CHAPTER EIGHT

C ADE L ANDRY ? In Lake Como? What the...?

‘What are you doing in Italy?’ Charley finally managed to ask, her head starting to ache.

And why do you look so gorgeous? she thought, annoyed with her physical response to him. Still.

The catastrophic frown on his face gave her the answer before he replied.

‘I’m here to see you,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you hear we’re the new It Couple everyone back home is talking about?’ His tone was low and husky, reminding her too forcefully of their one night together, but there was carefully leashed fury beneath—and the ruthless bite of disapproval. ‘I’ve been taking the heat for three weeks for those photos. Now I’ve finally found you, I set up this meeting in private so we can get a few things straight.’

He sounded angry— really angry. And while she could sort of sympathise on one level—perhaps it had been a bit cowardly to throw him to the wolves, then high-tail it to Italy—his self-righteous tone, and the judgemental frown, had her own anger at the hurt he’d caused returning full force. Not to mention that he’d just completely ruined her surprise luxury lakeside break.

He must have been the one to pay for all this. It had never been a lucky coincidence, a heaven-sent reward for all her hard work over the past three weeks. It had simply been a billionaire’s trick to trap her so he could tell her off again, like he had four years ago.

Well, this time she wasn’t going to run off with her tail between her legs.

‘I get it. So you’re the injured party now, are you?’ she hurled the accusation back at him. ‘When you were the one who chose to sleep with me on a bet?’

His scarred eyebrow launched up his forehead. ‘What?’

‘You heard me. The asinine bet you made with my brother and his friend. I know all about it. Adam told me. The only-dating-one-woman-for-the-summer thing. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because you’re stuck with me now so you can win some stupid property deal. But tell me, when did you decide it wasn’t going to be me? That you would just use me and then discard me? While we were having the best sex of my life or before that? While you were deliberately seducing me with your dance skills?’

And why did you decide it couldn’t be me? That I wasn’t good enough?

The pathetic question echoed in her head, but she cut it off.

He’d made her feel cherished, and then he’d trashed it all. And hurt her, when she’d convinced herself long ago she couldn’t be hurt. It would be funny if it didn’t make her feel so exposed. How could she have fallen into the age-old trap of mistaking great sex for actual emotional engagement?

‘And as if that isn’t bad enough,’ she carried on, because he seemed to have been struck dumb by her offensive, ‘you bribed Carlo and Signor Chiesa to do your bidding. Of all the sneaky...’

‘Wait a damn minute,’ he roared, cutting off her outrage in full swing. ‘ You ran out on me , not the other way around. And the bet had nothing to do with why I asked you to dance. Or why I slept with you. I wanted you and you wanted me and we were so damn good together I haven’t been able to forget you. And believe me, I’ve tried.’

She took some solace from his angry acknowledgement their lovemaking had been special for him, as well, but then he spoilt that, too.

‘But you’re damn straight we’re stuck together now for the rest of the summer—because acquiring Helberg is important to me and my business. And I’ll be damned if I’ll apologise for paying off whoever I had to, to get you here. Do you think I want to be in Italy, hiring out a whole hotel, just so I can talk with you in private because you were too immature to answer a single one of my texts or calls before blocking me? Newsflash , I don’t. Any more than I wanted to be asked intrusive questions about my sex life by every celebrity hack from here to California... Questions you encouraged by making out like we were a couple in all the interviews and free publicity you got off the back of those photos.’

‘I never said we were dating!’ she managed in her defence, but the trickle of guilt at his outrage was starting to play footsie with the nausea in her stomach.

‘You didn’t deny it, though, did you?’ he snarled. ‘So here we damn well are.’

His angry words were still echoing across the lake—her own fury starting to choke her—when a young waiter cleared his throat loudly, making them both aware of his presence.

‘ Signor , signorina , would you like your antipasti now?’ the poor boy asked, the two loaded plates in his hands trembling.

The nausea bounced into Charley’s throat at the scent of roasted garlic. ‘No,’ she said.

At the exact same time, Cade commanded, ‘Serve us, then leave.’

The waiter did Cade’s bidding and shot off.

‘Sit down,’ Cade said, the low-grade fury suggesting he was holding on to his temper by a thread.

‘I’m not eating with you,’ she replied.

‘Sit. Down. Now,’ he demanded through gritted teeth before grabbing one of the chairs and smacking it down on the terrace. ‘Or so help me, I will pick you up and put your butt in that chair myself.’

