“We have to get married,” she said.
Liam’s eyes widened. “No. Absolutely not.”
She couldn’t help the pout of her lower lip when he spoke so forcefully. She knew what he meant, but a part of her was instantly offended by his adamancy. “Is being married to me so terrible that you’d rather risk losing the network?”
Liam leaned in and took her face in both his hands. He tenderly kissed her before he spoke. “Not at all. I would be a very lucky man to marry you. For a year or twenty. But I’m not going to do that to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes. I know you’re a true believer. You want a marriage like your parents. I’ve seen your face light up when you talk about them and their relationship. I know that’s not what I’m offering, so I won’t ask you to compromise what you want, even for a year.”
She couldn’t tell him that he was what she wanted. If he thought for a moment that their arrangement had turned into anything more than a business deal, he would never agree to the marriage. He’d chosen her because he thought she could keep all of this in perspective. Knowing the truth would cost ANS everything.
Francesca clasped Liam’s hands and drew them down into her lap. “I’m a big girl, Liam. I know what I’m doing.”
“I can’t ask you to.” His brow furrowed with stress as he visibly fought to find another answer. They both knew there wasn’t one.
“You are the right person to run ANS. No one else can get the network back on top the way you can. Ron Wheeler might as well carve up the company if you’re not running it because the doors will be closed in a few months’ time.” She looked into his weary blue eyes so he would know how sincere she was. “It’s just a year. Once you get your stock, we can go our separate ways.”
“But what about your friends and family? It’s one thing to lie about an engagement that gets broken off. But to actually get married? Can you look your father in the eye and tell him you love me before he walks you down the aisle?”
Francesca swallowed the lump in her throat. She was very close to both her parents. They could read her like a book, and even as a teenager she couldn’t lie to them without getting caught. This would be hard, but she could do it because it was true. Just as long as they didn’t ask if he loved her…
“Yes, I can.”
“What about your town house? You’ll have to move in with me.”
That would sting. Francesca loved her town house. She could hardly imagine living anywhere else. But she saw the potential in Liam’s place. She could make that place her own for a while. “I’ll rent out my town house.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s only fair I cover your expenses to keep it up even while you’re not living there.”
“Don’t you think your aunt would find it odd if the place was left vacant?”
“This is going to sound a little harsh, but if what she says is true, she won’t be around long enough to know what we’re doing. She will probably write the marriage stipulation into the stock agreement, but she can’t dictate what you do with your real estate holdings.”
Francesca wouldn’t put it past her. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who missed anything. “I suppose we can worry about the details later.” She waited a moment as she tried to process everything they’d talked about. “So…is it decided then? We’re getting married this weekend?”
Liam sat back in his seat. He was silent for several long, awkward minutes. Francesca could only sit there and wait to see what he said. “I guess so.”
“You’re going to have to work on your enthusiasm pretty quickly,” she noted. “We’ll have to tell our families tonight so they have enough time to make travel arrangements.”
He nodded, his hands gripping the steering wheel as though someone might rip it away from him. “I’ll have Jessica call Neiman’s again and get you a bridal appointment. Can you call Ariella and Scarlet tomorrow? They did a good job on the engagement party. Maybe they can pull off a miracle of a wedding in three days.”
“I can. They’ll think we’ve lost our minds.”
Liam chuckled bitterly. “We have. Let’s go inside,” he said.
They went into her town house, and Francesca went straight into the kitchen. She needed something to take the edge off and she had a nice merlot that would do the trick. “Wine?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Liam followed her into the kitchen as she poured two large goblets of wine. When she handed him his glass, he looked curiously at her hand for a moment before he accepted it. “Can I see your ring for a minute?”
Francesca frowned, looking at it before slipping it off. “Is something wrong with it?” She hadn’t noticed any missing stones or scratches. She’d tried really hard to take good care of the ring so she could return it to him in good shape when it was over.
“Not exactly.” Liam looked at it for a moment before getting down on one knee on the tile floor.
Francesca’s eyes widened as she watched him drop down. “What are you doing?”
“I asked you to be my fake fiancée. I never asked you to marry me. I thought I should.”
“Liam, that isn’t neces—”
“Francesca,” he interrupted, reaching out to take her hand in his own. “You are a beautiful, caring and passionate woman. I know this isn’t how either of us expected things to turn out. I also know this isn’t what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. But if you will be my bride for the next year, I promise to be the best husband I know how to be. Francesca Orr, will you marry me?”
She underestimated the impact that Liam’s proposal would have on her. It wasn’t real. It lacked all those critical promises of love and devotion for her whole life, but she couldn’t help the rush of tears that came to her eyes. It felt real. She wanted it to be real.
All the emotions that had been building up inside her bubbled out at that moment. Embarrassed, she brought her hand up to cover her mouth and shook her head dismissively. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Just ignore me. It’s been a rough couple of weeks and I think it’s catching up with me.”
“That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for,” he said with a reassuring smile.
