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

by Clare Connelly

“I’m going to be based in London, ongoing.”

  “But you manage our Rome operations.”

  “Enrico’s been my right hand for three years. He can slide into my role easily enough, and I’ll still be coming back for weekly dinners – I can come to Villa Fortune via the Rome office. This is going to be fine.”

  “But London? You don’t even like London.”

  Luca’s grin was wry. “No, not particularly.”

  “So why –?”

  He thought of Bronte and clarity sharpened in his mind. She was back with Ashton, but that didn’t matter. This wasn’t about needing to be with her romantically, it was just about needing to be in her life, in some capacity. Ashton was probably a safer bet for Bronte, anyway. It meant Luca wouldn’t hurt her anymore, but he could still see her. Speak to her. Hear her laugh. It wasn’t everything he wanted but it was better than nothing.

  “I realised it’s the only place I can be.”

  She listened as Alex – her temporary replacement – ran through the items she’d missed, leaving, perhaps the most important detail to last. “And of course Mr Montebello is here, but you know that already.”

  Her fingers trembled. “Which Mr Montebello?” There were six after all. Statistically, it was far more likely it was anyone other than Luca.

  “Luca,” Alex confounded that thought, shifting the papers into a neat stack and placing them on the corner of her desk. “Didn’t he contact you?”

  Her stomach rolled; she shook her head. “Why would he?”

  “Oh, he went tearing out of here when he heard about your dad. How is he, by the way?”

  Impatience was screeching through her ears. “Fine. But you were saying?”

  Alex pulled a face. “He just came in and shouted at me to send him everything I could on your dad’s accident. I presumed he came to the hospital?”

  Bronte blinked slowly. “I – no.”

  “Oh. Strange. Anyway, not to worry. He’s here now, if you need to see him.”

  Bronte’s head jerked towards his door, her pulse going into overdrive. “Why?”

  “Mmm,” Alex rifled through the papers and withdrew one – an email that had been printed out. “Company restructure, apparently.”

  Bronte took the piece of paper with fingertips that were trembling, her eyes struggling to focus as she read the text.

  From: Personnel

  Re: Company structure – important changes

  Effective immediately, Luca Montebello will be based in the London office. His vacancy in Rome will be filled by Enrico Di Amato, in the interim, while Rafaello Montebello continues his recovery. Fiero Montebello will ensure a smooth transition on the ground in Rome.

  Bronte had to read it three times before it sunk in. Luca was going to be based here? In London?

  “I guess it makes sense, with the Watney Group deal going ahead. There’s a lot of staff to absorb, and that’s going to require hands-on management.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Anyway, I’ll get back downstairs. Thanks for the loan of your desk.” He looked towards the window. “I like it up here.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

  Her equilibrium hadn’t fully returned when, half an hour later, she decided to get the information straight from the horse’s mouth. She’d driven herself batty trying to fathom exactly what had led to this – why in the world he would have decided to base himself in London. Perhaps it was just the Watney Group, like Alex had said, but even then, it didn’t make sense. There were other executives who could manage the transition. Heck, The Watney Group had their own CEO and board of directors in place.

  But this wasn’t about her. It couldn’t be. She’d got her hopes up once and she refused to do that again. He’d made his feelings perfectly clear.

  Nonetheless, she needed to hear it from him. She needed to understand so the tiny flicker of wishful thinking that was bursting to life inside of her could be quelled, once and for all.

  With legs that weren’t quite steady, she moved towards his office, knocking once. This time, she waited. It didn’t feel right to barge in.

  A few moments later, she heard his sigh. “I’ve told you, Alex, if you need to see me, just –,” he wrenched the door inwards and stopped talking. “You’re not Alex.”

  She could only stare at him. He was exactly the same, but different too. His eyes were guarded, his expression tight. He looked at her with an emotion she couldn’t place. Mistrust? Uncertainty? Her heart slammed into her ribs.

  “Bronte. You’re back?”

  She wished she’d brought some papers with her, anything she could hold, that could give her the pretext for having come to his office. She hadn’t, and if this was going to work, they needed to establish a new footing, anyway.

  “Come in.”

  She shook her head, staying right where she was. “I saw an email. You’re – staying here?”

  “In London? Yes.”

  Her lips parted. She felt dizzy and far too warm. “But, why?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed. “During the takeover, it makes sense,” he said, confirming what Alex had told her. “We’re expecting some difficulties as we wrangle their corporate structure in line with ours. Given that they’re a UK registered enterprise, and their executive board is based here, it just makes sense for me to be so as well.”

  She dug her fingernails into her palms, surprised by the strong urge to burst into tears.

  “Will that be a problem?”

  Her eyes lifted to his, her features a mask of uncertainty. “I – don’t know.”

  His lips tightened into a grim line. “I see.”

  She fidgeted her fingers at her side and his eyes dropped to the gesture. “Why don’t you come in, Bronte? This is a conversation I’d prefer to have in private.”

