Fake Fiancé (A Second Chance Office Romance) Read online

  “Mi scusi.” I maneuvered around a group of gentlemen. That’s when I saw her—a vision. Long, honey-blond hair artfully arranged with a few wavy tendrils around the face of an angel. My heart skipped a beat then sped up, thundering in my ears.

  An older couple stood beside her. They paled in comparison, despite their similar build and facial features. Slowing my stride, I caught snippets of their conversation, discovering her name was Francesca. I tore my attention from her for a brief second to scan for a suitor, a husband. There was no ring on her finger, no man by her side. But everyone noticed her.

  She looked to be of similar age to me, perhaps a year or two younger than my nineteen years. As if in quicksand, I forced myself to move forward, the burden of the luggage nearly forgotten. Look at me, I implored her with my thoughts.

  When her brilliant blue gaze collided with mine, she froze. Lush lips parted on a gasp, and an enchanting pink infused her high cheekbones. She had to have felt the connection too.

  Her stunning features seared into my mind. I had to talk to her. If only I could. One look at those around her made it clear that it would not happen, at least, not at this moment. But I was inventive. I’d find the perfect opportunity to steal time with her.

  Everything in my being pulled me toward her. She’s the one. I was sure of it. Electricity charged the air. I recognized this moment for what it was—one where everything would change. Destiny.

  The shrill beep of my alarm screeched, and I jackknifed in bed, ruthlessly ripped from sleep. I scrubbed my face with the palms of my hands before taking in the deep-red chairs, dresser, and double wood doors all visible from where I sat on the four-poster bed. I was in my room at the hotel, my latest project.

  It was just another dream. She wasn’t real. Even though my heart beat sluggishly from the loss of Francesca’s presence—from the possibility of her.

  Even with the physical grounding of my room—the hotel I owned rather than being employed in—I couldn’t shake the haunting dreams, the vision of the girl, nor the chains of despair whenever I went anywhere near the basement. That, I avoided at all costs.

  I forced myself to get up and get ready for a long day of work. Tiffany, my executive assistant would be out on maternity leave after tomorrow. There was a lot she and I had to cover before that happened, as well as acclimate her replacement to the workload.

  The double doors to my room clicked shut behind me, and I made my way down the hall to the penthouse suite that we’d turned into our temporary offices. Tiffany would be a few minutes late. With her pregnancy, she was often tired, and I’d reduced her hours to try to ease some of her stress. That gave me enough time to make a dent in my emails and down a cup of coffee. Buried in my work, the first hour flew by.

  “Wow, you look awful. What is it with this project?”

  “Thank you, Tiffany.” I spared her a glance from answering emails. “You, on the other hand, are glowing.”

  She snorted, and her curly hair bounced. “Spare me. I have cankles and heartburn. And the baby uses my bladder as a trampoline, or a punching bag.” A puff of air pushed past her lips. “It’ll be weird not coming in to work every day.”

  “You’ll be a fantastic mom.” I grinned, both happy and a little sad that she was leaving, even if it was only temporary. She was a great assistant. “You know you can take all the time you need with the baby. If you want to stay home longer, I’ll always have a job for you.”

  “I know.” Her voice softened. “Aaron and I’ve talked about it. I want to come back, but only part-time, and not right away.”

  “Whatever you need.” I pulled open my top right desk drawer and withdrew an envelope. “This is for you, Aaron, and the new baby.” I’d gotten them a cleaning service for the year, yard maintenance, and gift cards for a few of her favorite stores.

  Her eyes teared up as she looked inside. “Stone, this is too much.”

  “It isn’t.” She was the first executive assistant I could rely on for more than office work. There wasn’t anything that was too much for her and her family. She’d become a friend and helped to keep me sane while I dealt with the cacophony that was this place. She’d even run interference with Celia when I was low on sleep and short of temper. I’d hired Celia as a favor to her uncle, who was on my board and a good man. She, on the other hand, was a problem. I rubbed my forehead, trying to drive her from my thoughts.

  “What’s going on?” Tiffany’s brows scrunched together in worry. “You look stressed. Is it the dreams? Or did you go over the designs for the basement?”