Francesca took a deep breath and fanned her eyes. “I’m sorry. Yes, I will marry you.”
Liam took the ring and slipped it back onto her finger. He rose to his feet, still holding her hand in his. His thumb gently brushed over her fingers as he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you.”
Francesca was surprised to see the faint shimmer of tears in his eyes as he thanked her. It wasn’t love, but it was emotion. There was so much riding on this marriage. She had no doubt that he meant what he said. He would be as good a husband as he could be. At least, as good as he could be without actually being in love with his wife.
Liam pulled Francesca into his arms and hugged her fiercely against him. She tucked her head under his chin and gave in to the embrace. It felt good to just be held by the man she loved. As she’d said before, this had been an emotionally exhausting couple of weeks. The next year might prove to be just as big a challenge. But somehow, having Liam hold her made her feel like it just might work out okay.
It felt like he held her forever. When he finally pulled away, they both had their emotions in check and were ready to face whatever the next week might hold for them.
“It’s official then,” he said with a confident smile. “Let’s call your parents.”
Ten
Francesca’s precious retreat was a mess. Her beautiful townhome was in a state of disarray with moving boxes and bubble wrap all over the place.
Liam was maintaining the payments on her town house, so the bigger pieces of furniture she didn’t need could stay, but everything else was going to his place. She’d probably need these things over the next year. This wasn’t some overnight trip or long weekend she was packing for. She was getting ready to move in with the man who would be her husband in a few days’
time.
Her parents had taken it well. At least they’d seemed to. Who knew how long her father had ranted after they hung up the phone. Either way, they were making arrangements to fly to Washington on Thursday afternoon. Liam’s mother was thrilled. She didn’t hesitate to say how excited she was to come and meet Francesca. Liam’s mother and sister were coming Friday morning.
Their story was that they were so in love they didn’t want to wait another minute to be husband and wife. Incredibly romantic or unbelievably stupid, depending on how you looked at it. But no parent wanted their child to elope and miss their big day, no matter what they might think about the situation.
Things were coming together, although it didn’t look like it from where she was sitting.
The doorbell rang and Francesca disentangled herself from a pile of her things to answer the door. She’d asked Ariella to come over for lunch, hoping she and Scarlet could pull off the wedding hat trick of the year.
When she pulled open the door, she found her friend on the doorstep, but Ariella didn’t have the bright smile Francesca was expecting. Her brow was furrowed with concern, her teeth wearing at her bottom lip. She had faint gray circles under her eyes as though she hadn’t slept. And, most uncharacteristic of all, her hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. That wasn’t the Ariella she knew at all.
“Are you okay?”
Ariella’s weary green gaze met hers as she shook her head almost imperceptibly.
Alarmed, Francesca reached for her friend’s hand and pulled her inside. She sat Ariella down on one of the overstuffed living-room chairs that wasn’t buried in packing tape and cardboard. “I’ll make tea,” she said, turning to the kitchen.
“Is it too early for wine?” Ariella called out.
Probably, but if her friend needed wine, she’d serve it with breakfast. “Not at all. Red or white?”
“Yes,” she responded with a chuckle.
At least she was able to laugh. That was a step in the right direction. Francesca quickly poured two glasses of chardonnay, which seemed more of a brunch-appropriate wine, and carried them into the living room with a package of cookies under her arm.
It took several minutes and several sips before Ariella finally opened up. She set the glass on the coffee table and reached into her purse. Pulling out an ivory envelope, she handed it over to Francesca to read the contents.
Francesca quickly scanned over the letter, not quite sure if what she was reading could possibly be true.
“It’s from my birth mother, Eleanor Albert,” Ariella said after a moment, confirming the unbelievable thoughts Francesca was already having.
The letter didn’t give many details. It was short and sweet, basically asking if Ariella would be willing to write her back and possibly meet when she was ready. There was nothing about the circumstances of the adoption, the president or where Eleanor had been the past twenty-five years. Nothing about the letter screamed authenticity aside from a curious address in Ireland where she was to write back.
“When did you get this?”
“It came yesterday afternoon. To my home address, which is private and almost no one knows. Most of my mail goes to the office. I must’ve read it a million times last night. I couldn’t sleep.” Despite her weary expression, there was a touch of excitement in Ariella’s voice. She’d waited so long to find out about her birth mother. Yet she seemed hesitant about uncovering the truth.
Francesca understood. The truth wasn’t always pretty. People didn’t always live up to the fantasy you built up in your mind. Right now, Ariella’s mother was like Schrödinger’s cat. Until she opened that box, Eleanor would remain both the fantasy mother Ariella had always imagined and the selfish, uncaring woman she’d feared. Was it better to fantasize or to know for certain?
Francesca looked at the envelope and shook her head. After everything that had happened in the past few months, she’d grown very suspicious and protective where Ariella was concerned. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if a journalist was posing as her mother to get details for a story. But she hesitated to say it out loud. She didn’t want to be the one to burst the small, tentative bubble building inside her friend.
