by Tami Lund
Marco stared at her. She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Makes total sense to me. I don’t want to go live with Aunt Patricia either, so whatever you have to do, I’m game.”
This kid. Sometimes he felt like she was the oldest child and he was constantly struggling to keep up.
He popped the last bite of his own sandwich into his mouth and said, “Well, I guess I’ll go get dressed. And then it’s showtime.”
Chapter Eight
Thank God Julia chattered away nonstop all the way to school. It was less than a ten-minute drive, but it felt more like ten hours to Hillary. She’d never been so nervous in her life, and for what?
She was about to pretend to be Marco’s fiancée for the benefit of a bunch of people she didn’t know and would never see again once this farce was over. So what was the big deal?
It was a very big deal. First and foremost, they needed to be believable so that Aunt Patricia would realize she had no real chance of sweeping in and stealing Julia away from the only family she’s ever known.
On top of that, there was that whole sensation that this could become real, if she let it. Well, maybe not entirely real. Marco was as emotionally closed off as a person could get, so no, she did not believe for one hot second that he would ever be open to turning this game of pretend into a real relationship.
But she was confident that he’d be willing to take this game to the next level physically.
And she was equally confident that she wanted to.
Which was a problem, of course. Hillary had never been good at separating sex and emotions. If she and Marco slept together, she was afraid she would not be able to carry on this charade. She was all too aware that it was exactly that to him, while she was likely to get reality and pretend all tangled up in her head.
“I’ve never talked to any of them before,” Marco said abruptly as they made their way from the parking lot to the main entrance. Students of all shapes and sizes flowed around them, laughing, chattering, giggling, shouting.
“What do you mean?” Hillary asked, but before he could respond, someone squealed and then Julia was surrounded by a cluster of girls who all looked to be around her age.
“Julia, you’re back!”
“Julia, hug me!”
“My mom told me not to talk about your parents but ohmigod!”
Marco tensed next to her, and Hillary twined her fingers with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. One of the girls noticed and gave her a speculative look but said nothing.
“Hey, can I go in with them?” Julia asked.
“You okay?” Marco responded.
She shrugged and swung one arm around the nearest girl. “As okay as I can be.”
He grabbed her and pulled her into a bear hug and then set her free to go off with her friends. As they moved away, Hillary heard one of them say, “Who is that?”
Another said, “Her brother, dumbass. More importantly, who is the smokin’ hot redhead with him?”
The compliment from a twelve-year-old girl made Hillary bite back a chuckle. If Julia perpetuated the lie with her friends, no doubt the entire population of parents to seventh graders would be aware of her and Marco’s fake status by dinnertime.
This was it. It was officially real. Well, officially public. Definitely a better way to look at it.
“Come on,” Marco said, nodding at the entrance. “We should probably check in with the office, let them know she’s back and to keep an eye on her.”
“What did you mean when you said you’ve never talked to them before?” Hillary asked as they began moving toward the building.
“I’ve been to a few of her special assemblies and the play she was in last spring. And she’s a good student, so she’s always getting honored at the end-of-year award ceremonies. But I’ve never actually talked to anyone. I just kind of showed up, hung with her and my parents, and left again.”
Hillary nodded. “So you don’t know her teachers or the office staff.”
He shook his head.
“Maybe that will play in our favor. If they know nothing about you, they won’t even blink an eye at the fact that you’re now…” She swallowed. Why was it so hard to say the word?
“Engaged?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah.”
A bell rang, and the rush of students moving from one place to another intensified. Hillary and Marco stepped into a small vestibule and immediately pushed through a door to the right, which led to the front office, while the kids all clamored through another set of doors that presumably would take them to their first-hour classes.
A white-haired woman with rosy cheeks and chunky earrings sat at a desk facing them, and her eyes went huge when they landed on Marco. Hillary recognized her from the funeral. She had been sitting near the back of the church, openly weeping.
She leaped from her seat and rushed to open the door in front of them, pulled Marco into her arms. The look of bewilderment on his face was comical, and Hillary pretended to cough to cover her laughter.
“I’m so sorry for the loss of your parents,” she said. “How are you and your sister? Where is Julia? How is she holding up?”
Marco disentangled himself from her arms and said, “Thank you. We’re fine. She’s fine. Today is her first day back. I just wanted to check in, let you all know…”
“Of course, of course,” the older woman said solemnly. “We appreciate that. The day we found out, the principal arranged to have a counselor stationed here at the school. If Julia needs anything at all, we’re all here for her. And you, of course. Your entire family.”
Poor Marco, he looked so utterly uncomfortable with this overly affectionate display. Hillary stepped up and thrust her hand at the lady. “Hi there, I’m Hillary Karney. Marco’s fiancée.”
The woman’s gaze went from sympathetic to calculated in an instant. She slid her hand into Hillary’s and pumped before clasping the other one around it and squeezing. “I’m Mrs. Morgan. So very nice to meet you, Hillary. I had no idea…”
Hillary was certain she let her sentence trail off because she was hoping they’d add more information, which was a slight problem because they hadn’t actually devised a backstory. They probably needed to rectify that situation sooner than later.