  I ground my teeth. I could barely bring myself to go down there, let alone go over the proposed plans by the design team. I’d also be forced to deal with Celia, who was a little too enthusiastic about spending time with me in any capacity. Something my mother encouraged since her best friend was Celia’s mom. They’d been attempting to play matchmaker with us since I was young. But I knew Celia’s ambitions well and wanted nothing to do with the matrimony-gold-digging-noose she wanted to slip over my head. “I didn’t sleep well. And I’m not dealing with Celia right now.”

  Tiffany pursed her lips. “You did what you told her uncle you would do. You gave her a shot.”

  “Never mind about her.” I leaned back in my chair and got comfortable. We had a morning ritual where we’d spend several minutes going over anything she forgot to tell me from the day before due to pregnancy brain. “Have a seat and catch me up with what’s happening tomorrow.”

  “Ah, tomorrow.” A cheshire grin curved her mouth. “What are you going to do without me here?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, and a sliver of worry shot through me. “You did hire someone to fill in while you’re on maternity leave, right?” She said she had, but with how tired and forgetful she was, I was kicking myself for not following up on that with my usually self-sufficient assistant.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Her name is Adeline Rossi, and she’s a sorority sister.” She held up her palms facing me in defense over hiring someone fresh from graduating college. “Hear me out. She’s young, yes, but she’s incredibly smart. She skipped a few grades, had a full academic ride to my alma mater, and graduated with top honors.”

  “She has a high IQ.” I shrugged. “That doesn’t mean she knows about working with a Fortune 500 company like mine.”

  Her grin stretched impossibly wider. “Interesting that you say that. Adeline has had internships with Fortune 500 companies and even one with Stone Enterprises.”

  “That sound promising but—”

  “Wait, there’s more. She has a double major and two minors. I promise you, she’s brilliant. From her work experience, she’ll be able to handle my job without a problem. And… she speaks Italian. One of her father’s employees spoke it fluently, and she picked up the language when she was young helping out with paperwork and phones at her dad’s shop. She also took a few years of Italian in college.”

  “All right. If you trust she can keep up with the work, then I’m convinced.” But could she handle whatever cursed this hotel, my moods, and the tenacious Celia?

  Adeline

  * * *

  Dusk settled like a fine wine, casting a warm glow off the old-world renaissance buildings. I hurried down the sidewalk, my heavy luggage bumping along behind me on squeaky wheels. I’d managed to grab a couple of hours of sleep on the flight from Chicago to Verona, Italy. At the airport, I changed from comfortable flats, yoga pants, and my “coffee, a hug in a cup” T-shirt to a crème blouse, black pencil skirt, and ankle strap dress shoes—not the easiest to walk in, especially since my ankles buckled a few times. My heels clicked on the sidewalk, mingling with the other pedestrian traffic. I had the cab drop me off a few blocks from the hotel so I could walk a little through the town and soak up the atmosphere of the surrounding area.

  Excitement held some of the exhaustion at bay, and I wished Eileen were here with me. For my first time away from my hometown, this was incredible. Italy was
a symphony of rich espresso beans, the aroma of baked bread, infectious laughter, music, and the joyful chaos that saturated the city. My spirit soared. This job would unlock so many doors, allowing for travel and new experiences that I longed for.

  Up ahead, the Hotel Destino rose in dark and delightful majesty. Arches and Juliet balconies spoke of history. Romance emanated from the artful arrangement of brick and stone that dated back centuries. The building was in beautiful shape. My steps quickened in anticipation of stepping inside and being enveloped in what must house breathtaking frescoes, elaborate décor, and five floors of glorious opportunity.

  If I proved myself in this temporary job, I could very well be on the path to managing a Stone Enterprises hotel. The thought of being responsible for the day-to-day operations of one of Stone Crenshaw’s hotels made me giddy with anticipation.

  The front entryway was in sight, and as I skirted around a man in a black suit, I narrowly missed his briefcase, pummeling me in the knee. Instead, I teetered on my heels, and by some miracle, regained my balance. With a hard yank, I forced my rolling suitcase to return behind me, instead of careening wildly on one wheel as it had been. I didn’t let the stranger’s carelessness stop me from my destination, or to quell my excitement. My pace slowed as I took in the hotel up close. I’m here. I couldn’t believe it. With a deep inhale, I stepped forward, ready to embrace my carefully planned destiny.

