Page 5 of Fiancée for the Cameras

He had barely draped the jacket over her shoulders when she swayed, lost consciousness and folded into his arms like a doll.

Andrea picked her up in his arms with as much gentleness as he was capable of, his heart in his throat. Why had he not listened to her immediately? How had he not seen her pain in her eyes?

His chauffeur helped him lay her on the backseat with her head in his lap. Grabbing a bottle of water, Andrea uncapped it and sprayed a few drops onto her burning forehead, even as he barked orders at Pascale to rush them to the company-owned flat close to the financial district.

He held her head in his lap, arranging her long, bare legs to stretch out onto the seat, and softly tapped her cheek. She didn’t respond. His fear grew in his throat, choking him out of air. Ifanything happened to her because of his arrogance...Cristo, he would not forgive himself!

Having drenched a napkin in ice-cold water that was now puddling at his feet, Andrea ran it over her forehead. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open and she made a half-hearted attempt to sit up. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on his shirt, her lithe softness pressed against him.

He helped her recline against his side, making sure not to touch her back, and held a bottle to her lips.

She drank it down eagerly, coughing and sputtering water until he had to drag the bottle away from her mouth. With a soft gasp, she grabbed the bottle from his hands and poured it over her back and front, dumping cold water all over his leather seats.

“Better?” he asked, as he fished his cell phone out of the jacket that was draped over her shoulders.

“Much, thank you,” she said, bare shoulders trembling, whether with the fever he could clearly see in her eyes or with cold, he didn’t know. “If you can have Pascale drop me off at—”

“You’re not going anywhere alone. You need to be looked after.”

“That’s not your decision.” She licked her chapped lips and softened her tone. “Please, Mr. Valentini. I would prefer—”

“What? No moreAndrea?” he said, just as the call he’d made on his phone connected.

He wondered what her answer would have been while he barked orders on the phone.

She would not like his high-handedness come tomorrow. She would actively loathe his thoughtfulness and care and generosity tomorrow. But he didn’t give a fig.

What did concern him was the couple of cell phones he’d seen focused on him and Monica when he’d been busy cutting the damned dress off her and when he’d carried her to his car. Anyother time, he would never have left himself vulnerable to being recorded in a public setting. But the state of her... It was done.

And whatever the consequences, he’d have to deal with them.

Monica had barely discarded his jacket and was holding the bedsheet around her front without it touching the rash when Mr. Valentini returned from his brother Romeo’s bathroom with a tube of aloe vera gel that she had told him where to find. Numerous peeks over her shoulder had been unsuccessful for her to get a good look at her back.

With each passing moment, she was aware of what a nuisance this situation was for a man who abhorred any kind of drama or mess, professional or personal. What a nuisance she herself had become for him today.

The last straw in her miserable day had been to find that he had brought her to the apartment he used in the city.

His younger brother, Romeo, had taken one look at her—holding his brother’s jacket against her near-naked body—and opened his arms wide to her from his wheelchair. Monica had thrown herself into his arms shamelessly, nearly crashing them both to the floor, and sobbed her heart out while he whispered soft endearments into her ear and cursed Francesco to hell and beyond.

The kindness in her friend’s eyes had broken through whatever fake armor she’d put on around his brother, making today’s loss unbearably real.

Now, with Romeo busy with his physiotherapist, Monica wished she hadn’t let go so...completely of her emotions. At least, not where Andrea’s frosty gray eyes watched her and judged her and found her so...pathetic.

That was the word he had used for her. She couldn’t let herself forget it. Not because the ruthless Andrea Valentini had pronounced it so, but because it was what her foolish desperation for love had reduced her to.

Now, looking up at Andrea as he prowled toward the bed, toward her, Monica tried not to be caught up in the indescribable masculine energy of the man. It had been so from the first moment she’d met him four years ago. Even then, it had been her on the hospital bed and him glaring down at her with those inscrutable gray eyes, making her skin prickle with awareness, even amidst the happy haze of painkillers. As if he blamed her for his mother’s mugging incident, rather than thanking her for saving her life.

Nearly three years of close proximity hadn’t dimmed his frightful appeal one bit. Proving her efficiency and efficacy to him and the company hadn’t stopped her insides from tying into knots every time he stepped close. Understanding his work ethic and his care for his employees and his utter intolerance for incompetence and greed hadn’t helped conquer this...ridiculous attack of nerves whenever she was near him.

He’s just a man, she told herself, like she always did. Made of flesh and bones and hand-stitched designer suits.But what a man,the same voice whispered, the bold, brave one she never let out.

With his jacket gone, his cuffs rolled back to reveal hair-roughened corded forearms, the front of his shirt damp and wrinkled thanks to her, he looked less like the suave, sophisticated, steely-eyed businessman and more like...the big, bad boss of a nefarious enterprise. Even his hair, always slickly pushed back, looked as if he’d run his hands through it multiple times, and his mouth had the pinched look that conveyed strain he rarely let rise to the surface.

His meeting with his ex and her father...

Monica’s gaze slipped to his left hand, looking for the ring she’d been expecting for weeks now.

“What are you looking for?” he said, leaning one knee onto the bed while she instantly scuttled back like a frightened cockroach.

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