“Go ahead and say it,” Ariella urged.
Francesca frowned and handed the letter back over to her. “I’m excited for you. I know that not knowing about your birth parents has been like a missing puzzle piece in your life, even before the news about the president hit. This could be a step in the right direction for you. I hope it is. Just be careful about what you say until you’re certain she’s really your mother. And even then, you can’t be sure she won’t go to the press with her story if someone offers her money.”
Ariella nodded, tucking the letter back in her purse. “I thought the same thing. I’m going to respond, but I’m definitely going to proceed with caution. I don’t want to be the victim of a ruthless journalist.”
“I’m sure the letter is real, but it can’t hurt to be careful.”
Ariella reached for her wineglass and then paused to look around the living room. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m packing.”
Ariella’s nose wrinkled as she eyed the boxes stacked around. Her mind must’ve been too wrapped up in the letter to notice the mess before. “You’re moving in with Liam? So soon?” she added.
“Yes.”
“Wow,” she said with a shake of her head. “You two certainly don’t move slowly. Next thing you’ll be telling me you’re getting married next weekend.”
Francesca bit her lip, not quite sure what to say to that.
Ariella’s head snapped toward Francesca, her green eyes wide. “Tell me you’re not getting married in a week and a half. Francesca?”
“We’re not,” she assured her. “We’re getting married Friday.”
Ariella swallowed a large sip of wine before she could spit it out. “It’s Tuesday.”
“I know.”
“What is the rush with you two? Does one of you have an incurable disease?”
“Liam and I are both perfectly healthy.” Francesca wasn’t about to mention his aunt’s incurable disease. That would lead to more questions than she wanted to answer. “We’ve just decided there is no sense in waiting. We’re in love and we want to get married as soon as possible.”
With a sigh, Ariella flopped back into her chair. “Scarlet is going to have a fit. Putting together a wedding in three days will be a nightmare.”
“We have a venue,” Francesca offered. She loved how she didn’t even need to ask her friend if she would do the wedding. It was a foregone conclusion. Francesca wouldn’t dare ask someone else. “The Four Seasons. We’ve reserved the terrace for the ceremony and the ballroom for the reception.”
Ariella nodded, but Francesca knew she was deep in planning mode. “Good. That’s the hardest part with a quick turnaround. We’ll have to use the hotel caterer, so I’ll need to get with them soon about the menu for the reception. Did you guys have anything in mind?”
Francesca was ashamed to admit she didn’t. As a child, she’d always fantasized more about her marriage than her actual wedding. And even if she had dreamed of a princess dress and ten thousand pink roses for the ceremony, none of that seemed appropriate for this. She wanted to save those ideas for her real marriage. One that would last longer than a year.
“We will be happy with whatever you two can pull together on short notice. We don’t have room to be picky.”
Ariella reached into her purse and pulled out her planner. She used her phone for most things, but she’d told Francesca that weddings required paper and pen so she could see all the plans laid out. “Color or flower preferences?”
“Not really. Whatever is in season and readily available. I’m not a big fan of orange, but I could live with it.”
Her friend looked up from her notebook and frowned. “Live with it? Honey, your wedding isn’t supposed to be something you live with no matter how short the notice. Tell me what
you want and I’ll make it happen for you.”
She could tell Ariella wasn’t going to let her off the hook. She would give her friend her dream wedding no matter how much Francesca resisted. She put aside her reservations and closed her eyes. Fake or no, what did she envision for her wedding day with Liam? “Soft and romantic,” she said. “Maybe white or pale-pink roses. Candlelight. Lace. A touch of sparkle.”
Ariella wrote frantically in her book. “Do you like gardenias? They’re in season and smell wonderful. They’d go nicely with the roses. And maybe some hydrangeas and peonies.”
“Okay,” she said, quickly correcting herself when Ariella looked at her with another sharp gaze. “That all sounds beautiful. Thank you.”
“What does your dress look like? It helps sometimes with the cake design.”
Francesca swallowed hard. “My appointment is tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t have a dress,” she said, her tone flat.
She’d been engaged less than two weeks. Why would she have a dress already? “I don’t have anything but a groom and a ballroom, Ariella. That’s why I need you. I will make sure that Liam and I show up appropriately attired. The rest of the details are up to you.”
“Please give me something to work with here. I know you trust me, but I want you to get what you want, too.”
“I’ve got to buy off the rack with no alterations, so I’m not going in with a certain thing in mind because it might not be possible. I’m hoping to find a strapless white gown with lace details. Maybe a little silver or crystal shimmer. I don’t know how that would help with the cake. It doesn’t have to be very complicated in design. I prefer white butter cream to fondant. Maybe a couple flowers. I just want it to taste good.”
“Any preference in flavor?”
“Maybe a white or chocolate chip cake with pastry cream filling, like a cannoli. My mom would love that.”
“I can do that,” Ariella said, a smile finally lighting her face.
A Very Exclusive Engagement Page 11
