by Teri Wilson
Diana had never needed so many gowns, considering thus far she’d spent the better part of her life in riding clothes. But she’d worn nearly every fancy dress she owned over the course of her faux love affair with Franco, and she wanted to make an impression tonight. More than ever before.
The Manhattan Ballet’s annual gala at Lincoln Center was one of the most important social events on the Drake Diamonds calendar. Ophelia had once been a prima ballerina at the company. Since coming to Drake Diamonds, she’d designed an entire ballet-themed jewelry collection. Naturally, the store and the Manhattan Ballet worked closely with each other.
Which meant Artem and Ophelia would be at the gala. So would the press, obviously. Coming right on the heels of the Lamberti diamond announcement, the gala would be a big deal. Huge.
It would also be the first time Diana had seen Franco since The Kiss.
But of course that had nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to look extra spectacular. Then again, maybe it did. A little.
Okay, a lot.
She wanted to torture him. First he’d had the nerve to get upset that she’d asked him to kiss her, and now he’d dropped a puppy in her lap. Who behaved like that?
Lulu let out a little yip and spun in circles, chasing her curlicue tail. The dog was cute. No doubt about it. And Diana didn’t completely hate her tiny, velvet-soft ears and round little belly. If she’d had any interest in adopting a puppy, this one would definitely have been a contender.
But she wasn’t ready to sign on for another heartbreak in the making. Wasn’t her heart in enough jeopardy as it was?
Damn you, Franco.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she said.
Lulu cocked her head, increasing her adorable quotient at least tenfold.
Ugh. “I mean it. You’re not staying.”
One night. That was it. Two, tops.
The doorbell rang, and Lulu scrambled toward the door in a frenzy of high-pitched barks and snorting noises. Somehow, her cuteness remained intact despite the commotion.
“Calm down, you nut.” Diana scooped her up with one hand, and the puppy licked her chin.
Three nights...maybe. Then she was absolutely going back to Franco’s bachelor pad.
“A puppy!” Ophelia grinned from ear to ear when Diana opened the door. “This must the one I read about in the paper.”
Diana sighed. She’d almost forgotten that every detail of her life was now splashed across Page Six. Puppy included. “The one and only.”
“She’s seriously adorable. Franco has good taste in dogs. He can’t be all bad.” Ophelia floated through the front door of Diana’s apartment with a garment bag slung over her shoulder. She might not be a professional ballerina anymore, but she still moved liked one, even with a baby strapped to her chest.
Diana rolled her eyes and returned Lulu to the floor, where she resumed chewing on a rawhide bone that was three times bigger than her own head. “I’m pretty sure even the devil himself can appreciate a cute puppy.”
“The last time I checked, the devil wasn’t into rescuing homeless animals.” Point taken.
Ophelia tossed the garment bags across the arm of the sofa. “Enough about your charming puppy and equally charming faux boyfriend. I’ve come with fashion reinforcements, as you requested.”
“And you brought my niece.” Diana eyed the baby.
There was no denying she was precious. She had Artem’s eyes and Ophelia’s delicate features. Perfect in every way.
Diana just wasn’t one of those women who swooned every time she saw a baby. Probably because she’d never pictured herself as a mother. Not after the nightmare of a marriage her own mother had endured.
“Here, hold her.” Ophelia lifted little Emma out of the baby sling and handed her to Diana.
“Um, okay.” She’d never really held Emma before. She’d oohed and aahed over her. Plenty of times. But other than the occasional, affectionate pat on the head, she hadn’t actually touched her.
She was lighter than Diana had expected. Soft. Warm.
“Wow,” she said as Emma took Diana’s hand in her tiny grip.
“She growing like a weed, isn’t she?” Ophelia beamed at her baby.
Diana studied the tender expression on her face. It wasn’t altogether different from the one she usually wore when she looked at Artem. “You’re completely in love with this baby, aren’t you?”
“It shows?”
“You couldn’t hide it if you tried.” Diana rocked Emma gently from side to side until the baby’s eyes drifted closed.
“It’s crazy. I never pictured myself as a mother.” Ophelia shrugged one of her elegant shoulders.
Diana gaped at her. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I never expected to get married, either. Your brother actually had to talk me into it.” She grinned. “He can be very persuasive.”
“I had no idea. You and Artem are like a dream couple.”
“Things aren’t always how they appear on the outside. But I don’t need to tell you that.” Ophelia gave her a knowing look.
Diana swallowed. “I should probably be an expert on the subject by now.”
“I love your brother, and I adore Emma. I’ve never been so happy.” And it showed. Bliss radiated from her sister-in-law’s pores. “This life just isn’t one I ever imagined for myself.”
Maybe that’s how it always worked. Maybe one day Diana would wake up and magically be ready to slip one of those legendary Drake diamonds onto her ring finger.
Doubtful, considering she was terrified of keeping the puppy currently making herself at home in Diana’s borrowed apartment. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. That’s what sisters are for,” Ophelia said.
