‘Come on, spill,’ she said. ‘It can’t be any more embarrassing than aspiring to be a mermaid.’
He couldn’t help but smile at that. ‘If you insist.’
‘I do insist.’
‘As I told you, even before I turned out to be genetically the wrong fit, I didn’t fit the family mould. I showed no aptitude for the law or banking, the acceptable professions according to my ex-father.’
‘You call him your ex-father?’
‘What else fits? Technically my stepfather, I suppose, but that doesn’t really apply, as he had no say in the matter. My mother tricked him into believing I was his own. I look at it as if he divorced me.’
I’m not your dad. You are nothing to do with me.
‘I guess that’s a valid way of putting it. By the way, he sounds utterly vile. How could you bring a boy up from a baby and then just turf him out? Weren’t you his son in every way but by blood?’
‘I don’t think he particularly cared for me from the start, but he did his duty by me for sixteen years.’
‘As he darn well should have, especially as he thought you were his own child,’ she said indignantly.
He shrugged. ‘Truth was, we never really clicked. I was a disappointment. Not academic. Certainly not a son to boast about at his club. When it came to career advice, he suggested I learn a trade, become an electrician or plumber. He’d say it with a sneer. Not that I thought there was anything wrong at all with learning a trade. I would have willingly done so. But he knew so little of who I was, he had no idea I was already supplementing my allowance by creating apps and trading gaming codes.’
‘Your interests lay elsewhere.’
‘In the burgeoning digital marketplace my conservative family barely acknowledged existed. Forget studying law at Harvard, I was destined to study at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.’ He paused. ‘Until I wasn’t. I was cut off with nothing, certainly no college fund.’
‘The media calls you a self-made billionaire.’
‘I don’t deny the label. There was no one to give me a leg up. I got where I am under my own steam. I took risks, I had setbacks, but I pushed through. And I’m proud of it.’
‘You’ve given your ex-father something to boast about now.’
He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I make very sure he knows what I’ve achieved. My ex-brother too. But neither of them would be boasting about me.’
A year ago, he’d seen his ex-father in the distance at the exclusive yacht club to which they both belonged. Josh was sure he’d seen him too but he’d turned away without acknowledging him. Not as his son, but not as his equal in the rich man’s club. It had still hurt. And further fuelled his anger.
Eloise might think less of him if he admitted to the business deals he’d diverted from his brother, the wealthy clients he’d deflected from his father’s law firm. She’d called him ruthless. She would be shocked if she knew just how ruthless. The power of having a lot of money had facilitated his actions. His fantasy wasn’t of a happy-ever-after family reunion but of his father admitting he was wrong about him. As a teenager he’d been hurt and heartbroken at what his father and brother had done to him. As an adult, no love or respect remained, and he despised them for how they’d treated a kid who’d thought he belonged with them.
The car was stopped at traffic lights and Eloise turned to face him. Her expression was troubled. ‘So when it boils down to it, your success has been fuelled by bitterness and revenge?’
‘You could say that,’ he said. ‘Although it was sheer survival at first.’
‘How good is that for you?’
‘Satisfying in the extreme.’
‘I mean for your health, your spiritual health if you like.’ The lights changed and she faced the road again.
‘I’ve never felt healthier,’ he said, knowing that wasn’t what she meant.
‘For how long does it continue?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to say the wrong thing here but surely your...your ex-father must see by now how wrong he was about you, how you might not have been born to his grand family but you were certainly worthy of it.’
The drive to prove himself had been his focus for so long, Josh didn’t know how to think any other way. But when would enough be enough? ‘I sometimes feel nothing I do would be enough to make him admit he was wrong.’
‘He sounds a horrible man, not worthy of someone as brilliant as you. Why do you continue to seek his approval?’
‘That’s not what I’m doing,’ he said tersely.
But underneath it all, was Eloise right? Was he still making a futile effort to seek the approval of that cold, unfeeling man who had kicked the boyish love he’d given so unstintingly as a child back in his teeth?
‘That kind of negative emotion isn’t good for a person. I know we don’t know each other very well, but it makes me worry for you, Josh,’ Eloise said. ‘It cuts you off from the kinder side of life.’
A cold shiver ran up his spine at her words, the echo of Tori’s. ‘I worry about you, Josh. You’re cutting yourself off from life.’
‘I can look after myself,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ve been doing so for a long time.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ she said, with the resignation of someone who knew she was fighting a losing battle.
‘Chalk that up to being another thing you now know about me,’ he said.
‘It’s actually not something I’d be introducing into the conversation,’ she said. ‘That’s your personal business.’ An air of disapproval lingered for a long time in the car.
With the outskirts of Sydney left behind, the road took them through vast tracts of bushland, the green fields of dairy farms and horse studs, vineyards and turn-offs to historic villages with names like Berrima and Yerrinbool. ‘The names are from the language of the people indigenous to this area,’ Eloise explained.
‘It’s beautiful countryside,’ he said.
‘People drive out here for the day to visit antique shops, art galleries and wineries, inspect beautiful gardens, go horse riding or just to get out to the country. There are hotels and bed and breakfasts for longer stays. And there are some very popular wedding venues. It’s lovely but I wouldn’t want to live here. I’m a city girl myself.’