“Although I do recall seeing you at the funeral,” Mrs. Morgan continued. “And I thought you looked awfully chummy.”
She beamed like she was proud of them, while Hillary tried to figure out when she and Marco had appeared chummy.
Hillary offered the woman a blinding smile and then lied through her teeth. “Chummy doesn’t even begin to explain it. In fact, we’re discussing moving up the wedding date. I can’t wait until we are one big happy family.”
She could feel Marco’s gaze boring into her. She refused to look at him, lest he throw off her momentum and she do something that might give away their charade. This was his idea, after all. If she wasn’t doing it right, it was his own damn fault for not spelling out all the ground rules ahead of time.
Mrs. Morgan nodded. “I wondered if you would take custody of Julia. I know she has a huge family network, but you are her brother, after all. Although your aunt is a lovely woman, Julia absolutely adores you and—”
“My aunt?” Marco interrupted.
Mrs. Morgan nodded again. “Yes, um, Patricia. Patricia Romano. Your father’s sister, she told me.”
Marco’s entire body went stiff, and his face flooded with color while his eyes narrowed. Mrs. Morgan took a hesitant step away.
Hillary moved closer to him, angling her body, inserting herself between them. Not that she was worried he actually would attack the elderly woman, but Hillary needed to defuse the situation. That sort of rumor would spread as fast as their fake engagement and definitely would not help their case.
“Sorry.” Hillary apologized to Mrs. Morgan as she rested her palm on Marco’s chest. She could feel his heart beating a rapid staccato underneath her hand. She curled her fingers, as if that would
somehow give him extra reassurance. “It’s just that Marco is very protective of Julia, obviously. He worries that any change to her routine will only make her grief worse.”
Mrs. Morgan nodded like she had firsthand knowledge of this type of situation. “I completely agree. I said as much, too, when your aunt mentioned she intended to move out of state if she took custody of Julia. We’d hate to lose her. We’re like a little family here, and she’s such a wonderful student.”
Uh-oh. While Hillary appreciated the woman so willingly sharing this information, she needed to get Marco out of this office, pronto. His fury was like a living, breathing thing, and she could practically picture him as a dragon, shooting flames out of his mouth and burning this whole place to the ground.
Stepping more firmly in front of him, she said, “It was so nice to meet you, Mrs. Morgan. We so appreciate you and the rest of the faculty and staff here taking Julia under your wings. Here”—she grabbed a scrap piece of paper from the counter and wrote down her name and cell number—“Give me a call or text if you feel Julia needs something or if Patricia or any other family member happens to stop by. We just want to make sure we are aware of her entire environment. You understand, of course.”
Mrs. Morgan accepted the paper while Hillary steadily moved backward, forcing Marco to go with her.
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Morgan said, pressing the note to her chest. “Thank you for entrusting her to us.”
Hillary waved and then turned around and pushed Marco out the door. “Go, go, go,” she said when he didn’t move fast enough.
They practically speed walked to his truck. He stepped up to the passenger side door, but then he clutched the keys in his hand and swore viciously before whirling around to face Hillary.
“She came here to Julia’s school.”
Seemingly benign words, but Hillary understood. “I know.”
He began pacing the length of the truck, clearly trying to burn off his fury. “Actually told them she was going to take custody.”
“Well, to be fair, Mrs. Morgan said ‘if’ she takes custody.”
He continued pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists. The anger radiating off him was not diffusing. They needed to get out of this parking lot before someone noticed him, yet Hillary wasn’t sure she trusted him to drive at the moment.
“Do you want me to—?”
He stopped in front of her. “Yes.” And then he cupped her cheeks and without warning, pressed his lips to hers. He dove his hands into her hair, tangling his fingers, tugging on the strands while canting her head before his tongue brushed against her lips. She gasped, and he thrust his tongue into her mouth.
She wrapped her arms around his back and clutched at his T-shirt as if her legs might collapse if she let go. Which, frankly, was entirely possible.
She’d never been kissed like this before. It was aggressive, feral, no holds barred…and so damn hot, she was half afraid she was going to burst into flames.
She didn’t stop it, didn’t try to pull away. She pressed against him, taking it all in, reveling in every stroke of his tongue, every tingle between her legs, the hardness she could feel brushing against her belly.
Gradually, the kiss shifted from hard and fast to slow and easy. He nibbled at her bottom lip and then trailed kisses along her cheek to her ear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his breath fluttering her hair. “I think I’m okay now.”
He pulled away, and without looking her in the eye, opened the door and motioned for her to climb into the truck. He still didn’t look at her when he slid in next to her and cranked the engine. The atmosphere no longer vibrated with fury.
“Did you just kiss me to alleviate your frustrations with this situation?” she blurted.
He kept his gaze straight ahead, although she saw the slight lift of his lips. “I kissed you to diffuse the anger so I wouldn’t do something stupid. So now, instead of angry, I’m just frustrated.”
“I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do. I’m not frustrated over the situation with Julia. I’m frustrated because I want a hell of a lot more than just a kiss from you.”
“Oh.”