“What changed? I mean, I know that sounds like a difficult question...”
Ophelia interrupted her with a shake of her head. “No. It’s not difficult at all. It’s simple, really. Love changed me.”
“Love,” Diana echoed, as the front-page image of herself being kissed within an inch of her life flashed before her eyes.
Please. That wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. It was pretend.
Keep telling yourself that.
“I fell in love, and that changed everything.” Ophelia regarded her for a moment. “I may be way off base here, but do these questions have anything to do with Franco?”
“Hardly.” Diana laughed. A little too loudly.
She couldn’t ignore the truth anymore...she had a serious case of lust for the man. Everyone in New York knew she did. It was literally front-page news.
But she would have to be insane to fall in love with him. She didn’t even like him. When she’d had her accident, she hadn’t hit her head so hard that she lost her memory.
The day after she’d lost her virginity to Franco had been the most humiliating of her life. She’d known what she’d been getting into when she slept with him. Or thought she had, anyway.
She’d been all too aware of his reputation. Franco Andrade was a player. Not just a polo player...a player player. In truth, that was why she’d chosen him. His ridiculous good looks and devastating charm hadn’t hurt, obviously. But mainly she’d wanted to experience sex without any looming expectation of a relationship.
She’d been twenty-two, which was more than old enough to sleep with a man. It hadn’t been the sex that frightened her. It had been the idea of belonging to someone. Someone who would cheat, as her father had done for as long she could remember.
Franco had been the perfect candidate.
She’d expected hot, dirty sex. And she’d gotten it. But he’d also been tender. Unexpectedly sweet. Still, it was her own stupid fault she’d fallen for the fantasy.
She’d rather die than make that mist
ake again.
“Nothing at all? If you say so. There just seems to be a spark between you two,” Ophelia said. “I’m pretty sure it’s visible from outer space.”
Diana handed the baby back to her sister-in-law. “Honestly, you sound like Artem. Did he put you up to this?”
Ophelia held Emma against her chest and rubbed her hand in soothing circles on the back of the baby’s pastel pink onesie. Her brow furrowed. “No, actually. We haven’t even discussed it.”
Diana narrowed her gaze. “Then why are you asking me about Franco?”
“I told you. There’s something special when you’re together.” She grinned. “Magic.”
Like the kind of magic that made people believe in relationships? Marriage? Family? “You’re seeing things. Seriously, Ophelia. You’re looking at the world through love-colored glasses.”
Ophelia laughed. “I don’t think those are a thing.”
“Trust me. They are. And you’re wearing them.” Diana slid closer to the garment bag and pulled it onto her lap. “A big, giant pair.”
Ophelia shook her head, smiled and made cooing noises at the baby. Which pretty much proved Diana’s point.
“By the way, there’s only one dress in there.” Ophelia nodded at the garment bag. “It’s perfect for tonight. You’ll look amazing in it. I was afraid if I brought more options, you wouldn’t have the guts to wear this one. And you really must.”
“Why am I afraid to look at it now?” Diana unzipped the bag and gasped when she got a glimpse of silver lamé fabric so luxurious that it looked like liquid platinum.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it? It belonged to my grandmother. She wore it to a ballet gala herself, back in the 1940s.”
Diana shook her head. “I can’t borrow this. It’s too special.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you can. That’s why I brought it.” Ophelia bit her lip. “Franco is going to die when he sees you in it.”
First Artem. Now Ophelia. When had everyone started believing the hype?
“Not if I kill him first,” she said flatly.
The more she thought about his reaction last night, the angrier she got. How dare he call her out for doing exactly the same thing he’d been doing every night for a week?
Did he think the nicknames, the lingering glances and the way he touched her all the time didn’t get to her? Newsflash: they did.
Sometimes she went home from their evenings together and her body felt so tingly, so alive that she had trouble sleeping. Last night, he’d even shown up in her dreams.
Her head spun a little just thinking about it. “I have no interest in him whatsoever.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.” Ophelia smirked.
A telltale warmth crept into Diana’s cheeks. “I’m serious. I’m not interested in marriage or babies, either. Certainly not with him.”
“I believe you.” Ophelia nodded in mock solemnity.
Even the puppy stopped chewing on her bone to stare at Diana with her buggy little eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that. Both of you. I assure you, it will be a long time before you see an engagement ring on my finger. And if that ever happens, the ring won’t be from Franco Andrade.”
He was about as far from being husband material as she was from being wife material. Diana should know...
She’d spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking it through.
* * *
Dios mío.
A little under twenty-four hours had hardly been enough time to rid Franco of the memory of kissing Diana. But the moment he set eyes on her in her liquid silver dress, everything came flooding back. The taste of her. The feel of her. The sound of her—the catch of her breath in the moment their lips came together, the tremble in her voice when she’d asked him to kiss her.
No amount of willful forgetting would erase those memories. Certainly not while Diana was standing beside him in the lobby of Lincoln Center looking like she’d been dipped in diamonds.
