Gino, sensing my optimism like a hyena on a carcass, pounced. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? All of you."
He finally rose, teetering once before steadying himself against the peeling wall behind him. He took a step forward so his face was inches from mine. "Too bad I'm not going anywhere."
He shoved past me and I followed. "What does that even mean?"
He stopped, his back to me. "What that means is, everything you're afraid to see happen, is going to happen. Do you think I give two shits about that stupid company? It was more important to Papa than spending time with us. If you think I care about that, you've got another thing coming."
"You're full of shit," I snapped. "That was a long time ago. When things were tough, when the company was about to go belly up, Papa apologized. After that, he was the best father he could have..." I trailed off.
Gino was climbing the staircase.
"So that's it?" I called after him. It was one thing to imagine that my brother could be so pigheaded, so selfish and shitty, but seeing it in person was something else.
He paused, shrugging. "Yeah, that's it. I don't want that dumb company. That curse of a family legacy. Ha, I'll sell it the first chance I get. Though, who knows? Maybe I'll have a bit of fun with it first. See if it's as sturdy as Papa claimed."
I followed him up the staircase. That was it, then. Under no circumstances could Gino be permitted to inherit Bruno Inc.
I would have to marry. There was simply no other way around it.
I called Kandice as soon as I was in the taxi and headed away from that shitty dump of a disco tech.
"You still on for tonight?"
"No, I decided to move to Cambodia." A pause, then laughter. "Of course I'm still on. Are you?"
"Yeah," I said. "Just making sure."
With the number of things that had already gone wrong today, I couldn't leave this date with Kandice to chance. "Where are you staying? I can pick you up."
"At the Elegance Bund Hotel," she said. "If you come now, you're going to be really early."
"Would that be really bad?"
"Depends on how quickly I can pull on my dress," Kandice said, though I could hear the smile in her voice. "Come on over, but you may have to wait a bit."
I arrived at her place twenty minutes later, the taxi driver not thrilled about having to wait. I handed him an extra stack of bills. That seemed to rework the grimace on his face into a smile.
I headed into the lobby. I was about to ask the clerk to call Kandice's room number when I heard heels clicking across the marble floor.
Kandice caught my eye and she smiled wide. "Hey."
I swallowed. Maybe this whole thing was bogus, but at least my faux wife was damned good looking. Tonight she was wearing a tight siren red dress that hugged her curves, beckoning my fingers to trace them. A body that luscious, with such well-defined hips, almost made me wonder if it was the result of a magical, body-shaping garment, but I knew it was real. I had experienced its glory myself.
Yes, Kandice just had a damned great body. The slightly amused smile that curved over her red painted lips... Yeah, maybe tonight was for my family, for figuring out this arrangement further. But it didn't mean it wouldn't be unenjoyable. Especially considering she looked as hot as she did.
I strode toward her and took her hand in mine. Yes, tonight would be something.
9
Kandice
"Liquid Laundry," I repeated the name of the restaurant bar slowly, wondering if maybe this was some Asian to English translation that Giovanni had butchered, or if I'd just misheard him.
"Yeah," he said easily. "Doesn't it sound like your cup of tea?"
I studied the chisels of his face, searching for evidence of the joke. I found nothing. I decided to play along.
"Yeah, sure. Nothing like tasty laundry detergent. Shout brand just happens to be my favorite."
He smirked at me and gave my wrist a little tap. "I am being serious."
"So was I," I quipped as the cab stopped outside the bar.
Inside was a wall with thick chains hanging down, the name of each beer on a chalk sign hooked at different heights. The soft yellow lighting matched the honey-color fluorescence of the fridge behind the stainless counter.
The atmosphere was dark, somber, and sexy.
Damn it. I needed to get my mind out of the gutter and on a logical path. This decision I was seriously considering was a big one. Hell, this decision that I make will absolutely, one hundred percent, affect the rest of my life. It was either going to save me or doom me to years of a miserable, fake life.
As Giovanni held open the door and we made our way inside, I set my chin high.
No. One decision couldn't ruin everything. I didn't believe that. Couldn't.
That would have to mean that the article I'd written about Peter Khan, exposing his criminal activity, really had ruined my life. I wouldn't accept that. No way.
The waitress took one look at Giovanni and smiled. "Mr. Bruno?"
He nodded, and she set off at a fast clip. "Right this way."
She led us to a spot that you wouldn't have noticed even if you were a regular. It was around a corner and completely secluded.
Leading me by the small of my back, Giovanni leaned into my ear. "This way we can have our privacy."
That sounded good to me. If there was one thing I wouldn't consider to be normal dinner conversation, it was discussing the details of your fake marriage. I was already feeling anxious about it as it was. I didn't need nosy people overhearing us making it worse. Not that most people here would probably understand English anyway, but still.
Once Giovanni ordered drinks, the waitress left and we got right to it, or at least, I expected us to. Instead, Giovanni began with small talk. "How are you?"
What was stranger was that it appeared as if he genuinely cared. Who knew, maybe businessmen were exceptionally good at creating a façade, making you believe they were interested in you, manipulating their emotions to suit the mood. I know my boss had always been a whiz at it.
