His immediate thought was to go to Carla, but at this late hour, he suspected she’d be sleeping. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her up. She was already upset with him. He didn’t want to make it worse.
As it was, he barely slept that night. It only took one phone call to destroy the trust that he’d built up with Carla. He wanted to believe it was their working relationship he was worried about, but he wasn’t that good of a liar. He liked Carla a lot. She was easy to be around. And he could talk to her like no one he’d ever known. She listened to him and didn’t try to force him to do this or that. Quite frankly, he’d really miss her if she were to disappear from his life.
He halted his thoughts. Had he really just admitted that? Even if it was just to himself, it was wrong. He couldn’t let himself get attached to Carla. He refused to let her or anyone get that close, because he knew what it felt like when the people in his life walked away.
He’d intended to clear things up with her first thing in the morning, but she’d slipped out the door while he was in the shower. This couldn’t wait, so he headed straight to her office. He needed her to understand that he took this arrangement as seriously as she did.
He arrived at Carla’s office just after nine. He didn’t wait for Carla’s assistant to announce him. “I have to speak with my wife.”
He opened the door and barged into Carla’s office, not caring who was in there.
Carla’s widened gaze met his, and then her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
He closed the door behind him. “We have to talk.”
“No, we don’t. You just need to make sure your girlfriend knows to stay away from you.”
In that moment, he realized what was going on. Carla wasn’t particularly worried about how Rose might affect their business arrangement. No, this was much more personal. Carla was jealous. A warm spot started in his chest and then spread outward. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought of his wife being jealous over him.
Then it dawned on him how dangerous this all could be. Because if Carla took this marriage too seriously, it would mean she would be hurt when it ended. And it would end. He just didn’t want her getting hurt.
“Rose has never been my girlfriend. The only one who thought that was her.”
Carla’s mouth gaped slightly. She promptly pressed her lips together. “She must have had a reason to think those things.”
He vehemently shook his head. “Not from me.” He didn’t want to get into all this, but Carla had right to know since she was his, um...wife. And so he told her how Rose had claimed to be pregnant so he would marry her.
“That’s awful. Who does such a thing?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. But I never want to go through something like that again.”
“I don’t blame you. No one should ever lie about something so important.”
“Not only that, but I’m not planning on having kids.”
Her gaze searched his. “Do you mean now? Or ever?”
“Never.”
Carla stood and moved around her desk, pausing just in front of it. There was quite a length between them. “So where has Rose been all this time?”
Franco approached her, stopping just in front of her. His gaze searched hers, willing her to believe him. “She’s been out of the country for work. She just got back. But don’t worry, I told her I was happily married.”
A warmth returned to her eyes. “You did?”
“I did. Isn’t that part of our agreement? Putting on a happy front for everyone?” He needed to remind both of them that this marriage wasn’t real.
Carla blinked, and it was though a wall had gone up between them. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
And suddenly he regretted his words. He slid his hands around her waist. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. I’m getting used to being your pretend husband. It has a lot of benefits.”
And then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It had been a spontaneous action. He should have thought it through. He was just about to pull away when her hands slid over his shoulders. They wrapped around his neck as she deepened the kiss. It would appear he was back in her good graces—her very good graces.
He’d always heard his married friends say that the fun of fighting with their wife was the making up. He never really understood what they’d meant until now. But this was definitely worth a restless night, because kissing Carla had never been better—
She jerked back and frowned at him. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? What are you doing? Because that kiss went both ways.”
She stared at him, but he wasn’t able to read her thoughts.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in,” Carla called out.
“Excuse me.” Rosa’s tentative gaze moved between them. I thought you’d want to know that your nine thirty appointment is on their way up.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Then Carla, looking like a no-nonsense professional, turned to him. “This is important.”
He was being dismissed. He was a Marchello. People didn’t dismiss him. But as his wife turned her back to him, he realized she wasn’t like other people. So be it.
He turned and stormed out the door without another word. He’d thought she’d wanted him, but obviously he’d been wrong. He’d be sure to keep his distance going forward.
But once he was outside in the fresh air, he cooled down. She’d stung his pride, nothing more. Because in the end, she was right. It’s better to keep things professional between them. He was foolish to think he could enjoy the benefits of their arrangement without emotional entanglements. After all, sex with Carla was never purely physical for him. It was so much more.
CHAPTER TEN
THEIR FIRST MEETING.
Their first official meeting as Mr. and Mrs. Marchello.
