Page 20 of Good Girl Gone Bad

She pinched her skin at her throat, desperate to fidget away her worry. “What do you mean, trying? We have a deal. There’s no buying.”

“I know. I didn’t want to break the news to my brother, Nico, who’s my partner in this district revitalization. Not just yet.”

“Why not?” she asked, her heart racing. This didn’t sound good. Sure, he had paid off half of her debts—and the other half he’d pay at the end of the month, as agreed. What if Marco changed his mind? What if his brother convinced him that the fiancée facade wasn’t worth the millions of dollars they’d lose from not having that garage?

“Lily, that’s between me and my brother. You don’t have to worry about it. I gave you my word, and we signed a contract.”

“Yes, but as far as I know, you can hire a lawyer with some top legalese bullshit and screw me in the end.”

“That’s not what I promised.”

“Do you always fulfill your promises, Marco?”

He glanced away for a heartbeat, and when his gaze found hers again, she didn’t miss the speck of bitterness in his dark amber eyes. And maybe…regret? “I’ll fulfill this one,” he said. “As I was saying, it’ll be best to call you a different name.”

“Patricia,” she said. When she was a little girl, she always named her dolls Patricia after a kindergarten friend who had been far better off than her. “Sounds like a name of someone with money. Because that’s what the fancy clothes you bought me are about, right? I’m assuming you won’t tell them I’m a hairdresser, either,” she said, proud of herself for not sounding whiny or defensive.

Her insides knotted. She had a lot of pride in her occupation, and in how much her mother had sacrificed to own her salon. However, in a world of wealth such as Marco’s, she was a menial worker who offered services. She wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or a CEO.

“We can say you work with investments. It’s broad enough.”

“Sounds good.” She forced a smile. “Anything else? Maybe some Ivy League university and a fancy fundraising hobby?”

“You don’t have to sound so offended. I’m being practical. Hiding your real identity will be less of a headache for everyone. Including you.”

She sighed. She guessed she didn’t need his seemingly overbearing brother on her ass. Besides, wasn’t this why she had accepted the contract—to pretend to be his fiancée? Don’t get it twisted. Despite the off-the-charts hot sex also included in their month-long agreement, Marco didn’t need her for anything else. Chances were, if he ever married, he’d go with one of those types, someone more like himself.

Finally, the drive became a lot more interesting. She ignored him completely, fascinated by the life unraveling in front of her. The car wound through busy streets, where people walked their dogs and locals drank at the cafés lining the streets. When the scenery became posher, with a handful of luxury storefronts from designer brands she’d only heard about, the car slowed down.

“Are we close to your place?” she asked, imagining his place would be a lot more sophisticated than a simple walk-up apartment. Most likely he owned a swanky loft or luxurious penthouse.

“We’re going to a jewelry store,” he said.

Oh, yeah. The engagement ring. She assumed he’d borrow one, like those celebrities at high-profile red-carpet events, though a man of his means probably didn’t rent anything. Maybe he’d exchange it afterward.

“Do they open this early?”

“I called the manager and asked them to open for me. I thought it’d be more practical to get it out of the way. Besides, there are no paparazzi this early. I’d hate for the news to reach my grandmother before I tell her myself.”

“Sure.”

The driver stopped in front of the store, and as usual, Marco slid out first and helped her out, stretching his hand for her. She could get used to the touch of his manly, strong, tanned fingers on hers. But she shouldn’t—they’d only be together two more weeks, and then they’d go their separate ways.

He touched the small of her back, guiding her through the jewelry store.

A tall brunette with gorgeous cobalt eyes greeted them. She looked like she could rock a catwalk, making Lily feel ridiculously out of place. “Mr. Giordano, what a pleasure. We’ve put aside some engagement rings for you two to look at,” she said in accented English, then nodded at Lily. “I’m Stefania.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Con piacere. Please, have a seat.”

For the next few minutes, she measured her annular finger, and another terrifyingly good-looking woman who could be on the cover of Shape magazine brought a velvet case. When she opened it, Lily’s jaw dropped.

Several rings greeted her—most of them with huge diamond rocks. One of them seemed to be ruby, and a stone whose name she didn’t even know. Marco murmured a couple of words of encouragement for her to try them on, but she felt a thread of panic float up her throat.

When she’d said yes to this whole farce, she hadn’t envisioned the amount of times she’d be lying—to his family and friends, to salespeople and whoever crossed their path. Would she lie to herself, too? Had she?

She glanced down at the exquisite ring that Marco slid on her finger. It weighed heavy on her, and it meant nothing.

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