It Started With A Lie: A forbidden fake-boyfriend Cinderella romance (The Montebellos Book 5)

by Clare Connelly

  It Started With A Lie

  The Montebellos V

  Clare Connelly

  Contents

  About the Author

  Dear Reader

  Join the Club

  It Started with a Lie

  The Sheikh’s Baby Bargain

  Now in Audio

  Books By Clare Connelly

  About the Author

  Clare Connelly grew up in a small country town in Australia. Surrounded by rainforests, and rickety old timber houses, magic was thick in the air, and stories and storytelling were a huge part of her childhood.

  From early on in life, Clare realised her favourite books were romance stories, and read voraciously. Anything from Jane Austen to Georgette Heyer, to Mills & Boon and (more recently) 50 Shades, Clare is a romance devotee. She first turned her hand to penning a novel at fifteen (if memory serves, it was something about a glamorous fashion model who fell foul of a high-end designer. Sparks flew, clothes flew faster, and love was born.)

  Clare has a small family and a bungalow near the sea. When she isn't chasing after energetic little toddlers, or wiping fingerprints off furniture, she's writing, thinking about writing, or wishing she were writing.

  Clare loves connecting with her readers. Head to www.clareconnelly.co.uk to sign up to her newsletter, or join her official facebook page.

  Dear Reader

  This is not the book I intended to write for Luca. I had a whole other story all worked out but when it came time to put pen to paper, I couldn’t turn Luca into the bad guy I had planned for him to be. The truth is, he’s nice. A nice guy with a heart of gold, and the angsty, heartbreaking book I thought would come fifth in this series is on hold – for now. Never fear, there’s still bucket loads of tension ahead, but a lot more smiles and ‘ahhhhh, awwwwws’ as well. It just feels like what we all need right now.

  I hope you love, love, love Luca and Bronte. Please take a second to leave a review when you’re finished with the book!

  Clare x

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  And if you loved this book, please take a moment to leave a review once you’re done. Thank you!

  It Started with a Lie

  The Montebellos - Book V

  Following this novel is a bonus full-length book.

  Because we can never have too many happy endings, right!? ✨

  1

  “THIS ISN’T WHAT I HAD in mind.”

  If only the ground could open up and swallow Bronte Hill whole. She couldn’t even look at her boss – she didn’t dare. What must he been thinking? How the hell did I get into this, that’s what. He must be wondering what had possessed him to go along with this terrible idea.

  Luca Montebello wasn’t your average man – he wasn’t your average anything. Luca Montebello was a stick of dynamite – a gorgeous, sultry, Italian billionaire who somehow always managed to appear as though he’d stepped out of the pages of a men’s fashion magazine while simultaneously looking as though he was far too busy being rugged and masculine to spend any time whatsoever on his appearance.

  And he was here.

  With Bronte.

  When he spoke, his voice was thick with a European accent, tinged with American vowels, husky and deep, so that despite the fact she had precisely zero interest in dating – and never would again – she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of something zip through her abdomen, a heat of desire rather than mortification simmering in her blood.

  “It’s a bedroom.”

  She gulped. “Yeah, but –,” She lifted her eyes to his then, her dark hair a curtain she was grateful she could partially hide behind as she gestured towards the miniscule room. “I mean – come on.”

  “There’s a bed. I presume through that door we will find a bathroom. What’s the problem?”

  “I –,” she gaped. “Seriously?”

  His grin was like warm candle wax on her skin, all delightful and reassuring. She balked at the thought.

  “What did you expect?”

  “Something – more spacious.”

  He lifted a brow. “These English country house hotels are always poky. Charming, but small.”

  “I came here with my sister when she was looking at wedding venues. We stayed in a suite. It was – I should have confirmed –,”

  Amusement she hadn’t expected tugged at his lips. “Yes, I’m surprised you didn’t. You usually never let a detail escape you.”

  It was true. Professionally, Bronte prided herself on being across every item of concern, but when it came to her personal life, it was a big, old mess. As evidenced by this latest turn of events. “I’m so sorry.”

  His sigh was unexpected. “Bronte, please don’t keep apologising or I really will regret offering to do this.”

  Enormous green eyes fixed on his face and for a moment a semblance of sanity returned. “I’ll never understand why you did.”

  He lifted his shoulders, a study in unconcern. “Because my good deed quota has been a little low lately. Now, after you.”

  Bronte had been expecting a room with a sofa she could sleep on, a little space for them to spread out, somewhere that Luca could work. Instead, they’d ended up with a double bed – not even a Queen, heaven help her – a small, ancient bedside table each, and a door that must surely, as he’d guessed, lead to a private bathroom. He moved towards it and without intending to, her eyes followed, glued to his tapered hips and curved butt, perfectly shown in the tailored suit he wore. Everything about him was tailored, in fact. Shoes, suit, shirts – she knew for a fact he was furnished with items of clothing from a premier couture fashion label, but each of them crafted specifically for him. And it showed.