She glared at him. ‘Go on then, manhandle me. All that makes you is a bully who is bigger than I am. As well as a sneak.’

She was not scared of his temper. The last thing she needed was to have a tussle with him, because she would probably lose, but she also knew he wouldn’t hurt her. So she was more than ready to take her chances. And fight dirty if she had to.

He glared right back at her, the muscles she remembered admiring straining under the white shirt he wore with suit trousers. He thrust his fingers through his hair, dragging the thick waves back from his face, his movements stiff with anger. The charged silence seemed to snap between them, their standoff creating a force field of righteous fury and bruised egos.

But then he swung away and shouted a profanity into the night air. When he turned back, his features had relaxed a fraction. Enough for her to see the frustration in his face.

‘Sit down, Charlotte,’ he said again, but this time his tone was more resigned than furious. ‘I won’t touch you.’

It was enough of a climb-down to let her keep her pride.

Grudgingly she perched her bottom on the chair he’d pulled out. But once she was seated, she was grateful for the support, because her knees had begun to shake.

She’d never been afraid of confrontation. Had always been ready to speak her mind. But maybe she’d been a bit too ready.

He lifted an expensive bottle of wine out of the ice bucket next to the table.

‘You want a drink?’ he asked.

She shook her head. This answer, at least, was easy.

He poured himself a generous glass, then took a gulp. She had the sense, though, he wasn’t really tasting it.

‘I don’t bully women,’ he said as he placed the glass on the starched linen tablecloth. ‘And I refuse to feel bad for doing what I had to do to get you here. But my temper got out of hand, and for that I apologise.’

‘Fine.’ She nodded. ‘Then I guess I can apologise for posting those photos without asking you first.’

‘Okay. Apology accepted.’ It wasn’t exactly a truce, but it was close enough. Until he added, ‘But now we need to talk about the consequences.’

‘What consequences?’

‘Don’t play dumb, Charlotte,’ he said, the edge back. ‘I’m not about to forfeit Helberg. So you’re gonna have to accompany me to the States tomorrow morning. And date me, in public at least, until Labor Day.’

She stared. Not really believing he could actually be serious. Unfortunately, though, he looked deadly serious.

‘But that’s...’

Ridiculous? Extreme? An over-reach of epic proportions?

She was so astounded at the steely determination in his expression she was speechless, for one whole second. ‘I refuse to do it. I don’t want to date you, in public or in private. We don’t even like each other.’

‘We like each other well enough,’ he said implacably, as if he hadn’t just yelled a profanity across Lake Como for most of Lombardy to hear.

‘I see. Do you shout like that at all your girlfriends, then?’

‘Nope, but I’ve never dated a woman before who’s as contrary as you are,’ he announced. Strangely, although frustration still tightened his tone, she could also see approval in his expression.

That would be the same approval which had derailed her common sense once before. The answering pulse of awareness in her belly, right alongside the nausea, only disturbed her more.

What was wrong with her? Cade Landry was a domineering alpha jerk. He was only here because he needed her to win a stupid bet—and he’d used underhanded methods to put her at his mercy. How could she possibly still be attracted to him?

‘It won’t work,’ she said. ‘Apart from the fact I have more important things to do than being your stunt date for the summer—such as setting up my workshop in London and working on my new commissions,’ she added forcefully, to make it clear her business was just as important as his. ‘We’d end up killing each...’

‘Would those be the new commissions I helped you secure at the Broussards’ fais ?’ he cut in, slicing through her indignation and making guilt flare in her queasy stomach.

‘I don’t see how that’s relevant...?’ she managed, determined to believe it wasn’t.

So what if he’d helped introduce her around at the party? He’d only done it because he wanted to get into her knickers. And the quality of her work spoke for itself.

‘Uh-huh...’ He placed his elbow on the table and leant forward, which made her uncomfortably aware of the way his tailored shirt stretched across his pecs. ‘Well, how about this for relevance? If you don’t accompany me and pose as my loving girlfriend for the next five weeks, until Labor Day, I’ll sue you for invasion of privacy, and using my name and image without my permission to garner free publicity for your business.’

She stiffened, shocked by the steely threat, and the flicker of challenge in the sapphire blue eyes. Was he getting off on this?

‘You wouldn’t dare!’ she snapped. He was bluffing. He had to be. ‘And anyway, it would be completely counterproductive... If you sued me, it would torpedo your chances of winning that bet.’