  The gentle trickle of water drew my attention, and I turned my head in the direction of the source. A simple fountain gurgled, and my breath caught as a sense of familiarity stirred from the timeless entryway of the hotel. With my free hand, I reached for a necklace that I knew I’d toyed with thousands of times. It wasn’t there.

  Then a flash of light blinded me, and I stopped in my tracks, blinking repeatedly. Déjà vu hit me hard, and I swore I heard the swelling strains of violins and cellos in a haunting melody. Black spots crowded my sight, and I swayed. A memory tugged, and I wanted to follow it, allowing the darkness to invade my mind further.

  Lightheaded, my eyelids fluttered and I stumbled forward. A deep voice snapped in bone-chilling familiarity near my ear. Like an invisible thread, he anchored me here. There was something about the encounter I didn’t immediately recognize but that resonated in my soul.

  I fought the pull to unconsciousness while my mind straddled between the vision desperate to be seen and the man’s insistent voice in a fuzzy void that spun out of focus. Knees buckling, I went down, helpless against the dizziness and a sense of longing I couldn’t place.

  The world shifted, and I slammed into something hard. A wall? A deep, gravelly tone penetrated the haze, and I blinked to clear it away. Not a wall, but a man. Gunmetal eyes met my own, and the world snapped back around me in brutal clarity. Holy mother of… Heat crept up my neck. I surely resembled a lobster while wrapped in a smoking-hot stranger’s embrace. I put my hands on his substantial chest and eased back as a bolt of electricity shot through me at his touch, raising the fine hairs all over my body. What was that?

  “Are you okay?”

  His sinful baritone yanked me from my stupor, and I untangled myself from his arms. I missed the connection instantly. “Yes, of course.” Just mortified. “Thanks for breaking my fall. Jet lag…” I cast another glance at the fountain, unable to shake the weird thing that’d happened.

  “Do we know each other?” From head to toe, his gaze traveled over me.

  “No. No, I’ve never been to Italy before.” Realizing I’d let go of my heavy suitcase, I bent and grabbed the handle from the sidewalk, peeking at the hotel behind him. The foot traffic had thinned. At least there were fewer people to witness the awkwardness of my arrival. And hopefully, no one saw whom I would be working with.

  “We must have met—”

  “No. I’ve never been to Italy. I’m sure we haven’t.”

  His deep sex-and-sin voice made me want to stay in his arms, as if that was exactly where I belonged. Ah, stop! That wasn’t me. Eileen and my sorority sisters, yes, but not me. I was focused, if not jet-lagged. That had to be the reason he was affecting me so much.

  I sidestepped him, yet his hand remained on my arm, a conduit that linked us on a cellular level that I wasn’t sure I understood. “Thanks again.” I gave a little smile as his penetrating stare sent a wave of shivers over me. My sorority sisters would find him devastating. But I wouldn’t let the odd sense of attraction interfere with why I was here. I had bigger things to embrace inside, and I couldn’t wait to get in there. While I appreciated him saving me from certain road rash on my face, there was zero time for me to stand around chatting. That wasn’t why I was here.

  I took in the hotel, fighting the pull of the powerful man that stood too near. This was the path I’d chosen to succeed—a career, not a romantic encounter or a boyfriend. With my degree under my belt and the employment opportunity, I planned to rise out of poverty and create a name for myself in the business world. I would leave my mark.

  I drew my arm back, off-balance from the strange electric awareness his touch caused, my face still on fire, and he frowned. “I’m fine.” I held up my hands and swayed. His hand shot back out to grip my elbow.

  “You’re not fine,” he growled, impatience lining his tightly pressed lips.

  My spine snapped straight, and I hitched my new bag higher on my shoulder. “I am.”