  But all Bronte could think about was what had happened the last time she was in his office. Her eyes shifted to the armchair and, as if reading her thoughts, he looked over his shoulder. When he turned back to face her, she saw a glimpse of something else in his features.

  Sadness.

  Her heart cracked.

  What had started out as a good deed had turned into this – two people hurting. But why? Why was he looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders?

  “This won’t take long.”

  She bit down on her lip and nodded. If they were going to be working together then they had to find a way to make that happen.

  “Fine.” She waited for him to take a step back, only then did she cross the threshold of his office.

  She focussed on his desk; that felt safe.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  She shook her head. This was like ripping off the worst Band-Aid of her life. She just wanted it dealt with. “This will be fine, Luca. If you’re worried about how I’ll cope working with you, it won’t be an issue. What we were doing – it was just – a fling. And it’s over now.”

  God, she was a terrible liar. But he nodded slowly, apparently not doubting the sincerity of her words. “I know.”

  Of course he knew! It had never even been a thing for him.

  “You haven’t applied for any of the positions HR put your name down for.”

  She shook her head. “Did you do that because you don’t want to work with me?”

  His head jerked back a little. “Cristo, no, Bronte, that was all for you.”

  Slightly mollified, she lifted her shoulders. “I told you, I like what I do. But if you think I won’t be able to do my job because of what happened between us –,”

  He lifted a hand to silence her. “That never entered my mind. You’re a professional, I know that.” He cleared his throat. “How’s your father?”

  Something else Alex had said filtered through to her mind. “He’s much better. It wasn’t a stroke, in the end, but something temporary that completely mimics the symptoms. It was horrible t
o see him like that but day on day he’s improved, and yesterday he was back to cooking, so that’s something.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  She hesitated a moment. “Alex – the temp who covered me – I thought he said you – came to the hospital? But he was wrong, right? I mean, why would you?”

  “He wasn’t wrong.”

  Bronte’s heart shifted. “What?”

  “When I heard about your dad’s accident, I came to see you.” He walked away from her, towards the coffee machine, pushing a pod into the top and sliding a cup under the nozzle. She watched, a frown on her face.

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “No.”

  “You came to see me but – was I not there?” That didn’t make sense. Bronte had basically moved into the hospital.

  “I did see you.”

  She couldn’t understand what he meant.

  “You were busy. I didn’t want to intrude. I ascertained your father’s condition and figured you had all the support you needed.”

  It didn’t make any sense. Why come all that way and not tell her he was there? Why come all that way at all?

  Unless –

  Her eyes swept shut as she replayed the last few days, and Ashton’s constant presence with her family, during the hospital time.

  “When you say ‘support’,” she prompted softly, her voice uneven.

  “Yes, I saw him.” Luca’s fingers were white as they gripped the coffee cup. “I presume you’re back together?”

  Bronte’s legs weren’t steady enough to hold her. She reached for his desk, as support. When Luca turned to face her, it got worse. She propped a hip on the edge.

  “Why do you say that?”

  He grew very still. “Are you saying you’re not?”

  “I’m not saying anything. I was asking,” she murmured.

  “Bronte,” her name was a plea on his lips. “I saw you two. It was quite obvious you’d resumed a relationship.”

  He sounded – hurt. No, worse. Tortured. His voice sounded as though it were filled with heavy, aching pain.

  She wished again that she had some papers or something she could hold, anything to keep her hands occupied.

  “Ashton is a family friend. He was at the hospital in that capacity.”

  Luca stared at her. “I saw the two of you –,”

  “I don’t know what you think you saw,” she said quietly, “but there’s nothing between us.”

  Luca turned away from her, drinking his coffee, his back ramrod straight. She stayed where she was, trying her hardest to make sense of what was happening.

  “That changes things.”

  Her heart stammered. “Why?”

  He finished his coffee, placing it on the benchtop quietly before turning to face her.

  “I thought this was safe.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought you were with him and that I could be here, see you, be near you, without hurting you. Because you had him.”

  It made no sense. “I don’t understand.”

  He expelled an exasperated sigh. “I don’t trust myself not to touch you again, Bronte. If you were with him, then it was easy – nothing could happen between us.”

  Her lips parted. “You don’t want anything to happen between us. You made that perfectly clear last time we – last time I saw you.”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw.

  “You told me it was just sex.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “And you believed me,” he said, shaking his head as he moved towards her, his eyes glittering with ruthless control.

  She shivered, standing, moving away from him even when her body was wanting to pull towards him like a magnet.

  “Of course I believed you. You’d said that all along.”

  “I lied.”

  The words were so simple yet they made no sense.

  “I have lied to you three times, Bronte. Three.” He lifted that many fingers in the air. “When I told you that all we had was sex, when I said I wouldn’t develop feelings for you, and just now, when I told you I’ve come to London because of Watney.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Why did you come to London?”

  “Why do you think?” He closed the distance between them. “I came because I couldn’t stay away from you. I came because I finally realised that I felt more alive in the few days I spent with you than I ever have in my life. I came because I needed to be close to you, even when I still didn’t feel we could be together. I just have to be in your life, in some way.”

