Page 192 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘Oh?’

‘By the name of Dominico Estefan. And I got to thinking, isn’t that the same guy who did the dirty on you way back when?’

‘Suzanne, listen—’

‘But that’s not all the article says. There was an update on the story—the weirdest bit is where it says that you’re engaged to be married. To Dominico Estefan of all people. What’s gives, Mari? What the hell is going on?’

Oh, hell, Mari hadn’t counted on the news getting out yet. She’d really hoped it hadn’t got out at all.

‘I know it makes no sense. I’m just doing him a favour. It’s part of that job I told you about.’

‘Getting married is part of the job? What kind of weird job is that? I told you it sounded dodgy.’

Well, yeah, there was that. But a pay packet of ten million dollars made a whole lot more sense of it.

‘It’s a short-term deal, Suze. I’ll be home before you know it.’

‘You’re crazy. I remember what a mess you went through when he left you high and dry before. And then there was the mess you went through with that awful marriage to Simon. I don’t want anything like that to happen to you again.’

Mari swallowed back on a sisterly bubble of affection. Because here was Mari doing this for Suzanne, and yet here was Suzanne looking out for her.

‘I love you,’ she said. ‘You’re the best. But it won’t happen again. This time it’s different. This time he’s paying me a lot of money to pretend to be his wife.’

‘And you trust him? You seriously trust the man after the way he left you before?’

‘I know it makes no sense,’ she said, ‘but right now I don’t have any choice.’

Silence met her words. And then, ‘You’re doing this for me, aren’t you?’

Mari didn’t have to think before responding. ‘I’m doing this for the both of us.’

It was only after she’d ended the call that Mari thought about her words and wondered where they had come from. This deal was all about ensuring security in Suzanne’s ongoing care arrangements. That was why she’d agreed.

Except there was more to it than that. There was another reason Mari was here, doing what she was doing.

Because twenty years ago Mari had been at rock bottom. She’d lost the man she’d thought was the love of her life. She’d lost two tiny babies, and she’d lost herself in the process.

And maybe, just maybe, peeling back the layers of the past might offer a way to find herself again, and to finally lay the ghosts of her past to rest.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MARI HAD NEVERbefore been delivered by limousine direct to a waiting aircraft. Not that it was like any aircraft she’d ever flown on. It was sleek and white with a blue underbelly and tail and at least half the length of an Olympic pool. It was like a smaller version of a passenger jet, just more beautiful.

‘Did you charter this?’ she asked, as the car slowed.

‘No,’ he said, pocketing his phone after a call. ‘It’s mine. Or at least it belongs to the business.’

Right. And given Dom owned the business, that meant it was his. She should have realised he would have his own private jet. Didn’t the man do business all over the world? No wonder he’d made flying first to Las Vegas to get married and then on to his home in San Sebastián sound so straightforward. Mari chewed her lip. Dom’s world was so very different to hers. How had she ever imagined she would fit into his? She’d been so naïve back then. She’d thought love would conquer all.

But maybe they’d been doomed from the very beginning. Maybe it never would have ended well.

She shook her head. It was pointless even thinking about it.

The chauffeur opened her door, a black umbrella held aloft to protect her from a passing shower of rain as he walked her to the foot of the stairs, where a smiling cabin attendant was waiting with another umbrella to welcome her and see her up the steps. So, this was how the other half lived? Impressive.

But not half as impressive as the interior of the cabin where all similarity to an everyday passenger jet ended. There were no rows of seats. Instead, there was a scattering of large armchairs upholstered in white leather with tan headrests and trim either side of the wide aisle, and serviced by glossy parquet timber tables jutting out from the walls. Further back she could see long leather sofas lining the walls of the plane, and all of it set on a latte-coloured carpeted floor.

‘You have a lounge room on board?’ she asked Dom, who’d entered the cabin behind her.

---