  Silence stretched between us, and I fought the urge to offer more of an explanation. He was very intimidating with his six foot two or three inches of height and commanding presence. I needed to end this stare-off. “Thanks again,” I said, then pivoted to the right and hurried to the front entrance to the hotel. Wonder hit me as I crossed over the threshold and into the elegant foyer. This was where my dreams would be realized.

  Chapter 3

  Adeline

  Through the windowpane, stars sprinkled the sky in a midnight blanket, and my eyelids grew heavy as I lay in the plush bed in the most gorgeous room I’d ever slept in. It’d taken two hours for me to relax enough even to come close to sleep. Each time my eyes drifted shut, colors swirled, intermingled with a man’s voice, and I’d jolted awake. This time, I eased into slumber, the deep cadence of his whisper lulling me into my dream—to him.

  My new corset pinched, and I must have made another sound of distress. Madre cast a disapproving glance my way. Our skirts swooshed in a heavy fall of silk—pale blue for me and champagne for hers—as we left our rooms for the parlor on the first floor of the inn. The new dresses were the latest fashion, a gift from Padre, and I was to wear it to my chaperoned meeting with Angelo. My parents were hoping for a match as his family was cultured and rivaled ours in social status, finance, and power.

  I didn’t care about any of that. The heady scent of flowers filled the air as we meandered under high arches, and beneath a ceiling mural of the sky, I stretched my fingers on the opposite side of Madre to run over to the grand piano, itching to take a seat and test the ivory. As we passed the lovely fresco landscape in the opulent foyer, I longed to gaze upon the art. People mingled, and the soft tinkle of laughter buoyed my flagging spirits.

  I wasn’t ready to meet Angelo, in particular, because of the rumors of his boorish manner and wandering eye. Madre overlooked such things, saying the social status would outweigh any indiscretions and that she and Padre wanted me settled. I disagreed but only in my head. My older sister was already married with her second baby on the way. Madre wanted me to follow suit. My mind circled back to the bellhop.

  Tall, dark, and handsome drew my focus from the corner of the room. Travel trunks in tow, his strong arms bulged, and my mouth went dry. As he neared, my heart rate sped up. When we’d first arrived at the inn, he’d taken our luggage to our rooms. Even then, I couldn’t keep from following his movements, peeking at his face and warm brown eyes. When my parents weren’t looking, he’d flashed me a smile that’d made me breathless. This was the man I wanted an introduction to. But it wasn’t meant to be. Even I knew that a bell
hop was too far below our rung on the social ladder.

  From the corner of my eye, I tracked him as he approached. Mouth dry, I nearly stumbled as we stepped from the narrow hardwood floors to the handwoven European rug. His path hadn’t changed; would he speak to us? Would Madre allow it?

  “Pardon me, ladies, my name is Cristiano, and my padrone bid me to suggest you visit Casa di Giulietta, our famed home of Shakespeare’s Juliet before you attend the opera this evening.”

  Madre answered that we would indeed do so while I devoured Cristiano’s stunning features. His boss? I didn’t think he spoke the truth that the suggestion to visit was from his padrone. Not by the subtle hints of inflection he wove into his speech to Madre—but they weren’t meant for her. They were meant for me.

  When Madre wasn’t watching, he sent me a secret grin and opened his palm to reveal a simple necklace with a pendant of Saint Valentine dangling from the delicate silver chain. I wanted to sigh from the heat spreading throughout my body. He made me feel flushed, excited, and rebellious. My sisters may be content in their marriages, but I was not inclined to be swayed by who my parents deemed socially acceptable over love.

  My cell phone’s shrill alarm blared, ruthlessly yanking me from the most intricate dream I’d had in months, years maybe. This place, with its nineteenth-century décor, was to blame. It had to be. In record time, I managed to drag myself from the heavenly bed, shake off the odd night, and get dressed for my first day on the job.

  Soft light spilled from sconces strategically placed along the hall, and I had to work to see the bulbs in place rather than the way they’d flickered with candlelight in my dream. I smoothed my hand down my deep-gray pencil skirt, one of three that I owned, then knocked on the door to Stone Crenshaw’s office suite. He had one of two of the penthouse suites on the top floor, where Tiffany had told me to go. The sound of my knuckles rapping against the door sent another rush of nervous excitement through me.