‘Try me,’ he murmured. ‘But fair warning, Charlotte. You don’t want to underestimate how ruthless a guy who grew up in the child welfare system in St Martin Parish, Louisiana—being bumped from one place to another like a piece of trash—can be. Or how dirty I’m prepared to fight to get what I want.’

She tensed, shocked by the ruthless tone and the brittle cynicism in his eyes.

But then her heart wedged in her throat as she noticed the muscle ticking in his jaw, and the scar which cut through the day-old stubble on his chin—and she digested what he had revealed about his past without intending to.

She’d been vaguely aware of the stories about his background. That he had grown up in foster care and come from nothing to build the Landry empire. It was all part of the self-made man myth which he had helped to promote. But there had been a raw note in his voice when he talked about the boy who had felt like trash, which was very different from the man she had met in San Francisco and all those years ago in Las Vegas. The charismatic, arrogant, supremely confident man who hadn’t appeared to have a single chink in his armour.

And the strangest thought occurred to her.

Had she hurt him? By running out on him that morning?

She tried to bury the sentimental thought. She couldn’t drop down that rabbit hole again, of believing they had shared more than an intense physical connection. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. It occurred to her his presence here, his decision to fly to Italy and buy out a whole hotel just to trap her into having a private dinner with him, and his determination to make her date him—rather than just dating no one for the rest of the summer to keep to the one date rule—didn’t make a lot of sense.

She cut off the wayward thought because it wasn’t helping with her nausea, especially when he picked up his fork and began to eat the antipasti, apparently waiting for her to capitulate. He ate calmly and methodically as if he didn’t have a care in the world—and hadn’t just threatened her with legal action to bend her to his will.

Think on that, Charley, before you start getting choked up about his difficult childhood.

Whatever Cade Landry had been through as a boy, he certainly wasn’t vulnerable any more.

‘Even if I wanted to, I can’t spend the next five weeks in the US,’ she said, trying for pragmatic, because having a pissing contest with someone as ruthless as he was not likely to end well for her. ‘I’ve signed contracts, so my clients could sue me, too, if I don’t deliver. And I’m about to start hiring seamstresses to help with the work who will be based in London.’

To her surprise, the muscle in his jaw relaxed.

‘I have an event I want you to attend with me in Manhattan tomorrow night. But after that, I’ll be based on the West Coast. You can’t stay in London if we’re gonna make this fly, but I can have my people organise suitable workspace in San Francisco and have anything you need shipped out to the West Coast so you can relocate your business there for the summer. You can hire whoever you want for the duration. All expenses paid, including their salaries.’

The offer was surprisingly generous and, annoyingly, more than a little tempting.

Adam had released the fifty thousand pounds from her trust fund, but money was still going to be tight until she saw the turnover from her new commissions. The salaries for the two seamstresses were also a big expense, because she wanted to hire the best.

But she wasn’t ready to surrender yet...especially as she wasn’t sure where the little leap in her belly—which felt too much like exhilaration—was coming from.

But then another problem occurred to her.

‘Wait a minute. Are you expecting me to move in with you?’ she asked, appalled.

Having to act as his loving girlfriend in public would be tough enough, but she was still stupidly attracted to Cade—probably for the simple reason he was the only man who had ever given her an orgasm. While she did not plan to beat herself up too much about the arousal pulsing insistently between her thighs, as she watched him eat in the sunset, she also did not want to tempt fate any more than was absolutely necessary.

He lowered his fork, but the instant denial she had been hoping for didn’t come. Instead, his lips curved in the sensual smile which always made her blood pressure rise.

‘I don’t have a problem with exploring our chemistry some more. It’s just sex after all. A basic physical urge which we happen to be very good at. You said yourself it was the best sex of your life.’

‘Right,’ she muttered, the telltale blush—which only he had ever been able to trigger—firing into her cheeks.

Why on earth had she blurted that out? Talk about giving the man ammunition.

‘I’m not going to deny, it was damn good for me too,’ he continued, not helping to diminish the blush one bit. ‘But it wouldn’t be part of the deal, no. You can live wherever you want—and I’ll fund all your living expenses, just as long as you’re close enough that I can call on you to accompany me to any and all events I choose to attend, some of which may be at short notice.’

‘Okay, well, thanks for clarifying that,’ she murmured grumpily.

So basically, she would be totally at his beck and call then.

Terrific.