During the week following their wedding, they’d worked hard to bring their respective staffs on board with their ambitious plans for this venture. And to Carla’s relief, the news was mostly met with enthusiasm. There were some of the old guard that were not enthused, as they’d been swayed by her father’s derogatory comments about the Marchellos. But she was working hard to convince them to embrace this mutually beneficial partnership.
When she looked across the conference room table at Franco, she tried to see him purely as a business associate, but that was impossible as their steamy wedding night and the subsequent kisses were always at the edge of her thoughts. And that was making it really hard to focus on the task at hand—breathing new life into the Falco restaurants.
At one time her family’s restaurants had been the place to be. Lines of people would form out the door as they waited for a table. Now business was steady, but it wasn’t impressive. People didn’t stand out on the sidewalks for an hour wait because they just couldn’t live without a bowl of Falco pasta or their signature salads with house dressing or their fresh-baked bread with the flaky crust.
Her father had been so focused on expanding the chain that he hadn’t slowed down to refresh the menu or update the original restaurants. She’d strongly urged him to reinvest in their current properties, but he was always talking about expanding the business.
Now at last she had a chance to implement her own plans. And her new husband was a part of that plan. She glanced over at him as he spread out his papers and set up his laptop.
“I’ve given your spices some thought,” she said.
“I’m thinking that some special blends should be placed in the middle of the table in a caddy.”
“How many spices were you thinking would be Marchello brand?”
“All of them.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I said we’d work together, but I didn’t say you were taking over.”
For a while they haggled back and f
orth. She remembered her father’s warning about not trusting a Marchello. She’d made that mistake on their wedding night, thinking that possibly there could be something more to their arrangement than business, but she had obviously been mistaken. But it wasn’t the first time she’d been wrong about a man. Her thoughts strayed back to her two-timing ex-fiancé, Matteo.
Her back teeth ground together. She shoved the troubling memories to the back of her mind. She had to stay focused on their business arrangement.
Franco wasn’t interested in her. He’d made that abundantly clear on the car ride home...erm, to his place. But then there had been that kiss in her office. What was up with that?
She didn’t know the answer. He confused her, and that was another reason not to get too comfortable in this new living arrangement. Everything was only temporary, except for the business. And she had to be extra careful that Franco didn’t take over.
Franco expelled a frustrated sigh, crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what you want from me. You keep rejecting my suggestions.”
“Because they are—” She hesitated as she searched for the right word. She wanted something less bold but maybe she just needed to be up front about it all. “Well, it’s boring.”
“Boring?” When she nodded, he said, “I don’t hear you coming up with any better ideas.”
“I’ve been giving it some thought.”
“And the only way for patrons to become familiar with our spices is to have them in front of them and to try them on their food.”
“I think that’s one way.” Her phone buzzed with a new message from her assistant, wanting to know if she should order them lunch in. Carla responded that it was good idea.
“Okay. Keep going. What else do you have in mind?”
She thought he was agitated with her, but when she glanced up, she noticed interest reflected in his eyes. “I’ve done some brainstorming.”
He leaned forward. “Let me see what you have come up with.”
She closed her laptop. “I don’t think so.”
He frowned at her. “I thought this was a partnership, one where we shared everything including the good and the bad.”
“But this is just some brainstorming. A list of ideas.”
“Good.” He reached for her laptop. “Maybe something on your list will help us.”
She slid the laptop out of his reach. “I don’t think you understand. This is a stream-of-consciousness technique that I’ve learned to do. It’s just whatever popped into my mind at the moment.” And she would feel too exposed if he were to read it.
He sighed and then he leaned toward her, resting his elbows on the table. “If we’re going to work together, we have to be able to trust each other.”
Her gaze met his. “I’ve been told to be wary of Marchellos.”
“And yet you married one.”
She opened her mouth and then promptly closed it without uttering a word. He was right. She just had to put her father’s negativity and predictions of doom and gloom out her mind. He didn’t know Franco like she knew him. He was an honorable man, who cared about his family and his family’s business. Franco might not have any allegiance to her, but if he wanted his business to succeed, he needed her business to succeed.
With a resigned sigh, Carla opened her laptop and slid it across the table to him.
“Are you sure?” His gaze searched hers.
When she nodded, he pulled the laptop closer and his gaze perused her ideas—some were totally outlandish, others were too basic but hopefully there would be something in there that they could build upon, because time was ticking.
“I like this one,” Franco said.
Since she couldn’t see what he was pointing at, she asked, “Which one?”