  “Well, the good news is, the bath is enormous,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. “Apparently no space was spared in here.”

  Bronte moved towards him, stepping into the bathroom with a sinking sense of despair. The bathroom was, while not exactly spacious, much more palatial. Marbled tiles, gold fittings, and a window that offered a sweeping view of the countryside, all rolling hills and oak trees. A bath was beneath the window, easily large enough to accommodate the two of them. Where the hell had that thought come from? She squeezed her eyes shut as though that might erase the mental image.

  “I could always sleep in the bath –,” she said quietly, trying to imagine the logistics of that, and the subsequent neck pain.

  “Yeah, right, that’s what I’ll make you do. Sleep in the bath.” He flicked his eyes heavenward in a delightfully boyish gesture that momentarily robbed her of breath. In the four years since working at the Montebello offices in London, Bronte had got to know all of the Montebello men, except Gabe, who preferred to take a back seat to the family business, working remotely as much as possible. She respected each of them but wouldn’t have said she knew any well enough to ‘like’ them, except perhaps Nico who always took the time to stop and chat, and lately to show off copious photos of his wife and baby Estelle. But Luca she knew almost as little as she did Gabe. He spent a lot of time at the New York office, and Rome, and she’d always been inexplicably intimidated by him. Seeing him like this – relaxed and incredibly disarming – was making it hard to hold a though
t in her head.

  “This is your sister’s wedding. Obviously you need to be well-rested. We’ll share the bed; it’s no big deal.”

  “Right.” Her tongue darted out, licking her lower lip as she nodded slowly. “No big deal.”

  Except it was a very, very big deal. The idea of lying in a teeny double bed with Luca’s body just beside hers? Her heart rate was hammering her like crazy. Nerves, she thought with chagrin. Nerves because she’d only ever been with one man and he’d broken her heart silly, and he was going to be here at this wedding with his gorgeous new girlfriend. And Bronte would be lying in a double bed with her boss, who’d taken pity on her tear-stained blotchy face and offered to help. This was an unmitigated disaster.

  “It’s not too late to go, Luca,” she groaned, shaking her head, so he laughed, a deep rumble, and came to put his hands on her shoulders.

  “What is it you’re worried about?”

  His voice sent spirals of something unfamiliar whooshing through her.

  “You’ve read the newspaper articles. You think I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?”

  Her throat felt thick. She blinked up at him.

  “You think I’m as bad as the tabloids would have you believe? A different woman in my bed every night?”

  She shook her head, her tongue heavy. “I – never thought about it.”

  Another laugh. “You’re one of a kind.”

  “Because I don’t spend time postulating about my boss’s sex life?”

  “Because you have no interest in gossip. You’re as straight-laced as they come.”

  “I’m bored, Bron. Bored with Netflix on a Saturday night, bored with the same meals for dinner every week, bored with quiet walks through the heath on a Sunday. I’m twenty six years old, for God’s sake. I want to live my life before it’s over.” Ashton’s remarks hadn’t been designed to cut so deep, but they had. Not only had he broken up with her, he’d systematically dismantled everything she’d thought of as a very nice life.

  Renewed pain slashed her spine. She looked away, her chin jutted.

  “Listen to me,” Luca moved her shoulders gently, a friendly shake to draw her attention back. Pushing away her pain she did so, lifting her face to his.

  “This is a room. Most of the weekend you’ll be busy with wedding commitments and I can work from the restaurant or bar. Hell, I can work from my car, if it comes to it. Or a country pub, whatever. This is where we will come and sleep, you on your side of the bed and me on mine, and it will be as simple as that. Understood?”

  Her heart squeezed but she didn’t nod. She looked through the bathroom door towards the bed, uncertainty passing her.

  “Maybe if I ask they’ll be able to find us a different room.”

  “By all means,” he said with a voice that had shifted gear, a voice that was a little darker, less patient. “Given that it’s your sister’s wedding though, I would imagine all rooms have been reserved for months. But if you really don’t trust me, then go ahead.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you –,” she denied quickly, mortified he might think so.

  He dropped his hands away. “I’m not interested in you, Bronte. You’re a secretary in my office. You work for my family. Have I ever, in all the time you’ve worked for Montebellos, given you reason to think I would have my wicked way with you the second we were alone?”

  Great. Now she really felt like she wanted the ground to swallow her deep into the bowels of the earth. Humiliated didn’t come close to explaining it. She shook her head, never having felt sillier and less attractive in her whole life.

  “No.” She was pleased her voice emerged no-nonsense. She sounded much better than she felt.

  “Of course not, because you’re someone I employ and that’s a line I’d never cross. Not only that, you’re quite clearly still in love with your ex, and only someone with zero morals or integrity would take advantage of you at a time like this.”

