Page 27 of A Wedding Negotiation with Her Boss

He couldn’t blame her. Her bright plan to disappear back to London without seeing Arturio was now in tatters because Arturio and Isabella were both right here at the table with him. A pleasant surprise for him, a nasty shock for her.

He waved, rose to his feet and then walked to meet her. It was a nice opportunity to lean into her, a gesture of love and affection, he hoped, because they were in full view of Arturio and Isabella. He whispered into her ear, ‘You need to brace yourself.’

‘I didn’t expect Arturio and his wife to be joining us!’

‘Smile and look loving.’ He swung round with her, holding her close, but there was no chance to say anything else. ‘Remember that we’re an item...’

Arturio was already standing. He and Isabella were smiling, and Helen wondered why she suddenly felt a frisson of apprehension trickle through her. The warning ‘brace yourself’ seemed ominous.

Arturio was a short, plump man with thinning grey hair and a face that was weathered from the sun and a life lived outdoors. In contrast, his wife was tall, willowy and, for a woman in her seventies, remarkably youthful-looking and rather beautiful, with striking dark eyes and grey hair pulled back in a bun. It was easy to picture the beautiful young girl from the opposite side of the tracks who’d captured his heart.

She had no idea what to expect and was determined to wriggle out of a lengthy breakfast which would be spent pretending to be someone she wasn’t, in a relationship that was fictional, even if she had been the one to kick-start the fiction.

She went beetroot-red as Gabriel pulled out a chair for her and simultaneously dropped a kiss on the side of her neck, just a brief, passing caress that feathered on her skin. Just what she didn’t need when she had done her utmost to recalibrate their relationship.

Helen hoped for some polite chit-chat and, as soon as she was sitting, said that she couldn’t stay.

‘I’m leaving later today.’ She smiled and eyed Gabriel’s hand on the table before reluctantly linking her fingers through his to maintain their charade. ‘So, a bit of retail therapy is called for.’

Gabriel squeezed her hand.

‘So,’ she continued, ‘just time for a quick cup of coffee and then I’ll be off.’ She looked at Gabriel and kept the smile on her face. ‘As we, er, discussed last night...darling.’

‘We certainly did,’ Gabriel agreed warmly.

‘How are you both? It’s so exciting about this marvellous deal and the fantastic family connection. I know Gabriel will be brilliant when it comes to carrying on the tradition at your lovely vineyards and, of course, expanding and updating a lot of processes, which is what we discussed.’

She was smiling a full-wattage smile, conscious of background noises, the sound of people moving around, eating breakfast, chatting and waiters weaving between tables with trays and pots of coffee. Mostly, though, she was conscious of the Italian couple beaming at the both of them in a way that was vaguely disconcerting.

Her voice petered out but the smile remained in place.

‘So...’ she said vaguely.

‘I don’t suppose Gabriel has had a chance to tell you...’ Arturio’s dark eyes twinkled and his wife leaned forward with a smile.

‘Er...?’

‘Arturio and I have had wonderful thought,’ Isabella said. ‘This deal with our vineyards—this wonderful family connection that is already bringing us so much joy... Over the past few months, we’ve come to see Gabriel as a son as well as a businessman, and to hear that you and Gabriel are going out... We thought it would be lovely if you both came to Italy from here to meet the other members of the family.’

‘Sorry?’ Helen sat forward, detaching from Gabriel’s linked clasp at the same time and shoving her hands on her lap. Her eyes had glazed over.

‘We can tell from what Gabriel has told us before you came that what you have is serious—we know that he isn’t the sort to get involved with someone working for him unless it is, which we appreciate. We understand more than most how sometimes relationships can overtake common sense and, when that happens, it does no good to wage war on it.’

Helen was straining towards the elderly couple. She wasn’t sure which strand of information was most appalling: an invitation to Italy as the couple they weren’t, where they would have to cement their lie yet further; the generosity of Arturio and his wife, who now saw them as part of their own family; or the weight of trust placed in every single word spoken now.

She’d never felt more of a fraud. She’d landed them in this situation. It had never dawned on her that, during the many conversations Gabriel had had with Arturio, he had promoted himself as the sort of guy he knew Arturio would thoroughly approve of. The sort of guy who would never get caught red-handed in a clinch with his secretary just for the fun of it.

She shot them a ghastly smile, stumped for anything to say.

‘I have told Arturio,’ Gabriel murmured from next to her, ‘that you have responsibilities in England which might make it difficult for you to contemplate their kind offer.’

‘Yes...’

‘Family responsibilities, my dear?’ Arturio ordered them all coffee and Helen settled into her chair, deprived of all hope of heading off to town without having to spend time in their company promoting a falsehood she was coming to regret. ‘Gabriel mentioned something of that nature.’

Helen looked sideways at the brooding guy sitting next to her and, in silent response, he reached out to squeeze her hand.

‘My dad,’ she said jerkily, determined at least to be truthful from this point on rather than get mired in yet more falsehoods. Gabriel knew next to nothing about her personal life but, where only a few days ago sharing on this level would have appalled her, it seemed insignificant given the current situation. The rule book had been tossed through the window.

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