The Secrets She Must Tell - Lucy King Page 0,61

beginning to spin through her filled her to the brim, overwhelming her all over again.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said, kissing away the tears. ‘It’ll be all right.’

‘Will it?’

‘Of course,’ he said gruffly. ‘I bought you these,’ he added, digging his hand briefly into his pocket and then sliding a plain gold band and then a stunning diamond solitaire onto the third finger of her left hand. ‘In Paris.’

‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, her throat tightening and her heart swelling as she placed her hand over his heart and looked at them.

‘You’re beautiful.’

‘I’m a mess.’

‘You’re mine.’

‘Your lift is broken,’ she said with a watery sniff.

‘I had it stopped.’

‘You had it stopped?’

‘I couldn’t risk losing you again,’ he said, his eyes darkening with emotion, his hold on her strong and secure.

‘You won’t.’

‘Promise?’

She nodded. ‘I promise.’

EPILOGUE

Ospedale San Giovanni,

Venice

PROPPED UP IN bed in the dark, quiet private hospital room where his shattered body was gradually healing, Federico Rossi stared one last time at the image on the screen, a photo of a couple at the recent launch of the seven-star Hotel Bellevue in Paris—at one Finn Calvert in particular, a man who was the spitting image of himself but without the scars and the broken nose—and slowly, thoughtfully, closed the lid of his laptop.

Coming next month

THE GREEK’S CONVENIENT CINDERELLA

Lynne Graham

‘Mr Alexandris,’ Tansy pronounced rather stiffly.

‘Come and sit down,’ he invited lazily. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee please,’ Tansy said, following him round a sectional room divider into a rather more intimate space furnished with sumptuous sofas and sinking down into the comfortable depths of one, her tense spine rigorously protesting that amount of relaxation.

She was fighting to get a grip on her composure again but nothing about Jude Alexandris in the flesh matched the formal online images she had viewed. He wasn’t wearing a sharply cut business suit, he was wearing faded, ripped and worn jeans that outlined long powerful thighs, narrow hips and accentuated the prowling natural grace of his every movement. An equally casual dark grey cotton top complemented the jeans. One sleeve was partially pushed up to reveal a strong brown forearm and a small tattoo that appeared to be printed letters of some sort. His garb reminded her that although he might be older than her he was still only in his late twenties and that unlike her, he had felt no need to dress to impress.

Her pride stung at the knowledge that she was little more than a commodity on Alexandris’s terms. Either he would choose her, or he wouldn’t. She had put herself on the market to be bought though, she thought with sudden self-loathing. How could she blame Jude Alexandris for her stepfather’s use of virtual blackmail to get her agreement? Everything she was doing was for Posy, she reminded herself squarely and the end would justify the means…wouldn’t it?

‘So…’ Tansy remarked in a stilted tone because she was determined not to sit there acting like the powerless person she knew herself to be in his presence. ‘You require a fake wife…’

Jude shifted a broad shoulder in a very slight shrug. ‘Only we would know it was fake. It would have to seem real to everyone else from the start to the very end,’ he advanced calmly. ‘Everything between us would have to remain confidential.’

‘I’m not a gossip, Mr Alexandris.’ In fact Tansy almost laughed at the idea of even having anyone close enough to confide in because she had left her friends behind at university and certainly none of them had seemed to understand her decision to make herself responsible for her baby sister rather than returning to the freedom of student life.

‘I trust no one,’ Jude countered without apology. ‘You would be legally required to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I married you.’

‘Understood. My stepfather explained that to me,’ Tansy acknowledged, her attention reluctantly drawn to his careless sprawl on the sofa opposite, the long muscular line of a masculine thigh straining against well washed denim. Her head tipped back, her colour rising as she made herself look at his face instead, encountering glittering dark eyes that made the breath hitch in her throat.

‘I find you attractive too,’ Jude Alexandris murmured as though she had spoken.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Tansy protested, the faint pink in her cheeks heating exponentially as her tummy flipped while she wondered if she truly could be read that easily by a man.

‘For this to work, we would need that physical attraction. Nobody is likely to be fooled by two strangers pretending what they don’t feel, least of all my family, some of whom are shrewd judges of character.’

Tansy had paled. ‘Why would we need attraction? I assumed this was to be a marriage on paper, nothing more.’

‘Then you assumed wrong,’ Jude told her without skipping a beat.

THE GREEK’S CONVENIENT CINDERELLA

Lynne Graham

Available next month

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