He chuckled, which made her feel even more exposed, and transparent. And wary.

It’s just sex.

That’s what he’d said. And he was right. So why couldn’t she stop her heart beating too fast at the prospect of fake dating him?

He tore off a chunk of bread and used it to wipe the olive oil off his plate. ‘Eat your supper and think about it,’ he said far too easily. ‘We can figure out all the details tomorrow before we fly out.’

She tensed at the definitive statement.

‘I haven’t said I’ll go with you yet,’ she protested, even though she wasn’t sure she had much of a choice.

No doubt he was more than ruthless enough to follow through on his threat to sue. And in some ways, she couldn’t blame him. She had created a media storm, however unintentionally. And while she was still super aggrieved at the thought of that stupid bet, this negotiation had at least established one thing.

Theirs was not and had never been an emotional connection.

Plus, if she was being entirely practical, the chance to have him pay for everything for a whole five weeks would be great for her business. She could work on the commissions and get the revenue from them into the bank to invest with her fifty thousand pounds when she returned to the UK. And dating him would give her loads more free publicity, because she intended to wear her own designs at every event he suggested.

Perhaps there was a way to turn this disaster into a professional opportunity?

‘I’m also not that hungry,’ she admitted.

His eyes narrowed, studying her with an intensity she found unsettling. ‘You look washed out, Charlotte. Are you unwell?’

It was the last thing she had expected him to say. But even so, the silly flicker of emotion at the gruff concern in his voice shocked her.

‘I’m fine...’ she said, although she didn’t feel fine. Not only was she exhausted and still feeling sick, her emotions were all over the place—especially where Cade Landry was concerned. Which could not be good. ‘It’s just...it’s been a long three weeks. And I’d like to go to bed now—in the very expensive luxury suite you paid for so sneakily,’ she added, unable to miss the opportunity for a final dig. ‘To consider your proposal.’

He nodded, not reacting to the jab. But when she stood up, he stood, too.

He walked around the table and snagged her hand before she could make the speedy exit she’d planned. Rough calluses rasped against her palm and had a predictable effect on the pulsing in her sex. But before she could find the energy to tug her hand free, he had lifted her fingers to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

The gesture was chivalrous, and strangely compelling, but not nearly as compelling as his husky tone when he added, ‘I intend to make this work, Charlotte, for both of us. Get some sleep.’ His lips curved in that tempting smile she remembered far too well. ‘And enjoy the suite, which you’ll be glad to hear cost me a fortune. We leave at ten tomorrow morning. We can discuss everything you need and make all the necessary arrangements on the flight to the US.’

She could have said no and argued with him some more—but the arrogant assumption that she had capitulated already was tempered by his concerned expression. And the warmth of his touch.

She hadn’t signed the lease yet for her new workspace in Shoreditch. She’d have to juggle a lot of stuff, but she could set things in motion on the plane tomorrow with his help. And she definitely planned to take full advantage of his financial support while posing as his stunt girlfriend. Not to mention tonight’s suite. Knowing his sneakiness had cost him a fortune would be some consolation at least.

She gave a weary sigh and nodded. ‘Fine, I’ll come to the US, but I want my own place.’

‘Sure.’ His sensual smile made the pulse in her belly pound harder, though, the challenging expression unmistakeable.

She dragged her hand free but had to bunch her fingers into a fist to neutralise the buzz on her knuckles which was now playing havoc with the pulse in her sex.

As she trudged up to her room, she wanted to be furious with him—and with herself—for being forced into this position... She thought of Adam and his stake in the bet. She didn’t want to make her brother lose Montague’s, the jewellery company owned by Helberg, but frankly he was on his own for entering into such an idiotic agreement with Cade and Zane in the first place. Plus, she’d never quite understood why buying back their mother’s old jewellery company meant so much to him. Their mum had taken no interest in it herself at the time of her death, as far as Charley could remember.

As she sank into a hot bath in the enormous clawfoot tub in front of a marble terrace which looked out over the lake, it occurred to her she wasn’t angry with Cade any more, because all she really felt was hopelessly confused. And even a little scared, thanks to the flicker of anticipation in her stomach alongside the nausea.

Because that flicker reminded her of the girl who couldn’t resist taking stupid risks simply to make herself feel valued—which she had always ended up regretting.

What she needed to remember was that Cade Landry was a dangerous man, because he had the power to make her want to do those impulsive, reckless things again, no matter what the consequences...