Page 20 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

She pressed her teeth into her lower lip, feeling chastened and inexperienced and gauche all at once.

“Well, it was a mistake,” she said, wrapping her arms around her body. “It got way out of hand. We can’t…that shouldn’t happen again.”

“No,” he agreed, after a pause. “It shouldn’t.”

Which was not, she realized later, as she lay in her enormous bed, all on her own, quite the same thing as saying it wouldn’t happen again…

Six

ON THE FLIGHT BACK TO Italy, Andie was lost in thought. The visit to Carlisle had gone well enough. Only, he’d been quiet, and in Andie’s opinion, moody, which made her worry that the treatment wasn’t working.

She’d been so focused on her brother, she’d barely had time to think and worry about Max and what had happened between them the night before. And fortunately for Andie, Max had returned to acting like his normal self. Ignoring her, basically, giving his attention to the business and nothing else. Andie was grateful he hadn’t brought up Carlisle, or the visit, or how slim and undernourished Carlisle looked. Maybe this was normal for a recovering junkie.

Stress had Andie pulling at her necklace, from side to side, as she stared out of the window.

The plane touched down and the first thing Andie felt when the doors opened was the temperature differential between New York and Rome. That much further south, even in the middle of winter, the weather here was appreciably warmer.

As she made her way down the steps of Max’s private jet, towards another black, darkly tinted SUV, he spoke. “We’ll have dinner with my family tonight,bella.”

It was the last thing she felt like.

On top of a sleepless night spent replaying over and over every minute of the car trip from the restaurant to her home, Andie had found the visit with Carlisle to be completely draining.

She stopped walking, turned to face Max. “Any chance it can be another day?”

His eyes scanned her face. “You’re not well?”

She lifted fingertips to her temples, pressing them there. “I’m fine.” Then, because the truth was called for, she shook her head a little. “Seeing my brother like that, it’s hard.”

Max’s gaze lingered on her features a moment longer. “Lunch tomorrow better?”

She was surprised by his quick acquiescence, and how reasonable he was being. “Much. Thank you.”

Back in Max’s villa,she was further surprised by how completely he kept to his promise. Here on the outskirts of Rome, in his picturesque estate, Andie had been given a suite of rooms far from those he occupied. He’d promised an apartment of her own, and he’d been true to his word. Here, she had her own bedroom, lounge area, balcony overlooking a citrus grove, generously proportioned bathroom and wardrobe and even a basic kitchen—enough to make tea, coffee, toast, cereal.

Relieved that she could be here without needing to interact with the man who was suddenly taking up way too much of her mental space, she pulled out her laptop, loaded up some files and began to work. In work, she’d always found relief and reprieve. In work, she found an escape.

But the next morning, she could avoid it no longer. They were having lunch with his family, and after that, all the people who mattered most to them would know about their engagement. The die would be cast and there’d be nothing for it but for Andie to break the news to the Santoros and announce the new ownership structure to her managers.

“At least that means going back to New York,” she murmured to herself as she dressed for lunch, choosing a pair of black skinny jeans and a cowl neck sweater she’d had for a long time but that she adored for how it sat on her figure, showing just a hint of cleavage and skimming her slim waist. She added a series of bangles on each wrist, tied her hair into a ponytail and donned another pair of ankle boots. Ready and armed for this, she ventured out of her suite for the first time since arriving the afternoon before, to find Max in the kitchen, reading a newspaper and drinking strong, black coffee.

He wore jeans too, navy for him, and a collared shirt, and he was so ridiculously handsome without really going to any effort that she couldn’t help but stare for a few beats before galvanizing her legs to move.

“I’ve been going over some reports you’ll probably find interesting,” she said, glad to have work to focus on. “I don’t have your email address, otherwise I’d send them to you.”

He pulled something from a desk drawer—his wallet, slimline and leather—and removed a business card. “My details are here.”

She took it, reading it line by line.

Massimo Valentino

CEO – Valentino Investments

It then listed an office address—in central Rome—a private phone number and an email address.

“Thanks.”

She took a photo with her phone, then slipped it into her back pocket.

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