‘I prefer the city too,’ he said.
‘Wait, I haven’t asked where you live. I should know that.’
‘My apartment is in the Seaport District, a penthouse with awesome views across the harbour. It’s a relatively new area, redeveloped waterfront in South Boston. There are excellent restaurants and facilities and it’s incredibly convenient for the business district and the airport, which makes it great for me.’
‘What’s your apartment like?’
‘Very contemporary, all glass and stainless steel.’ Lonely and empty might be the words he would also use to describe it. But he didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. His life was exactly the way he wanted it to be. ‘I don’t know that you’d like it. It’s nothing like your elegant apartment. I had an interior designer do it for me and I sometimes wonder if she took the “bachelor billionaire” brief too seriously.’
‘I’m sure it’s lovely.’
‘It’s actually quite sterile,’ he said, surprising himself. ‘I don’t know why I live there actually, though it’s already doubled in value. I keep gravitating back to the North End. You may remember it’s a very old part of town.’
‘I haven’t been to Boston since my father died, but I think I remember going there to a restaurant with my grandparents.’
‘When my mother and I were evicted from the big house on Beacon Hill we went to live there with her sister, my Aunt Lily, in her apartment in Little Italy. The apartment was cramped and I had to go to a new high school, but I loved it.’
Eloise nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s good information. If anyone asks I can may
be say we’re thinking of moving to a house there instead of living in your bachelor apartment.’
‘You’d like the area, I’m sure.’
All the best parts of his life were there. His Aunt Lily, who had given him a home. Tori’s family trattoria and his close friendship with her family. Tori’s bakery too; her spectacular cakes were to Boston’s brides what Eloise’s gowns were to Sydney’s brides.
He could be himself there and judged for who he was and not by the size of his bank balance. So very different from the Boston where he had lived the first sixteen years of his life with his judgemental father whom nobody could please, not even his half-brother, who turned himself inside out in the process of trying. Warm, vibrant Eloise would fit right in in the North End. That she had actually been born in Boston would give her a head start. But she was a Sydney person too, with a thriving business she loved. A move there couldn’t possibly work.
Josh shook his head to clear it of the invidious invasion of his thoughts. This fake fiancé game was messing with his head. He wasn’t marrying Eloise, he wasn’t dating Eloise, and when she found out he’d been hiding the truth about his visit to Sydney and his knowledge of her long-lost twin he wouldn’t be talking to Eloise.
‘Before we get there, I have a final question for you,’ he said.
‘Fire away,’ she said.
‘There’s something I haven’t asked you that I should probably know. Why is a beautiful woman like you without a date for this wedding? Without a real-life fiancé of her own to accompany her? What went wrong with your last guy?’
‘He lied to me about who he really was,’ she said flatly. ‘And that’s unforgivable.’
‘I see,’ he said. He didn’t need to know the details. It just reinforced his earlier thoughts.
They were soon entering the salubrious small town of Bowral, with shops and businesses lining the main road and those intersecting it. ‘We’ve made good time,’ Eloise said. ‘Do you want to stretch your legs? Take a walk, grab a coffee in Bowral, even a bite of lunch, before we head to Silver Trees, which is on the other side of town?’
‘Coffee sounds great,’ he said. ‘And now that you mention it, so does lunch.’
Eloise parked the car on the high street, so she could keep an eye on it, she said. Before she made to get out of the car she turned to him, her expression very serious. ‘The fake engagement starts here. There are likely to be people I know in town for the wedding. Last chance for you to back out.’
‘I’m in,’ he said.
* * *
Even though she was the driver—no one, but no one, got to drive her precious vintage car—Josh insisted on getting out of the car first to come around to her side and open the door for her.
‘I intend to start as I mean to continue as your fiancé,’ he said.
She tensed. Thank heaven he hadn’t said ‘fake fiancé’. These streets could have ears. She would have to force herself to relax and trust him to play his part.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to take her hand as she walked with him towards her favourite Bowral café, which served great coffee and the most delicious pastries baked on the premises. Enfolding hers, his hand felt warm and large and somehow comforting. He was on her side, even for only a very limited time.
She was looking up at him and smiling at something he’d said when she heard her name called out. Eloise turned to see a woman she’d dressed for her wedding two years ago. All must be going well, as she was proudly sporting an advanced baby bump.
‘Eloise, I thought it was you. Are you in town for Becca’s wedding?’ She didn’t pause for an answer. ‘Of course Becca would be wearing one of your gowns. For the second time, that is.’
‘Anna, how lovely to see you.’ They air kissed. ‘And I can see congratulations are in order.’
The other woman smiled. ‘Do you design christening gowns by any chance?’
‘Only for my most special clients,’ she said. ‘Call me and we can chat.’
Eloise kept a special linen bag of offcuts from each wedding. They came in remarkably handy for creating baby outfits, both traditionally styled and contemporary, for christenings and naming ceremonies, made with the fabric from the mother’s wedding dress. She didn’t advertise the service, as there wasn’t much profit in it, but it was an added extra for clients and unique, as far as she knew, to her company.
