Page 8 of Borrowed Bride

“Do you smoke?” I ask as distaste curls in my gut. I didn’t taste ash on him during that unexpected kiss.

“No,” Marco replies shortly. “My father does.”

His father. Another piece of the puzzle. The more I know about Marco, the more I can play this game to my advantage. I’m already taking the shoes as a win when Marco sits them on the seat between us.

“So, are you going to give me the rundown?” I ask as the car pulls forward. Despite the softness of the seat, I remain stiff and on my guard. “Snatching a random woman from the street kind of screams desperation.”

“So does stealing wallets,” Marco replies. “Making a living off the backs of hard-working people. Howhonorable.”

I narrow my eyes. “And you made all this money by being honorable? Wealth is inherentlydishonorable.”

“I wasn’t talking about me,” Marco replies. “The other wallet you had.”

“Oh.” I shrug. “He was an asshole to the pretzel girl so he deserved it.”

“Moral theft.” Marco watches me intently. “Interesting.”

His gaze suddenly feels heavy and the building warmth inside the limo quickly becomes smothering. I adjust myself against the cushion and press my knees together.

“Is Gianna your real name?” Marco asks suddenly.

I contemplate lying and giving him an alias, but there’s a risk he’ll catch me out, so I stick with it. “Yes.”

“I’ll keep it short. I need a woman on my arm to appease my father. He’s continuously harping on me about providing an heir for the family and I’m tired of it. My focus needs to be elsewhere on business, so that’s where you come in. You will be kind and polite, respectful to everyone you meet. And—” Marco locks eyes with me. “You will keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you. Am I clear?”

I’m a little too stunned to respond, but Marco continues regardless.

“In return, I will keep a roof over your head and I will provide for you so you no longer have to steal American Express Centurion Cards to buytoothpaste.”

My cheeks heat up immediately. “Clearly you’ve never had to worry about where your next meal comes from,” I mutter.

“No.” Marco lifts one dark brow. “And you won’t either. This deal will last so long as you can persuade my father and anyone else that we are married. Your job will be to keep the prying to a minimum, understand?”

This man is so…confusing. He’s clearly a good deal older than me, which doesn’t faze me. I’ve scammed men of all ages, and all it takes is knowing which buttons to press. But there’s something different about Marco that I can’t quite put my finger on. He’s cold, and clearly full of himself, but there are other things that trip me up.

His father demands an heir? A secret business?

He’s clearly not political because thatwarmpersonality isn’t earning any votes. I can’t picture him as royal either, not with his guards threatening to shoot me in the street. So what is he, a cocky asshole with a trust fund?

Or something more criminal?

It has to be. What other option is there for this amount of wealth?

“Am I expected to actually give you an heir?” I joke softly, trying to get a read on Marco. “Because that will cost more than decent toothpaste.”

“We will try,” Marco replies flatly, and it’s impossible to tell if he’s joking back.

My stomach suddenly twists itself into knots and I bite back a groan. I’ve talked my way into several beds over the years. When I was younger, it was the safest way to get a warm bed for the night, but I was always gone by morning.

This is different. Serious. He doesn’tactuallyexpect me to give him a baby, does he?

My mouth turns to cotton, and I slide my fingertips over the twisted silver piping lining the hem of my dress. This may be too much for me.

I can play a lot of acts, but I can’t fake a baby.

Suddenly, there’s a time limit on my escape.

The air thickens in the car as we fall silent, swaying slightly as the car weaves through the streets of New York, carrying me further and further away from my familiar stomping ground.

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