Desiree D’Souza is determined to take Mumbai by storm with her fledgling interior design company. To do so, she needs to nail a pitch for the famous Baron Hotel expansion.
But her plan is seriously threatened when her nemesis, and teenage crush, Jarryd Baron blackmails her.
Jarryd Baron will do anything to restore the Baron family hotels to glory, including blackmailing a woman he despises into being his girlfriend for a week.
But when the week is up and the publicity from dating Desiree has catapulted his Mumbai hotel to the celebrity front pages in Bollywood, he knows he has to make their arrangement more permanent.
But can he allow their fake engagement to become real?
BREATHLESS
IN
BOLLYWOOD
NICOLA MARSH
Copyright © Nicola Marsh 2016
All the characters, names, places and incidents in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names and are used fictitiously. They’re not distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all the incidents in the book are pure invention. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in any form. The text or any part of the publication may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Discover other titles by USA TODAY bestselling & multi-award winning author Nicola Marsh at
http://www.nicolamarsh.com
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Tag Team
CHAPTER ONE
Frugal from necessity, Desiree D’Souza hated wasting money on luxuries like valet parking.
But running late for the most important interview of her life meant she had no choice. She’d pay the guaranteed exorbitant parking fee at Mumbai’s Baron Hotel and deal with the consequences later. Dahl and rice wouldn’t be so bad for dinner, if it hadn’t been her cheap staple meal for the last month.
Her stomach grumbled in protest at the thought of more lentils and she sighed. She had to nail this interview. She just had to. If only to treat her poor digestive system to a better variety.
Darting down Marine Drive faster than was good for her and her old Ford, she spied the imposing exterior of the Baron Hotel. Ten stories. Whitewashed exterior. Wrought iron balconies. Flower boxes overflowing with a riot of magenta and crimson foliage. Elegant. Classy. A grand old dame of Mumbai. Mostly because of the Baron name but she didn’t want to think about that today. Last thing she needed was to be derailed before she’d had a shot at scoring the interior design job for the hotel’s old wing.
And thinking about anything remotely associated with the Baron family was guaranteed to do that.
Cutting off a low-slung sports car earned her loud horn tooting and a rude hand gesture from the turbaned driver, but she pulled into the Baron Hotel’s circular driveway with five minutes to spare.
She’d hand over her keys, grab her portfolio and take the stairs two at a time to the second floor if it meant making the interview on time.
However, her plan hit a snag the moment she stepped out of the car.
Mumbai hotel employees who parked cars were usually wannabe actors hoping for their big showbiz break in Bollywood. But as the guy dressed in simple black pants and white shirt turned, the keys in her hand clattered to the sidewalk.
What the hell was Jarryd Baron doing valet parking cars at a hotel he owned?
Worse, he looked damn good, the whole dark hair, blue eyes, designer stubble thing still working all these years later. Six years later, to be precise. Six years since they’d almost kissed. Six years since her mom had left his dad at the altar, creating the biggest scandal Bollywood had seen in years. Six years in which she’d been trying to recover from the resultant fallout.
Scoring this job would’ve gone some way to putting her life back on track. But with Jarryd staring at her with his signature mix of mistrust and wariness, she saw a lifetime of dahl and rice in front of her.
“What are you doing here?” He frowned, something he did often if the indentations between his brows were any indication.
“Hello to you too,” she said, bending to retrieve her keys. “If you park this baby within a minute, I’ll make sure to leave a tip.”
His eyes narrowed. It did little to diminish the brilliant blue. “Here’s a tip for you. Leave.”
Hating how her heart pounded beneath his intense scrutiny, she shrugged. “Pity your manners haven’t improved.” She made a grand show of glancing at her watch. “Sorry I can’t stand around and chit chat, but I’ve got a…meeting to get to.”
Damn, she’d almost let slip she was here for an interview and that would be disastrous. She had no idea what game the high and mighty Jarryd Baron was playing, but she’d done her research carefully before applying for this job. He should’ve been holed away in Tokyo or Singapore or Hong Kong, taking Asia by storm with his savvy property investment skills. Ensuring he wouldn’t be around when she interviewed.
Though that was shot to hell, with him staring at her like he expected she’d come here to strip the hotel’s toiletry carts.
“A meeting, huh?” His gaze started at the top of her French-rolled hair and travelled south; a slow, leisurely perusal that made her skin prickle. “You’re certainly dressed to impress.”
She’d invested the last of her meager savings on the fitted, knee-length black shift with matching jacket and high-heeled patent pumps. This job meant that much to her she’d happily ditch the dahl for rasam—a thin water based tamarind soup—if it meant waiting for her first pay check from the Baron Group.