"I'm okay," I said. "I called and talked to my parents and my best friend, so that made me feel a bit better."
"What did they say about our arrangement?" Giovanni asked.
"How do you know I told them?" I asked, before conceding. "I told my friend, not my parents."
Giovanni shrugged. "A hunch. I know how girls can get with their girlfriends. I've stumbled on Maria and her girlfriends tittering over some secret they've shared with each other time and again."
"Maria's you sister?"
He nodded. "And no, I haven't told her. Haven't told anyone yet. But I'm not the one who needs advice. I know this is the right decision. For both of us."
He took both of my hands in his. God, those eyes... I could lose myself in them if I wasn't careful.
I both wanted to pull my hands away and keep them there indefinitely.
Instead, I took a breath. "So, I forget," I said. "You said we have to fool your mom and sister too, right? Won't they be suspicious that we literally just met and are now getting married?"
"I thought about that," Giovanni confirmed. "And yeah, my mom and Maria are smart. Smarter than I am." He chuckled. "They'll be suspicious, and they probably won't warm up to the idea completely, at least for a while."
Great, I thought to myself, though Giovanni didn't seem concerned.
"They're just like that," he continued. "As for the believability of our story... I thought of a way to make it more convincing. I'm going to tell them that I've been keeping you a secret for the past few months, and that's partially why I was so eager to come to Shanghai on this trip in the first place. All I'm going to tell them as to why it’s been secretive, well, it’s because you're a journalist."
"A journalist," I repeated, uncomprehendingly.
"Yeah," he said. "If you knew Papa, you'd understand. A few years ago, there was an up and coming journalist, an overeager new grad who loved to publish first and ask questions lat
er. She published a piece, lambasting Bruno Inc. for their use of asbestos in one of our formulas. The claim was lodged by one of Papa's jealous competitors. It was all bogus, of course. But for a few days, before people could verify the claim was ill-informed, before we could provide our evidence, it had already caused quite a stir. From then on, Papa hated all journalists. He dismissed the whole profession as a bunch of liars publishing garbage. So, he wouldn't be exactly thrilled that you are one."
"I’m not one anymore," I said quietly.
Giovanni squeezed my hand. "You'll see, there will be a ton of journalist job opportunities in the U.S. Plus, you can bring an interesting angle to it, having come from China."
"You have a point," I said thoughtfully.
While I was sitting there feeling doom and gloom about my situation, wondering if Giovanni was going to let me travel as much as I wanted to, Giovanni had been dealing with hard facts, thinking through every possible scenario, finding out how it can work.
It was nice of him. He didn’t have to do that.
"Okay," I said, summarizing. "So, the deal is I keep my mouth shut, you explain it to your mom and sister, we get married and then... What next? I know you said you want us to live together, but I'm still not 100% on that."
Giovanni withdrew his hands, grimacing. "How do you expect it to be believable that we're married if we don't live together?"
"L.A.T. couples?" I tried.
"Late couples?" Giovanni asked, now the one who was confused.
"No, L.A.T. It means living apart together. Couples who are married, love each other, want monogamy, but don't want to, or can’t, live together," I said.
Giovanni's face remained unaffected. "You clearly don't know very much about Italian families," he said. "If there's one thing they love, it's tradition. They're already going to hate that we're doing a wedding without all the bells and whistles. We’re essentially eloping, denying all 400 of our family members the chance to witness our ceremony. If I can try and get them to forgive that..." He shook his head.
"Fine," I said. "We can see. Maybe could we have an arrangement where I get my own room or something."
I didn't exactly like the idea of sharing a place. Then again, I could think of it as being like having a roommate, maybe.
"That could be arranged," Giovanni said. "I have quite a few resources at my disposal. Speaking of," he continued. "As for the job, I do have some connections, if you'd like..."
I cut him off there.
"Thank you," I said. "I appreciate it, but I'd like to try and get my own job. Now, if no one will hire me and things are looking grim, then sure. But for now, when we get to the U.S., I want to see what I can get myself."
Giovanni studied me as if I was an abstract painting he was trying to understand. After a while, a smile quirked on his lips. "Independent. I like it."
I caught his eyes as a challenge. "You might not."
Under the table, I could feel his leg pressed against mine. "We'll see about that."
I swallowed.
That was it for business, then, so did that mean it was time for... Pleasure?
"I almost forgot," I said. "After all of that, I didn't even ask how you are."
I felt like such a jerk. I'd once dated a guy who was like that. Who could talk and talk about himself, his love of the NBA, the Raptors, how he was going to grow up and own a farm, just like his dad did, and how he was going to go back to the states as soon as he could, or Toronto. He also complained about the quality of the food. Anything but ask a question about me, how I was doing, what I wanted, or if I'd even enjoyed the crappy restaurant we'd ended up at in the first place.
Giovanni just looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"I'm fine."
The next words exited my mouth before I could stop them. "You don't look it."
His gaze shot up to mine. What did it matter if he looked like it or not? This was a fake marriage, not a real one. I didn't have a right to pry into his personal life.
Giovanni just tilted his head to the side as he sipped his water. "You're right. I'm not. I hoped to avoid this by going to see my brother, but it didn't go well."