He glanced up at her and gave her a sheepish grin that made her stomach dip. “Sorry. I forgot that you aren’t looking at the screen with me. Why don’t you move over here next to me?”
She wasn’t so sure that switching her seat was such a good idea. There was something reassuring about having a big wood table between them. There was little chance of their fingers touching or their bodies brushing up against each other. It kept the match of desire from being struck and passion from flaming up and destroying this productive business relationship that they were struggling to form.
But it wasn’t like they were conducting some heated affair. Sure, their wedding night was nice, but it wasn’t anything spectacular—oh, who was she kidding? No one had ever kissed her quite the way Franco had done. When she was in his arms, she felt as though she were the only woman in the world.
Still, if she didn’t move next to him, it was like admitting that his nearness got to her—that he had some sort of power over her. She glanced over at him as he continued to study her list. Her pulse raced as she took in his handsome face with his dark eyes, smooth skin and strong jawline. She was kidding herself, because nothing could be further from the truth. He did get to her. She just had to learn to ignore her body’s heady response to him.
Against her better judgment, she stood. She moved around to the other side of the table and sat down next to him. She made sure to leave a respectable distance between them.
Franco pointed to the screen. “I think the first two are a bit out of our reach, and we don’t really have the time to do something so involved.”
“I... I agree.”
“But this third one about incorporating the spices into your menu is a great idea.”
“You like it?” The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them.
“Actually, I have our kitchen working on some new recipes that I was planning to use for promotional purposes, but if you’d like to use them in your kitchens, I think we could work something out.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. We provide very traditional fare.”
“I understand. Not all the recipes would work, but I think others could be modified so they would fit in with what your restaurants offer.” He turned to her. “Would you be willing to give it a try?”
This would be the first thing they agreed on. She rolled the idea around in her mind. Besides the fresh paint, new decor and all new linens, perhaps the menu could use a bit of a facelift.
But she wasn’t ready to let Franco see just how much the idea appealed to her. “I’ll consider it, but I’d like to sample what you have in mind before I allow our kitchens to start working together.”
He smiled and nodded. “I expected nothing less.”
“Instead of just plain, solitary spices, what if we make some blends specifically for the restaurants?”
He nodded. “I like the idea.”
She struggled not to show the surprise about him freely admitting that he liked her idea. Maybe this partnership didn’t have to be so constrained. Maybe it would be all right to let her guard down a little with him.
The thought brought a smile to her lips. She had a feeling they could do great things together. And in the end, it would benefit both of them—um, their businesses, of course.
“With all the work we’ve already done independently, we’re really ahead of the game,” she said as her gaze scrolled down over her checklist.
“I agree,” Franco said. “That’s why I’d like to propose we roll out this promotion in stages.”
“Stages?”
He nodded. “I know we have six months in which to make this plan a reality, but wouldn’t it be more impressive to reveal our plans ahead of time and grow the anticipation?”
Carla leaned back in her chair while twirling a pen. What Franco was suggesting was so ambitious. They’d have to push themselves and their staff harder than they’d ever worked before. But was it possible?
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
Franco reached into a black leather-bound binder and pulled ou
t a stapled set of papers. He placed them in front of her. “I propose we launch this venture in six weeks’ time—”
“Six weeks?” She shook her head. “I’ll never get everything done in time. I’m giving all our original restaurants a facelift. This timeline isn’t possible in that short amount of time.”
“Okay. But what if you were to complete one facelift—say, the flagship restaurant? Would that be doable?”
She gave it some thought. “I think so.”
“Good. We can send in some photographers to document the facelift. It can be used in the campaign. Maybe something like...‘we’re spicing things up with Marchello Spices and a new look, but we’re keeping the same dishes you’ve come to love generation after generation.’”
Carla grabbed her pen and immediately began writing.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing it down before I forget. It’s really good. Maybe you’re in the wrong line of work. If you ever want a second career, you might want to consider advertising.”
Franco let out a deep laugh. He was so handsome normally, but when the worry lines smoothed, he was the dreamiest. And he was so close—close enough to lean over and kiss.
His phone rang and he answered it before she could put her thoughts into action. She told herself that it was for the best—but it didn’t feel like it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEIR PLAN WAS coming together.
Two weeks into their venture, and the basic structure of their PR campaign was in place. Part of Carla was exhilarated that her first major endeavor as the CEO of Falco Fresco Ristorantes was moving along so smoothly. But the other part of her knew that the sooner this deal came to its conclusion, the sooner Franco would disappear from her life.
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