People boasted about starting their own christening gown family heirlooms. But you had to have bought a wedding gown from Eloise Evans Atelier first.
Anna was not doing a very good job of disguising her interest in the tall, handsome man standing by Eloise’s side.
‘Oh, Anna, this is my fiancé, Josh.’
The words tripped so easily off Eloise’s tongue, thanks to a dint of practising in front of the mirror the previous night after Josh had gone home.
‘Josh, this is Anna, one of my clients who had the most beautiful wedding two years ago.’
‘Fiancé?’ Anna said, sculpted eyebrows raised. ‘But I heard...’ She collected herself. ‘Congratulations. How exciting.’ Her gaze went straight to the ruby engagement ring glinting on Eloise’s left hand. She seemed puzzled by it.
No doubt Anna had seen the horrible hashtags on @lindytheblonde’s social media. And believed every word. Yet here was wedding-hating Eloise Evans engaged to be married. You could almost see the cogs working in the woman’s mind.
‘It’s only very recently that Ellie has done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife,’ Josh said smoothly. He embellished his words by dropping a swift kiss on her cheek.
‘Well, this is wonderful news,’ said Anna.
‘We certainly think so,’ said Josh.
‘Well played,’ Eloise whispered, as Anna walked away. ‘I dare say by the time we arrive at the wedding the word will have started to spread.’
‘Piece of cake,’ he said.
He reached for her hand again.
‘And so it begins,’ Eloise said, as if she were murmuring an endearment in her fiancé’s ear.
CHAPTER NINE
AS ELOISE SWUNG her little white sports car up the gravel driveway to her friend’s soon-to-be husband’s family estate, Silver Trees, Josh wondered what the hell he was doing there, ready to embark in full force on the fake fiancé scam. It went against the grain for him to out-and-out lie the way he had to that woman on the main street of Bowral.
And yet when Anna had given Eloise that look of sly surprise when told she was engaged, he’d felt a fierce surge of protectiveness. Obviously the woman was aware of the gossip being fomented by the heinous influencer who was trying to ruin Eloise out of meanness and spite. Perhaps Anna had even been guilty of spreading it. Eloise needed help. If that meant Josh acting the loving fiancé, then so be it. If she needed his help later to exact the kind of deeper revenge he’d outlined—and believed she should—he’d be on call to guide her.
One thing was for sure—Eloise had better restrain him if he found himself anywhere near that @lindytheblonde, as heaven knew what words he might unleash on her.
Eloise did not deserve such meanness. They’d had a rapid getting-to-know-you process over the last few days. He had noted how thoughtful and caring she was towards others. That had led him to wonder who cared for her? It seemed she went home to that stylish apartment by herself every night to lavish love on Daisy, the little stray dog who had been instrumental in his meeting Eloise. But who lavished love on Eloise? He couldn’t offer love, but he could offer his help in stopping this unfair attack on her livelihood. He vowed to do his utmost to be an impeccable fake fiancé.
Eloise pulled over in the designated parking area for the select group of guests who had been invited to stay at the house. She turned off the engine, put the stick shift into gear, and pulled on the quaint, old-fashioned handbra
ke. It was one cool car. She turned to Josh.
‘About the accommodation,’ she said. He got the impression she had been building up to saying this and now had to let it out.
‘Yes?’ he said.
‘When I told Becca I would, after all, be bringing a plus-one, and my plus-one was actually my fiancé, she was delighted for me and assumed you’d be staying in my room. The thing is, the room I’ve stayed in here a few times before is very small.’
Josh had wondered at the sleeping arrangements but hadn’t felt he could ask for details. She’d just mentioned they would be staying at the house where the wedding would be taking place. ‘I could always book into a hotel in town. I’m sure it’s not too late to get a room somewhere.’
She frowned. ‘That wouldn’t send the right message, would it? Not for a newly engaged couple supposedly madly in love.’
‘No, it wouldn’t. And we need to appear genuine.’
‘I’m glad you think so too. But sharing this room might not be so bad. It must have been originally a child’s room, I think. There’s a single bed and a sofa. I’m happy to sleep on the sofa and give you the bed. Even then it might be a bit of a squash for a man but it’s comfortable enough and—’
Josh put up his hand. ‘I insist on taking the sofa. No further argument.’
It was a relief, in a way, that there was only a single bed. He wouldn’t be taunted by the fact he couldn’t share the bed with her.
‘You’re the one doing me a favour. I insist on you having the bed.’
The interior of the car was thick with unspoken words and denials and a simmering undercurrent of sexual tension centring around the word bed. The mere thought of the enforced intimacy of sharing a bedroom with her was arousing. Eloise in her nightwear, Eloise naked under the shower, Eloise there with him all night long. But he could not think like that.
To keep his equilibrium, he had to act as if they were platonic friends bunking down together to save costs in a backpackers’ hostel. He’d certainly done that back before he started to make serious money. But not with a woman he found so intensely desirable. Not with a woman who was forbidden to him in so many ways. He felt sure she felt the same undeniable physical attraction, and had her own reasons for fighting it.
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