A strand of emerald-cut stones had been interwoven through the satin neckline of her gown and arranged into a glittering bow just off-center from the massive sapphire draped around her neck. She looked almost too perfect to touch.
Which made Franco want to touch her all the more.
“You’re staring,” she said, without a trace of emotion in her voice. But the corner of her lush mouth curved into a grin that smacked of self-satisfaction.
Franco had a mind to kiss her right there on the spot.
He smiled tightly, instead. She hadn’t said a word yet about the puppy stunt, which he found particularly interesting. But she was angry with him. For what, exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. He was beginning to lose track of all the wrongs he’d committed, and tomorrow would be far worse. She just didn’t know it yet.
He cleared his throat. “I can’t seem to look away. Forgive me.”
She shrugged an elegant shoulder. The row of diamonds woven through the bodice of her dress glittered under the chandelier overhead. “You’re forgiven.”
Forgiven.
The word and its myriad of implications hung between them.
He raised a brow. “Am I?”
He knew better than to believe it.
“It’s a figure of speech. Don’t read too much into it.” She shifted her gaze away from him, toward the crowd assembled in the grand opera-house lobby.
Franco slipped an arm around her and led her down the red-carpeted stairs toward the party. He’d been dreading the Manhattan Ballet gala since the moment he’d woken up this morning. He’d lost his head at the Harry Winston party. He couldn’t make a mistake like that again. Not now. Not when there was so much riding on his fake relationship. The Drakes may have gotten what they wanted, but Franco hadn’t.
He would, though.
By tomorrow morning, everything would change.
“Diana, nice to see you. You look beautiful.” Artem greeted his sister with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. When he turned toward Franco, his smile faded. “Franco.”
No handshake. No small talk. Just a sharp look that felt oddly like a warning glare.
“Artem.” Franco reached to shake his hand.
Something felt off, but Franco couldn’t imagine why. Artem Drake should be the happiest man in Manhattan right now. His family business was front-page news. Everywhere Franco turned, people were talking about the Lamberti diamond. A few news outlets had even rechristened it the Lamberti-Drake diamond.
Would the Lambertis have even chosen Drake Diamonds if not for the pretend love affair? Franco wholeheartedly doubted it. The Lambertis had looked awfully comfortable at Harry Winston.
Until the kiss.
The kiss had been the deciding factor. Or so it seemed.
The way Franco saw things, Artem Drake should be high-fiving him right now.
Maybe he was just imagining things. After all, last night had been frustrating on every possible level. Most notably, sexually. Franco still couldn’t think straight. Especially when Diana’s silvery image was reflected back at him from all four walls of the mirrored room. There was simply no escaping it.
“Nice to see you again, Franco,” Ophelia said warmly.
“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here.” He moved to give Ophelia a one-armed hug. Artem’s gaze narrowed, and he tossed back the remainder of the champagne in his glass.
“I’m sure it is,” Artem muttered under his breath.
Franco cast a questioning glance at Diana. He definitely wasn’t imagining things.
“Shall we go get a drink, darling?” she said.
“Yes, let’s.” A drink was definitely in order. Possibly many drinks.
Once they’d taken their place in line at the bar, Franco bent to whisper in Diana’s ear, doing his best n
ot to let his gaze wander to her cleavage, barely covered by a wisp of pale gray chiffon fabric. It would have been a tall order for any man. “Are you planning on telling me what’s troubling your brother? Or do I have to remain in the dark since I’m just a pretend boyfriend?”
Diana’s bottom lip slipped between her teeth, a nervous habit he’d spent far too much time thinking about in recent days. After a pause, she shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” He leaned closer, until his lips grazed the soft place just below her ear. “Because I can. I know you better than you think, Diana. Your body betrays you.”
Her cheeks flared pink. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“I’m sure you will.” He looked pointedly at her mouth. “We both know how good you are at pretending.”
“May I help you?” the bartender asked.
“Two glasses of Dom Pérignon, please,” Franco said without taking his eyes off Diana.
“You’re impossible,” she said through gritted teeth.
“So you’ve told me.” He handed her one of the two saucer-style glasses of champagne the bartender had given him. “Multiple times.”
Her eyes flashed like amethysts on fire. “You’ve had your hands all over me for weeks, and I’m not allowed to be affected by it. But I kiss you once, and you completely lose it. You’re acting like the world’s biggest hypocrite.”
The accusation should have angered him. At the very least, he should have been bothered by the fact that she was one hundred percent right. He was definitely acting like a hypocrite, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
He’d thought the kiss was real. He’d wanted it to be real. He wanted that more than he’d wanted anything in a long, long time.
But he was so shocked by Diana’s startling admission that he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but satisfied at the moment. Satisfied and, admittedly, a little aroused.
“You like it when I touch you,” he stated. It was a fact. She’d said so herself.
“No.” She let out a forced laugh. “Hardly.”
Yes.
