingly, the very modern glow of an electric lightbulb glowed at one end, illuminating a stone stairwell.

Heart still pounding with an overload of adrenaline and the curious humming excitement of being close to Gabriel, she released herself from his hold and stepped back in the narrow space. Her bare back brushed against smooth stone, cool enough to make her flinch.

Closeted in the narrow space, with the pressure of his kiss still tingling on her mouth, it felt, crazily enough, as if they were a couple. For a few dizzying seconds Gemma ceased to think about everything that had gone wrong and simply wallowed in the moment.

“This way.” Gabriel indicated the set of stone steps ahead. “They go down to the armory and the stables, which have both been converted into garages and a guest suite. Not exactly as romantic as the old days, but a convenient shortcut if you’ve forgotten your car keys.”

She caught the flash of his grin and out of nowhere her stomach turned a somersault.

The small warning jolt that went with that reaction was swamped by a surge of pure happiness as she found herself smiling back. She had just done a completely stupid thing: she had embarrassed and humiliated herself with the bungled seduction attempt and a reporter was brewing another scandal. But as she stood, crowded close to Gabriel in the secret hideaway, a dangerous thrill shot down her spine.

Lips still damp and tingling, on edge and acutely aware of the intimacy of being alone with the one man she thought she would never be alone with again, Gemma followed Gabriel.

Her stomach churned at how close she had come to disaster. She knew why she had kissed Gabriel. It had been the rescue she had needed, but she had no idea why he had kissed her.

With every second that passed the gratitude that had flooded her when he had stepped in to help dissipated, and Gabriel’s presence in the exact moment when she had needed help became stranger and more confusing. Kindness? Definitely. Desire?

She drew a sharp breath at the question that had been hovering at the back of her mind. Not seriously.

As he paused at the top of the stairwell, the light from the bare bulb gleamed over taut cheekbones, a blade-straight nose and the lash of an old scar over one temple. As his gaze locked with hers, she remembered with a small jolt that he had gotten the scar during a knife attack on Medinos when he was a teenager.

Trained in self-defence, as were all the members of his family, he had taken the knife and ended the attempted mugging, but the scar invested Gabriel with a barbaric quality. New Zealand born he may be, but she couldn’t let herself forget that he was the head of an ancient and wealthy family that could trace its lineage back centuries.

“Don’t worry about the reporter, he can’t follow unless he knows where the mechanism that opens the door is, which reminds me...”

He paused at the head of the steps, his expression shifting instantly back to neutral as he slid his cell out of his trouser pocket.