Page 2 of Fiancée for the Cameras

“I don’t understand. What does your business opportunity have to do with our getting married? You know how much I support all your dreams. If you want, I’ll even ask my boss for a loan if you really—”

“No need. You didn’t want to ask before,si? Now I don’t need that big shot Valentini’s help. This whole marriage thing was your idea.”

“What? That’s not true. You proposed to me. You wanted us to get that flat to live together. You made me shell out—”

“Basta!I will return your puny money. I’m not a man who depends on a woman. Especially one so clingy and needy. All the time, you are cooking and doing my laundry and offering your services up. A man can get confused when a woman throws herself at him like that. I only thought you were a good goose after—”

Monica felt like she was getting whiplash, and it wasn’t her dress or the sun beating down on her. Francesco thought she was...clingy and needy. He thought she had thrown herself at him. He thought...

Of course, Francesco didn’t love her. Or at least not more than himself and his business ventures. Not when loving her meant giving up bigger, better opportunities. Not when it was inconvenient. Maybe what he felt for her wasn’t love at all.

“You are a beautiful woman with a sexy body. You always smile and maintain good cheer. I thought hey, she is a hot American woman with good connections in Milan. But it was convenience, Monica. Especially since you don’t even give out sex. If you still want to celebrate our wedding night without—”

Hands shaking, Monica hung up and fought the maddening urge to throw her cell phone across the steps into the cheerful fountain.

No. She couldn’t. It was her work phone and there was no point in taking her misery out on it when she’d have to fish it out of the fountain, then get a replacement, then explain to the IT department how it had fallen into the water in the first place. And God forbid if the phone got clogged up with water and she missed a call from her very demanding, very important, boss.

Especially today of all days, when Mr. Valentini might well announce his engagement to his ex, Mrs. Chiara Rossi. She’d been expecting it for more than six weeks now, given the impending merger between Valentini Luxury Goods and Chiara’s father’s company, Brunetti Leathers. Especially eversince she’d run into Mrs. Rossi at a dinner party and had been warned off setting her sights on her boss.

Hurriedly, she made sure the ringer was turned up all the way.

This was her, she thought, tears falling down her cheeks, with an edge of hysteric laughter setting into the sound. This woman, who minutes after being dumped at the altar—though technically it was city hall—balked at the idea of even throwing her phone because it might give rise to unnecessary questions and inconvenience for someone else. Especially the man to whom she owed so much.

But even the usual nerve-racking urgency she felt around Mr. Valentini wasn’t enough to cut through the weight of her misery, which sank through her belly as if she’d swallowed one of Francesco’s enormous dumbbells.

This was her—Monica D’Souza—once again alone in the world, with no place to go, once again abandoned and unwanted.

Andrea Valentini, CEO of Valentini Luxury Goods, did not usually involve himself in the personal lives of his employees. He could barely remember their full names and personal situations. All he did remember was their abilities and efficiencies and how loyal they were to his company. He didn’t need to know more than that. And he didn’t have the bandwidth to know more than that. Which was why he, nearly two years ago, when another assistant had quit on him, had jumped on the opportunity to promote his mother’s rescuer, the walking, talking human resource machine that was Monica D’Souza.

He prided himself on seeing people for who they were and once again, he’d been right. During her convalescence at thehospital after she’d saved his mother from a dangerous mugger, Andrea had seen the magic Ms. D’Souza could weave with numbers and interpersonal affairs.

Offering her a job as one of his junior assistants in exchange for saving his mother’s life had been a small price to pay. As he’d expected, her sharp mind and her extraordinary talent in dealing with people who always needed something from him, which meant he could actually focus on the business, had had her climbing the corporate ladder super-fast. Until he’d had no choice but to steal her for himself exclusively.

Now Ms. D’Souza pretty much ran his professional life, and his personal life, too, though he didn’t really have one. She made him an approachable package for the media, for his shareholders and even for his own family.

He’d never really had any complaints about her, until a few weeks ago when she’d met Francesco Ricci—a charming conman Andrea could scent a kilometer away. How Ms. D’Souza didn’t see his true character was a mystery to him.

While it had irritated the hell out of him to see her throw her breathtaking smiles and her generous compliments at such a rascal, Andrea had set her little flirtation out of his mind. She was not only naive but also young at just twenty-three. She deserved to have fun, even if it was with a rogue who didn’t deserve to kiss her little toe.

Except his mother had called his attention to the fact that Francesco had not only proposed to Ms. D’Souza but he had also talked her into giving up her savings to finance some ridiculous hovel he wanted to rent, a week ago.

On impulse, Andrea had had his chauffeur drive him to that dingy, unsafe neighborhood, only to realize that Francesco had fleeced Ms. D’Souza. If it was just that, Andrea could have called in his connections and had him hauled to prison.

But no, Francesco had found his golden goose in Ms. D’Souza and meant to fleece her for the rest of his life. Especially with her close connection to his own family. That, Andrea could not allow.

So here he was, after having one of his associates pay off the thug to dump Ms. D’Souza. And while it was cruel, Andrea hoped this would cure Ms. D’Souza of her naive faith in every scoundrel she came across. The woman needed a crash course in the reality of people.

But of course, it wasn’t enough that Andrea had taken care of the mess she’d gotten herself into. Mama wanted him to make sure Ms. D’Souza was okay in the aftermath, when the last thing he needed was a distraught woman on his hands.

As if his ex’s machinations to force him into accepting her as his wife as a bonus prize along with the merger with her father’s company wasn’t bad enough.

Once, Andrea would have done anything—haddone anything—to win Chiara’s hand and heart. But she had chosen a different man, a man more suited to give her the lifestyle she was used to and the kind of commitment she’d wanted. Her gamble hadn’t paid off quite the way she’d foreseen, for her husband had failed at a few business ventures before dying in an accident.

And now his mother, and Chiara’s father and Chiara herself apparently expected him to pick up where they had left off ten years ago and enter wedded bliss with her. Or the merger wouldn’t go through, her father had the gall to say, when Andrea hadn’t immediately jumped on the condition.

The very thought made his temper boil over. The fact that Brunetti now tied the fate of this merger—a merger Andrea had sunk everything into—to his marrying Chiara...

As of now, Andrea had no solution to a problem that was suddenly a big headache. He wanted to say no without sayingno, without upsetting the delicate balance that was his business negotiations with Chiara’s father.

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