Page 30 of Fast-Track Fiancé

‘I made my mother a promise that I would settle down this year, mostly just to stop her worrying about me.’ He shrugged. ‘But the more I think of it, the more I realise my playboy days had become less and less fun even before the drama with my cousin. Maybe...the reason why I’ve not fought back on this is because, deep down, I think I want it too.’

His own words hit him with the weight of truth he couldn’t bear to look at too closely, not when he had just come down from the adrenaline of the past hour of anxiety and connection and openness. It was all suddenly too much and yet not nearly enough as he gathered Nina closer into his embrace and urged her to sleep. His exhausted mind drifted off quickly, where he was joined in his dreams by a bride that bore a striking resemblance to a certain raven-haired racing driver.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AS A TOWN car drove them through the heart of Buenos Aires, Nina fought off the waves of anxiety that made her chest feel tight and her skin prickle. Preparing to attend Dulce Falco’s wedding and be introduced to Tristan’s entire extended family as his fiancée was quite a jolt back to the reality of their ruse after the past two weeks spent in a bubble of their sensual explorations. Tristan had reassured her more than once that his family would be too thrilled to meet her to suspect the truth, but she was less certain.

On the yacht, it had been only them and the insatiable attraction between them. But from the moment they landed and the Falco family’s small army of assistants appeared with a change of formal clothing for them both, she was reminded that she was very much expected to play a role here in front of people who knew Tristan the best—and she was no actress.

He’d told her they had the wedding’s formal rehearsal dinner to attend the moment they landed, but still she hadn’t been quite prepared for the level of pomp and circumstance surrounding his arrival back into the city. It had been a number of years since he’d visited Argentina, he’d explained quietly as they’d landed, and she’d looked out of the jet window to spy a small crowd of people had lined up around the fence of the runway of the private airfield. If she’d thought Tristan Falco was famous in Europe, it appeared he had an even more godlike status in his home country.

She’d taken her time donning the stretch satin golden sheath gown she’d been given along with matching gold diamond earrings and necklace. The material was a perfect fit, soft and seamless, and she’d smiled, knowing Tristan must have passed along her specifications. When she’d emerged back out onto the main area of the jet, Tristan had been fully dressed in a sleek black tuxedo and talking through their event schedule with his family’s event co-ordinator. He’d seemed distracted as they’d been brought out to the limousine, even as he’d taken a moment to compliment her ensemble before being interrupted once again with some details about the wedding ceremony they would attend the following afternoon.

They hadn’t actually discussed the parameters of their deal, now that they’d ventured into spending each night in one another’s arms. Once the season ended and their three months were up, would she leave the team and become a stranger to him once more? The realisation that he still intended to fulfil his mother’s wish of finding a bride and having a grand wedding had been a stark one on their flight over and she’d spent hours trying not to think of it after Tristan had fallen asleep.

He would find someone easily once she was gone, that much was for certain. But as for her...she couldn’t quite imagine herself ever falling into another man’s arms without comparing them to him. To her first lover. Over the past two weeks, something within her had begun to change and unravel. She’d begun skipping workouts and training exercises in favour of spending as much time as she could in Tristan’s arms. Instead of mulling over circuit layouts and strategies when her mind was idle, she thought about midnight-blue eyes and how his smile lines transformed his entire face when he laughed.

Armed with a wardrobe of gowns for the handful of events over the coming days, Nina reminded herself to be on her guard. The Falco family were the highest of Buenos Aires society, and not only were they old money but they were also fiercely traditional people, which she found out quickly upon being introduced to his grandmother, Valentina, his mother, Dulce, and his soon-to-be stepfather, Agustin, at the extravagant rehearsal dinner being held at an opulent hotel in the heart of the city.

‘You are a racing driver?’ Valentina asked her shrewdly, holding her hand and looking at her face as though trying to peer into her very soul. ‘That little hobby will have to stop after the wedding.’

Nina stiffened, looking up at Tristan beside her as he coughed and immediately intervened.

‘Abuela, Nina is very prominent in the motorsport world. It’s not a hobby. It’s her career,’ he explained gently.

The older woman tutted. ‘That’s too dangerous a career for the mother of your children, my love.’ And with that, the elderly woman walked away.

Tristan looked down at her with a wince. ‘I love my family, but you see now why I don’t come home very often?’ He laughed.

She attempted a laugh of her own, but the interaction shook her. And she felt even more on guard as she was introduced to the rest of the family one by one. His mother was a face she had seen countless times while growing up; Dulce Falco was a worldwide fashion icon. But here in her home city, surrounded by her loved ones, she wore very little make-up and a simple flowing gown of white linen embroidered with traditional Argentinian artwork. She looked rested and peaceful, the antithesis of the sleek, professional fashion mogul that had dominated fashion magazines and social pages for the previous four decades.

‘So, this is the woman who has finally stolen my son’s heart,’ Dulce pronounced as she pulled Nina into a full hug. ‘You are just as beautiful in person as you look whizzing around that racetrack. I’ve watched your last couple of races out of interest, and I’ve got to say—you are ferocious.’

Nina blushed. ‘Coming from you, that’s a huge compliment.’

Dulce waved a hand at the flattery, raising a brow in her son’s direction. ‘So ferocious, in fact, that I wonder why a certain team owner hasn’t ensured that you are the one to lead Falco Roux to victory in this Argentinian Premio race.’

‘Mama, we just landed. At least let a man eat before you begin taking him apart piece by piece.’ Tristan sighed dramatically, then smirked and grabbed his mother in a deep hug.

Nina watched the open affection between mother and son and felt a twinge of jealousy. Any hugs or praise she’d ever received as a child had been veiled in expectation or judgment or had been a simple show for the press. Her parents had been selfish people, driven by their own individual agendas, and watching Tristan interacting with his own family now she could see the difference in how she had been treated. She had always just assumed that every family had their issues, but perhaps her own had been a little more problematic than she’d realised. Perhaps she was a little more affected than she’d realised too.

Much to Tristan’s grandmother’s horror, his mother insisted that Nina and Tristan sleep together in his childhood room once they all returned to the Falco family’s grand town house after the evening of spectacular food and schmoozing was done.

Well, they described it as a room but, in fact, it was more of a penthouse apartment with a master bedroom and a study and a living room that overlooked the entire city of Buenos Aires. With jet lag weighing heavy upon her, she welcomed Tristan’s suggestion that they go straight to bed. But as she followed him slowly into the master bedroom, she found herself pausing in the doorway.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, frowning in the middle of removing his bow tie.

There was nothing wrong, of course. This entire day, the entire past two weeks, had been perfect, but with every moment she spent in his life and in his bed as his fake fiancée the lines of protection she’d drawn around her own heart grew thinner and thinner.

‘I just wonder...if perhaps we should sleep separately.’

‘And why would we do that?’ He took a step towards her, his handsome features tightening with concern. ‘Do you want to sleep separately?’

‘No, of course not.’ She shook her head.

He reached her side in a few easy strides, his hands sliding up her bare arms and coming to rest upon her cheeks. ‘Then let’s not,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘I feel like I’ve barely touched you since we landed, and we’ve barely had a moment alone. I’ve been counting down the moments till I had you all to myself again. Sleep here, where you belong. With me.’

She ignored how his words made something deep within her chest sing with joy, telling herself that he simply meant he didn’t wish to sleep alone. Truthfully, neither did she. She’d thought about it over and over and if she had to choose between ending this now for the sake of self-preservation or risking her heart for a few more weeks of pleasure, she’d choose the latter. Even if it hurt, at least she’d know she had him, even just for a little while.

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