  She shuddered at his description. “I’m not still in love with him.”

  “Of course you are. Why else would you care so much about turning up here single?”

  “Because he’s bringing his new girlfriend.”

  There was a knock at the door and Bronte was glad to bring the inquisition to an end. She moved away from Luca before he could answer, taking the four steps necessary to reach the door and pulling it inwards.

  “Hello,” a dainty blonde stood on the other side, freckles dancing across her ski jump nose, round blue eyes framed in thick black lashes. “I’m Jane. This is my home.” Her smile was spontaneous. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with the room.”

  With a feeling of uncertainty, Bronte threw a glance over her shoulder. Luca was propped in the doorframe, watching her with sardonic amusement. Feeling gauche and naïve, she nonetheless straightened her spine and turned back to Jane. “Actually, it is on the smaller side. I don’t suppose there’s –,”

  The blonde’s smile dropped as she looked over Bronte’s shoulder with a grimace, her cheeks flushing pink.

  “I’m sorry,” she bit down on her lower lip and Bronte had the strangest feeling she might be about to cry. Oh, great. What had she just done?

  “The Pemberley wing flooded a few weeks ago, taking several of our larger rooms out of action. We had to do a last minute rearrange to accommodate your party – as it was, at least two dozen guests are staying in town at The Swan and Duck – and because our notes indicated you were travelling as a single, you were allocated this room.” She fidgeted her pale fingers in front of her. “You were also one of the last to check in so all the rooms are now in use. I’m so sorry. I can see if there’s someone who might swap? Or – I –,”

  She felt Luca standing behind her, his presence warm despite the fact they weren’t touching. “The room is charming. Bronte’s just anxious because it’s our first weekend away together.” Bronte looked up at him just in time to catch his jovial wink. She stared at him, impressed by his acting abilities. She could almost have believed he was her actual, real-life boyfriend.

  “Oh, thank you. It’s been such a mad panic but I see what you’re saying – for two people, this room is – and you’re so tall – your feet are going to be dangling off the foot of the bed.”

  Luca’s grin made Bronte’s knees feel wobbly. “Then I guess I’ll have to get inventive.”

  Bronte’s stomach looped. She gripped the door handle, turning back to Jane. “Thank you for checking on us. The room really is lovely.” She pushed the door shut then turned around, her mouth open as she stared up at Luca.

  “What were you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s going to think we’re a couple,” Bronte hissed.

  “Isn’t that the point?” He hissed back, imitating her tone perfectly.

  She stared at him, comprehension of their situation dawning. “Oh God.”

  “What?”

  “It’s just…this is a whole weekend. A long weekend. And we’re going to have to fool people into thinking we’re –,”

  He stared at her straight-faced, waiting for her to continue, but she had the most infuriating sense he was laughing at her.

  “Yes?”

  She dredged a tone of ice into her voice. “Actually a couple.”

  “You mean we might have to,” he gasped dramatically. “Hold hands?”

  She sent him a withering look before reminding herself this was her boss and he was doing her a huge, unexpected favour. Then again, if she’d seriously thought about the reality of spending three nights in a tiny hotel room with Luca Montebello she might have chosen the sympathy glances and feeling like a third wheel over this.

  “I don’t know. What should we do?” She moved away from the door, sitting down on the edge of the bed, aware Luca was watching her the whole time.

  “Bronte?”

  She nodded distractedly. How could they best convince people they were an item? Not people. Ashton, she thought
with a grimace, her heart lurching with the realisation that within an hour she’d be in the same room as her ex. Panic made her skin crawl.

  “Bronte?”

  She lifted her eyes to his face, her heart sinking further. He was so handsome. From his symmetrical face that looked as though it had been chiselled in stone to his wide, curving lips, eyes the colour of dark caramel, thick, black hair, and a physique that was half-Olympic athlete, half-Greek-God.

  “You’re a very smart woman, si?”

  She tilted her head to the side. If that was true, she sure as hell didn’t feel it.

  “I know you’re smart because I’ve seen your university transcripts. I’ve seen your work, and your brain in action. I know you’re intelligent. You’re attractive. Everyone in the office seems to like you so I presume you’re funny, and nice.”

  Her heart skidded against her rib cage. How did he know she had made good friends at work?

  “What’s your point?”

  “You’re acting as though you’ve never confronted a difficult situation in your life.”

  “I’m –,” she frowned. “This is complicated.”

  He came to sit beside her. “Why?”

  “Well, it’s my sister’s wedding for one. We’re about to tell a whopping lie to my family.”

  “Not a whopping lie. A tiny, harmless fib. And I’m sure they’d understand if they knew how upset you’d been at the prospect of seeing your ex again.”

  “No, they wouldn’t,” she said with a feeble laugh. “My parents are as moralistic as you can get. Lies don’t wash with them. They’d think this was crazy.”