  He lifted his hands to her cheeks, holding her face beneath his, so she stared up at him. “When I thought you were with him, I was so jealous, so unbearably jealous, but I was also glad. I hoped he could make you happy and I could just be a part of your life, even on the periphery. Then I wouldn’t ever hurt you, and I’d know you were happy.”

  “Stop it.” She wrenched her face away, tears clogging her throat now. “You’re so bloody messed up, Luca. You keep talking about not wanting to hurt me, but don’t you see? You’ve already done that. You hurt me, you destroyed me. The damage is done.”

  He flinched. “I know.”

  “No, you don’t know.” She gestured to the armchair. “I knew I was in love with you, that day in your office. I thought that was the start of something new for us – something more than a fling borne out of a lie. But you slapped me away so hard and fast, my God. You barely looked at me afterwards. I have never felt so cheap, so unwanted, as I did that day. And by you! A man who’d made me feel – so good, when I needed it most. It was a betrayal I never expected from you.”

  He swore in his native tongue. “I know that. I saw it all on your face and don’t think I didn’t hate myself too, that day, Bronte. I was terrified of hurting you and so pushed you away as quickly as I could. I figured it would be a short term pain.”

  “You were wrong,” she snapped. “It’s permanent. I will never forget how that felt.”

  “Don’t say that,” he demanded, bracing his palms on his desk.

  “Why not?”

  He blinked, shaking his head. “Never mind. You can say whatever you want. Tell me how you feel. How I made you feel. I’ll listen.”

  She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut again. “There’s no point. It’s in the past. If we’re going to work together then we should just leave it there.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Is that what you want?”

  She turned away from him, her blood pounding through her veins. Was it? Could she work with this man, knowing she’d always love him? Knowing what they’d shared?

  “I don’t know.”

  Silence. A heavy, throbbing silence filled with their history.

  “Can I tell you what I want?”

  She bit down on her lip, tears sparkling in her lashes. “Okay.” Her voice wobbled.

  “I would like to date you.”

  She fidgeted her fingers in front of her, not turning around to look at him.

  “I would like to date you,” he repeated. “And I would like you to move in with me, just as soon as you’re ready. I would like you to spend every night for the rest of your life with me. I would like to see you smile and to know you’re smiling because of how happy I make you.”

  Everything felt strange. Was she dreaming?

  “What happened to ‘you’ll never commit to anyone’?”

  “You happened, Bronte, and you made me see what a fool I’ve been. I have been so scared of hurting you I didn’t realise that forcing us to live without each other is the worst kind of pain there is.”

  He moved towards her; she heard his clothes rustling and felt the air change as he got close. “I cannot promise I won’t hurt you again, or that you won’t hurt me. That’s not realistic. But I can promise I will fight for you, and us, with my dying breath. I can promise I will love you, all my life.”

  She turned to face him, slowly. No, she
wasn’t dreaming. He was right in front of her, and if she had any doubts about the sincerity of what he was saying, his expression would have convinced her. She felt the truth beaming from him.

  “I love you,” he said quietly. “I think I fell in love with you in that tiny country pub when you got drunk on cocktails.”

  She laughed unevenly. “Or when I stripped down for you afterwards?”

  “No,” he shook his head, moving closer. “It was when you got all rambling and talkative and I found myself fascinated by every thought you expressed. I should have known then that I was in trouble.”

  “You kept pushing me away,” she tried to cling to common sense as a life raft in the fast moving waters of hope. “You said it was just sex.”

  “I told you – I lied.”

  She shook her head. “I think you believed it on that day.”

  “I thought I was being kind, pushing you away. I thought it would enable you to get on with your life. I didn’t want to be some guy who’d done the wrong thing by you.”

  “Instead you were just some guy who broke my heart.”

  “And I will always be sorry for that.” He moved closer. “But something you said to me, at Athlestone Park, has kept running through my mind.”

  “What?”

  “You said sometimes life takes us down roads we don’t expect.” His eyes held hers. “I never expected to meet anyone like you. I sure as hell didn’t expect an altruistic offer to turn into this. I went away with you because you were sad and I couldn’t bear to see that. I went away with you because you had a problem and I could help. But I stayed there with you, I slept with you, because I fell in love with every damned thing about you.”

  She couldn’t form words.

  “Have dinner with me tonight,” he forestalled her. “Give me a chance to convince you.”

  Deep down, she was already convinced, but Bronte nodded slowly, a challenge passing from her to him, a gauntlet thrown down. “One date – one night. That’s it.”

  His laugh was a deep rumble. “We’ll see.”

  It was a date that turned into a weekend. A weekend of Luca cooking for Bronte and making her laugh, and more importantly, making her forget. It was a weekend that changed the make up of her soul and made her feel as though life was suddenly almost too bright to bear. It was a weekend that left her with absolutely no doubts as to what she wanted.