What the heck was she supposed to say to that?
Chapter Nine
He should be sorry he kissed her. He shouldn’t use her like that.
But he wasn’t.
Not only was Hillary putting her own life on hold to help him win custody of Julia; she was keeping him grounded, too.
Marco knew he was a hothead, his temper simmering just below the surface at all times. That was why he’d enlisted instead of headed off to college on that soccer scholarship he’d been offered. He’d craved the discipline and also the outlet for his temper. He’d had a rough time of it during bootcamp—he’d pushed the boundaries over and over—yet after he’d graduated, he moved to the next level, the SEAL qualification training program. Only one percent of recruits even passed that program, and he’d freaking excelled.
Because he understood that making smart decisions was 90 percent mental. His parents’ deaths had shaken him, and he wasn’t operating at full mental capacity, but he still had the wherewithal to know when he needed to check himself.
And the fastest way to diffuse his over-the-top anger was to lose himself in Hillary’s soft, sweet, compliant mouth.
Those precious moments in time had swept all thoughts of Patricia out of his head. His entire focus had been on Hillary, on the way she responded to him. Her body had been screaming for more, and, oh, how he’d wanted to give her what she needed.
Not in the school parking lot, though.
So, once his muscles had relaxed and his brain was able to function without seeing red, he ended the kiss.
And he’d fucking thanked her. Christ, had he ever thanked a woman for letting him plunder her damn mouth?
“I was planning to head over to the restaurant,” he said into the post-kiss silence. “I’ll drop you at the house on the way.”
“Your parents’ restaurant? Why are you going there?”
“Well, it’s mine now, so I should probably figure out how to run the place. They have a great manager, so I’m sure everything is fine, but I know running it is a bigger job than I should leave on her shoulders for too long.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” They fell silent again, until she added, “Can I go with you?” She glanced down at herself. “Am I dressed appropriately?”
“Yes, you’re dressed appropriately. It’s a dinner-only place, so no one else will be there at this time of day. If there’s a delivery coming in, Jo—that’s the manager—or one of the kitchen prep staff will be there, but otherwise, the staff doesn’t start coming in until noon or so.”
“I’d like to go with you, if you don’t mind.”
“How come?” He didn’t mind; he was just curious.
“Honestly, I’m tired of the same four walls. I’m usually so busy I’m wishing for downtime, but now that I have it, I’m bored.” She glanced over at him and smiled, and he appreciated her willingness to not make the kiss—or his admission afterward—a big deal.
He patted her knee and then altered his route to head straight to the restaurant instead of the house. “In that case, I’ll put you to work when we get there.”
There was an ancient, rusted pickup truck in the parking lot when they arrived. Marco grinned and hurried around to open Hillary’s door, ushering her toward the kitchen entrance.
When they stepped inside, the final chords of “Take Me With U” by Prince hit him, and he chuckled. Marco’s Dad used to complain about Luigi’s ability to listen to the Purple Rain soundtrack nonstop for, shit, more than thirty years now. Luigi had mourned Prince’s death almost as deeply as he mourned Marco’s parents.
Luigi glanced up from where he was hunched over the stainless steel counter, slicing thin strips of pancetta. “Marco!”
Wiping his hands on his apron, he hurried around the counter to give Marco a hug, then pulled away and gave Hillary
a considering gaze. “Who is this beautiful lady on your arm?”
“Hillary Karney,” Marco introduced her. “She’s Luca’s wife’s sister.”
“Ahhh,” he said, shaking Hillary’s hand, “this is the one who ties you in knots just like your mama used to do to your dad. I was here for their first kiss, you know. God rest their souls.” He made the sign of the cross and kissed his fingers.
Marco shook his head. “I’ve heard that story a thousand times. Don’t need to again.”
“But I’ve never heard it,” Hillary piped up, and Luigi laughed.
“I like this girl already,” he said.
“Of course you do,” Marco retorted. “Are you here this early to receive today’s delivery?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Already done. Receipt’s in the office and food is all stocked. Now, let me tell this gorgeous lady about how your parents met.”
Marco groaned.
Luigi returned to slicing cured meat as he relived the glory days, wrapping his story with, “Pietro was a good guy. Wasn’t messed up in all the mob shit that was all the rage back then. Even though Aida’s brother was pretty heavy into it, that wasn’t what Giuseppe wanted for his girls.”
Marco grimaced. He didn’t like the reminder of the mob connections his family had. Not for himself, but for Hillary, who he knew had a healthy fear of that association. A fear that was well-earned.
“How’s everything been since the funeral?” Marco asked. “No issues?”
Luigi added ricotta, eggs, and parmesan to one of the food processors. Looked like he was making malfatti, probably running it on special tonight. “Business as usual, boss. At least, I assume that’s the case?”
“You mean that I’m taking over the restaurant? Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m gonna rely pretty heavily on you old-timers, though, until I have a full grasp on things.”
“Who you callin’ an old-timer?” Luigi, who’d been working in this kitchen since well before Marco had even been an accident waiting to happen, didn’t even bother looking up from his task, although Marco could see his grin.