When she’d glanced at herself in the mirror at home, she’d thought she looked good. So why did Jarryd’s coolly assessing stare make her feel like she’d stepped out in her lingerie rather than sassy business attire?
“Thanks. Got to go.” She flipped him her keys and almost dove through the glass-door entrance without looking back.
The faster she nailed this interview and escaped Jarryd’s probing stares, the better.
* * *
Jarryd stared at Desiree’s retreating back, shell-shocked.
Though it wasn’t precisely her back he was staring at as she practically ran away in those towering stilettos and he cursed under his breath. Her ass was just as fine as he remembered. Along with the rest of her.
She’d been twenty when he’d last had his hands on her. A momentary lack of judgment six years ago at his father’s engagement party to her mother. She’d been a pretty college student back then, her naivety at odds with her mom’s practiced boldness.
He’d hated Sushma D’Souza; hated what she’d done to his dad more. He’d picked her for a gold-digging fame whore the second they’d met but his dad had fallen hard. They’d been engaged within three months, with the whirlwind wedding scheduled a month after that. Bollywood had been abuzz with excitement for the nuptials of legendary producer Voigt Baron.
Jarryd had been relieved when Sushma had ditched his dad at the altar, relief short-lived when he watched
his dad die inside. Voigt had left the movie business and had let the Baron hotels rot. He’d never recovered from his broken heart. Or the embarrassment. Jarryd preferred the latter explanation, because he couldn’t fathom his street-smart, intelligent father being so emotionally invested in a trumped-up, B-grade actress, floozy.
Whatever the explanation, Jarryd had despised Sushma D’Souza and seeing her daughter Desiree waltz in here like she owned the place really grated.
Just his luck, the first week of taking control of the Baron hotels, he ran into a blast from the past that rattled him more than he cared to admit.
Because seeing Desiree again, seeing the woman she’d become with her shiny ebony hair in an elegant coif, her big brown eyes accentuated by make-up, and her petite frame filled out with eye-catching curves, made him wish they hadn’t stopped at a grope all those years ago.
Annoyed at the direction his thoughts had taken, he flipped her keys in his palm a few times. Over the last seven days since he’d assumed control of the Baron hotels, he’d done different jobs within the Mumbai hotel to gain a feel for areas that needed improving. Today, he’d assigned himself valet parking duties, to ensure that the hotel’s first impressions stood up against competitors.
He’d learned all the tricks of the trade from Ravi, the septuagenarian who’d been parking cars here since the golden years of Bollywood. Including the one spot never to park a car, because of the window washers who worked on the skyscraper next door and deposited grimy water on unsuspecting vehicles below.
For the first time since Desiree’s arrival had disarmed him, Jarryd grinned.
His fingers curled over her keys as he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.
Was he being childish? Hell yeah, but he wanted to see cool, calm and collected Desiree rattled when she returned.
As rattled as he was when he started the engine and realized the soft jasmine fragrance in the car catapulted him back to that fateful evening six years earlier when he’d wanted her with a fierceness that shook his orderly world.
* * *
Desiree made it to the elaborate but faded foyer when she realized she’d left her cell on the console. Like everyone else these days, her entire life was stored on it and she couldn’t afford to have it stolen.
Cursing her stupidity, and hoping the interviewer would be running late, she turned and headed back to the entrance. As her heels clicked on the polished ivory marble inlaid with black swirls, her designer eye couldn’t help but notice how the corners of some tiles were cracked, how the burnished gold railings looked tarnished, how the flower arrangements appeared mundane.
There was so much she could do here to spruce up this gorgeous hotel, a hotel that had once boasted the biggest names in Bollywood as its guests. With a little TLC, and a healthy budget, she could bring it back to life.
But first, she had to get through another confrontation with Jarryd.
Gritting her teeth, she barreled through the front door and stopped. The first thing she noticed was his smug grin. Closely followed by her beloved Ford, covered in filthy water. Water so black that her white car had turned gray.
She jabbed a finger in the direction of her car. “What the hell happened?”
His grin widened. “Sorry. My first day on the job. Guess I parked it in the wrong spot.”
Stunned by his audacity, well aware this was no accident, she glared at him. “I want my car cleaned by the time I’m done with my interview. Got it?”
His smile faded, replaced by grooves of tension bracketing his mouth. “Interview?”
Damn. In her outrage, she’d let slip the one vital piece of information that could jeopardize her chances. For there was nothing surer than if Jarryd discovered why she was here, he’d sabotage her chances at scoring the job regardless if she was the best woman for the job or not.
“I’m late.” Hoping she wouldn’t sprawl in a heap courtesy of her new heels, she half-ran to her car, grabbed her cell, and made it back into the hotel without further talk.