"To avoid this," I repeated slowly to ensure I'd heard him correctly.
After his profusive convincing and certainty, had Giovanni really been about to throw me under the bus? To just leave me here, high and dry?
"It's not what you think," he said quickly, as if reading my mind. "I would have still married you in order to get you out of China. But as for staying and living together, the charade... Part of me had hoped to avoid that. So, I went to see my brother."
"He's in China?" I asked, confused. As far as I could remember, Giovanni had said his younger brother hadn't joined in on their family vacation.
"Yes," Giovanni said. "To my surprise, he actually was. He'd come along with some friends, one of which was reliable enough to return my calls and let me know how he was doing. Turns out, he'd had a change of heart and had planned to meet up with us at some point during his trip. Of course, it never happened like that. And the state I found him in..." He shook his head.
I didn't know what to say. Again, I didn't want to pry. And I didn't have much experience with troubled siblings, either.
"He wasn't drunk," Giovanni admitted. "Which was a nice change. I don't even think he had any drugs in his system, either. But the bitterness..." His whole face contorted. "He basically told me to go screw myself, and the company, too. I can't have that. My mom, my sister, they're relying on that to live. That's where I work, that's everything my father built, just to be lost on..."
"Then why did your father leave it to your brother, if he knew all of that could happen?"
Giovanni's smile was grim. "Because Papa knew that I would never let it get to that. I would rather marry than have my family suffer in that way."
"Isn't that really selfish though?" I asked.
Giovanni finally put down his water, his gaze abstracted. "Of course it is, us Bruno men are selfish."
He turned his gaze to me just as my phone began to buzz. I snuck a glance at the text. It was Jen: HE'S A FUCKING GOD. GOOGLE HIM.
I stifled a chuckle.
Giovanni's head was swiveling around, his frown full of disappointment. "Our drinks still aren't here; I'll be right back."
As he rose, I did too. "Me, too. I have to use the washroom."
Giovanni gave me a nod before beelining his way to the bar.
In the bathroom, I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror. Hair—crazy as ever. Makeup—a bit smeared, but nothing worth fixing. Then, I Googled Giovanni.
Giovanni Bruno brought up several thousand results and a myriad of pictures.
The Bruno family had been busy over the last 50 years. They were philanthropists who donated a lot of money to children, art, and the environment. Giovanni even personally supported several art shows, and there were pictures of him posing in front of some paintings. Were those paintings he had done? I put the phone closer to my face to take a closer look, just as a well-dressed woman walked in. She stared at me for a minute before ducking into a stall. Yep, she thought I was weird. Oh well. I was used to that.
It was time for me to go. I now knew that no matter how crazy it seemed, no matter how little I wanted to trust the situation, Giovanni was the real deal: a verified, gorgeous millionaire.
Back at our table, Giovanni's face was set to a businesslike impassivity.
"We never confirmed whether or not you're completely on board," he pointed out before I'd even had a chance to sit. "Are you?"
I indicated the red liquid in my glass and noted the delicious scent of the drink that had now been placed at my spot at the table. "Do I still get to have this if not?"
Giovanni smirked. "No."
I sat down, took a long sip and, only when it was empty, did I look back at him. "Nah."
Giovanni's hand grabbed mine. "You're not a very good liar, you know." His smile was challenging.
"Neither are you
," I shot back.
"You're right," he said simply, his gaze straying to my lips. "I'm good at a lot of other things, though."
Warm recognition flashed between my legs. Oh yes, that he was.
I may not know what was in store… But this night was going to be interesting.
We made it through one drink and one salad appetizer when the call came in. Giovanni's mother was sick and needed him urgently.
Giovanni's face was one part nervous and two parts angry.
"What's the matter?" I asked. I understood that he would be worried about his mother being sick, but angry?
"It's my brother," he said. "He somehow figured out where they were and showed up without warning. They, of course, tried to reason with him, but he went off on a crazy rant then stormed off even angrier. I don't know why he even went there in the first place. I have no idea what goes through my brother's head anymore."
Standing up, his hands tightened around the edges of the tabletop. "I intended for tonight to be a..."
His gaze strayed to my cleavage before he quickly ripped it away. "I'm sorry." He exhaled as he got his phone. "Although I do have one piece of good news for us. I booked the airline tickets a few minutes ago. They've already gone through; we'll be leaving tomorrow morning."
"Whoa," I said. "That’s fast… You weren't going to ask if that works for me?"
"This is me asking you," he said coolly. "You can text me if that doesn't work and I can change them, but right now, I have to go."
He strode off a few paces and exhaled again. "And thank you. You'll see, this can be a mutually beneficial arrangement."
As he walked away, a sneer spread across my face. Mutually beneficial arrangement? Man, Giovanni really was treating this like a business transaction.
Now it was my turn to exhale, sip the rest of my drink, and stand up. I could see Giovanni paying the tab at the bar, so I could leave whenever I wanted to.
It was important that I treated this like that, too. Sure, the sex had been good, but I couldn't lose my head over this. This was a business arrangement, that was all.
Playing Pretend Box Set Page 22
