Page 38 of Fiancée for the Cameras

Andrea had spent the anniversary of his father’s death mulling over the questions she had posed for him and chastising himself for being hard on the one person who had dared only to think of him. He still didn’t know what to think or how to process the fact that he had forgotten that date this year.

For years, it had stood out like a black mark against his very soul on the calendar, reacquainting him with guilt and grief and raw pain that he took on as punishment. He spent it drinking, replaying the argument with Papa, regrets piling up until he couldn’t breathe. For days, he would be unable to face Mama or Romeo for fear of seeing their hatred or resentment or even grief. He had never allowed himself the luxury of grieving with them, of reflecting on what they’d all lost that day. He’d forced himself to be alone, both as punishment and repentance.

And yet this year, all that had changed.

Shehad changed it, even as he had taunted her that their relationship didn’t matter in the scheme of things. Not a minute after she’d left, he’d regretted his callous words. Still, he was cowardly enough not to want to face her even though her hurt weighed on him like another shroud. He didn’t have an answer for her question and was ruthless enough to know that he wouldn’t give it to her even if he had it.

Instead, he had turned up at his family home two mornings later, so that it wouldn’t look like he was seeking her out.Neither did he miss it that she had drawn him here on that day when he’d stayed away for so long. Only she wasn’t there and instead of the heavy silence he’d braced himself for, he’d heard laughter, the kind that surged up from one’s belly, like a cleansing fire.

He had shocked Mama and Romeo in the middle of watching those home videos Papa had made out of every tiny occasion, their laughter ringing around Romeo’s high-tech studio lounge.

Transfixed by the sight of the laughing man in the grainy video on the screen, Andrea had folded himself down onto the sofa, a little distance away from them. Papa had come alive for those videos, dancing with Mama while he or Romeo held the camera precariously, playing with them, teasing them...

They had watched those videos for hours, laughing and shouting and reminiscing and at the end, Andrea had found his eyes wet and his head achy and his heart somehow lighter and yet heavy, too. Mama had buried her face in his chest and sobbed silently, even as she hurried to reassure him that she loved him with all her heart. That whatever his father had dreamed of for him and Romeo for the future, he had fulfilled it a thousand times over and wouldn’t he forgive himself, too?

And Andrea had realized what a fool he’d been all these years. How unnecessarily he’d suffered through his grief alone. On the heels of the first came another realization. He didn’t want that life anymore, where he punished himself, where he struggled alone, where he hid himself from his family. It was the exact opposite of what Papa had wanted for his firstborn.

Beneath all of it was the gnawing realization that two days had passed since their argument and Monica still hadn’t returned. Only Romeo’s admission that she’d told him she was fine and needed space had stopped him from calling thechief commissarioof the police to look for her.

The third morning, she walked into his home, her pale pink sundress rumpled—had she slept in it?—and an expensive bunch of wild lilies, her favorite flowers, in hand. Her mouth instantly drew down when she spied him prowling the garden around the patio. Her hair in a messy braid, her eyes wearing that haunted look he’d seen once before—the very sight of her made emotions surge through him. Gritting his teeth, he sought control, trying to find some rationality out of the thorny knots.

He had worried over her safety. He had...hated sleeping by himself and had repeatedly reached out an arm, desperate for her warm body across his bed. He had...missed her with a longing he couldn’t kill or define. And with each hour that had passed, he had become more determined to come up with a plan that would both satisfy his needs and prune the buds of things he didn’t want to feel or nurture.

Seeing her, hearing his heart thud in his chest and his body tighten with desire, told him this was the change he sought in his life.

Turning their fake engagement into a real one was a simple and brilliant solution. Monica would have what she’d wanted all her life—family, security and a promise of a long, solid future. If she wished, they could even have children.

He would have her in his bed, and when passion waned as it eventually would, they would have a stable partnership built on loyalty and friendship and mutual care. It wouldn’t be the soulless business merger with Chiara, but neither would it be the great love story his parents had shared that had left his mother shattered. It would be something in between, something that suited him and Monica.

She knew him, maybe better than anyone, and she would understand what a reach this was for him, would know how far he was willing to go for her.Just her.

With each second, the idea held more and more appeal. She would be his. Her loyalty, her generosity, her affection, her passion, her days and nights, all of them would be his. The very thought sent a staccato of urgent need beating through him.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked as she skated a wide arc around him to reach his mother and Romeo, who were breakfasting on the patio.

She kissed Mama’s cheek and then wrapped her arms around Romeo from behind, smiled when he whispered something in her ear and then planted a sound kiss on his scruffy cheek.

Bitter jealousy ran rivulets through Andrea, tying his stomach in tight knots, and he swore to himself that he would have that easy affection from her, too. He’d never been a patient man and now that he knew what he wanted, he wanted it sealed and done now. He wanted her acceptance now. He wanted to tell his mother to plan the wedding so that they could have it as soon as possible. Then he would whisk her away on a short honeymoon—with this merger going through, he could afford at least a weekend. And then he would punish her, in the best way he knew, for this stubborn act. For cutting him off for two whole days, for being unavailable to him when he’d been desperate for her. He would give her so much pleasure that she’d never even think of parting from him again.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned to him, her chin lifting at that stubborn angle that both infuriated him and fascinated him no end. “Good morning to you. too, Andrea. I have been staying with a friend, taking a break as you ordered me to.”

He walked toward the breakfast table, not liking the reminder that she had sought his brother for help, yet again. To avoid him specifically. “You switched off your phone.”

“I wasn’t working and you told me to steer clear of you.” Her eyes held his, and at whatever she saw there, she sighed. “Romeo knew I was fine.”

“What about what you owe me?” he bit out, not hiding his frustration, and her eyes widened. “Was that your little petty punishment because I behaved like an ass? Because it worked.”

Whatever anger and defiance she’d drummed up seemed to drain out of her at his admission. Her hand shook as she lifted the carafe and poured a cup of coffee, added a spoon of cream, stirred it in and handed it to him. Even now, she catered to his wishes and unspoken needs first and damned if he knew how to feel about it.

He was shocked enough to grumpily say, “I don’t need your peace offering.” But the scent of her was already working on him, making his body buzz.

“I know you worry over me, and you think I’m some naive lamb out in the jungle. If I try really hard—” her mouth twitched “—I can even appreciate where your concern stems from. But it’s not necessary.”

“I disagree.”

She thrust the coffee cup into his hand and went back to the table. Loath as he was to have this spat in front of his mother and Romeo, he settled down at the table. They’d been pestering him about their “little fight” for days now and this way, they would understand his intentions and he wouldn’t have to reassure them that he wasn’t hurting their little lamb.

“What’s with the flowers?” he asked after taking a few sips of his coffee. Already, his day felt better, in his control, with her seated across from him and his plan cementing in his mind.

---