But as she slipped her cell into her bag and tucked her portfolio tighter under her arm, foreboding slithered down her spine.
As part of her research into the Barons’, she’d discovered that Jarryd was a ruthless, calculating businessman. Which meant her slip of the tongue moments ago could cost her.
Big time.
CHAPTER TWO
In under a minute, Jarryd had the information he required.
Desiree D’Souza wasn’t here for a meeting.
She was here for an interview, to be appointed interior designer of the hotel’s old wing.
Like that was going to happen.
After another brief call on his cell, he had Ravi back early from his break and installed front of house, freeing Jarryd to do what had to be done.
Ensure Desiree didn’t come anywhere near his hotel.
One D’Souza woman had caused enough problems for this family. No way in hell would he trust another.
Taking the service lift ensured he arrived at the conference area before her, giving him time to dismiss the HR executive conducting the interviews and ensconce himself behind her desk.
A quick scan of applicants showed him that Desiree was the last interviewee and no one seemed qualified for the job on offer. Unfortunately for HR, once he sent Desiree on her way, they’d need to make another shortlist.
He gave a cursory glance at her resume on the computer screen in front of him. She lived in Andheri. Typical. Trying to immerse herself in a cosmopolitan, trendy environment to further her image as a designer. For there was one thing he’d learned about the D’Souza women, it was all about image.
Her work experience appeared varied: interiors for a few small boutique hotels, some offices, a shopping mall on the outskirts of Mumbai. A solid background but nothing that would wow a major hotel to hire her.
She had some nerve showing up for a job of this magnitude.
Which made him wonder, how had she been shortlisted? The other candidates had loads more experience and were all older. Had she pulled in a favor or used influence to get here?
A knock sounded at the door; only one way to find out.
“Come in,” he called out, relaxing into the chair and deliberately clasping his hands behind his head in nonchalance.
The way she startled when she first caught sight of him was priceless.
“So you want to redesign the hotel’s old wing, huh?” He leaned back further. “This should be good.”
To her credit, she didn’t flee. Instead, she shut the door, strode across to the desk and placed her portfolio and bag on the empty chair next to her before sitting.
“I thought the head of HR was interviewing.”
While her voice didn’t quiver, he saw a telltale shake of her hands before she hid them in her lap.
“Change of plans.” He sat forward. “So tell me. How did someone of your inexperience score an interview?”
She blushed, giving him an answer before she responded.
“My neighbor is friends with a person in HR here. She put in a good word for me.”
“Typical,” he said, annoyed that the flicker of hurt in her eyes made him feel like a judgmental ogre.
If anyone knew how to use contacts in the business world, he did. Making the most of opportunities was admired, not ridiculed, and if it were anyone else sitting across from him he’d be applauding their savviness.
But rather than wilting as he expected, she squared her shoulders and eyeballed him. “Now that I’m here, my work speaks for itself.”
She reached into her portfolio and pulled out an electronic tablet. “You should take a look at the hotel makeovers I’ve done.”
“Boutique hotels,” he said, reluctant to prolong this interview but curious to see her work nonetheless. “Nothing on the same scale as this.”
“It’s only one wing. I’m more than capable of handling it.”
Silently admiring her confidence when his presence here had
obviously thrown her, he took the tablet and swiped his finger across the screen. Repeatedly. Because once he saw her work, he couldn’t look away.
Desiree was talented. Extremely talented. And he’d be a fool not to hire her for this project.
But before he could formulate an excuse to dismiss her regardless, his cell buzzed on the desk and one glance at the screen had him reaching for it.
He’d told his PA to hold all calls. But this wasn’t a call. It was a text. Stating in no uncertain terms that he needed a date ASAP.
Hell.
He’d forgotten all about organizing a date for the week. A ‘girlfriend’ to be by his side during the massive launch event being held at the hotel for the biggest online dating agency in Mumbai.
It was to be the re-launch of the Baron Hotel too, to show Bollywood and beyond that the Baron name was back and this time wouldn’t go away.
A major coup for the Baron Hotel to be hosting an event of this magnitude, it had to go off without a hitch. And that meant having a date to pose alongside him for the inevitable photo opportunities guaranteed to drive him nuts.
At his PA’s constant reminders, he’d already scoured his cell for possibilities and had come up lacking. He hadn’t been in Mumbai in years and the women who were possibilities were either voracious users wanting fame or friends likely to want more.
He’d come up empty.
A subtle clearing of her throat had him glancing up at Desiree and in that moment, he had his answer.
He didn’t like it. Hell, the mere thought made him slip his finger under his collar to loosen it. But with the event due to launch end of this week, he had no choice.
“How badly do you want this job?”
Breathless in Bollywood Page 1
