The Boss's Fake Fiancee (5 page)

Chapter Five

For the next ten minutes, Garth wove through thick traffic, a ticking muscle in his jaw betraying his frustration. Melissa winced at every abrupt stop and start. Garth’s refusal to give her even the tiniest bit of understanding had done wonders to eliminate her lingering feelings of guilt, but nothing could eliminate the knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

They finally pulled up in front of a tall, marble-clad building on Sixth Avenue. A man wearing a black cap and dark suit waiting on the curb ran around to the driver’s side.

“Mr. Solen?” he asked.

Garth put the car into park. “Yes. We won’t be long.”

He left the car running as he jumped out. Cabs piled up behind them, honking their horns. Melissa looked everywhere but at Garth as he extended a hand to help her from the car. She ignored him and got out as quickly as she could and started walking. Seemingly unperturbed by her obvious attempts to pretend he was not there, Garth’s long legs made short work of the distance between them. With a casual but deliberate move, he reached out and touched the small of her back, guiding her toward the building ahead. She tensed, not wanting to feel her body react to him. But it did, and she found herself leaning against his hand, unwillingly relishing the gentle pressure of his touch.

“I don’t know if there will be press here,” Garth said, his mouth barely moving, “but you should know there’s bound to be talk about our visit.”

Melissa finally paused and looked at their destination. “Garth, why the hell did you bring me to Hadrien? Are you
trying
to whip the press into a frenzy?”

Hadrien was an exclusive jewelry store known for catering to only the wealthiest clients. Rumors had it that the manager checked the portfolio of anyone who wanted to walk through the exclusive steel doors. Their signature engagement rings—set with enormous four and five-carat rose-hued diamonds—were a New York tradition.

“My grandmother loves it here. She’ll expect it. Now try to act engaged. I want this to look real.”

The pressure on her back did not change, and Garth did not look at her as they moved toward the building. Melissa gritted her teeth. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in her idea of “real.” That would have involved sweet nothings, loving glances, and maybe,
possibly
, something like a smile.

They were greeted at the door by a man wearing a pinstriped navy suit. He was tall, with a massive chest, dark skin, and close-cropped white hair. “Welcome to Hadrien,” he said, a majestic lilt in his deep voice. “And congratulations.” He extended a hard to Melissa and dropped her a tiny wink. “I’m Tennyson Merrysman, but you can call me Ten.”

She shook hands nervously, feeling impossibly small and gauche as her unpolished nails disappeared into his massive palm. “Nice to meet you.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before extending his hand to Garth. “Mr. Solen, sir. Good to see you again. I appreciate you thinking of us for this important occasion.”

“Of course. Thanks for seeing us on short notice, Ten.”

Ten pulled open the door and gestured for them to walk inside. “Shall we?”

As if he’d heard her earlier thoughts, Garth paused, looked down at her, and pulled her closer to his side. His hand closed around her waist as the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I can’t wait.”

Their hips brushed together. The feeling of his body, pressed against hers, sent a shiver along Melissa’s spine.

Breathe. In and out. Breathe.

They walked through the doorway. Garth’s fingers splayed out along her curve of her hip and Melissa wobbled on her heels. The tiny, deliberate smile on his lips turned into something more annoying. Something deliberate. Pleased.

Melissa considered smacking him.

That wouldn’t look real, now, would it?

“Ms. Bencher?”

Melissa heard Ten’s voice as if from a distance. She realized he must have said something to her, but she had no idea what it was. “What?” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She tried to speak normally, but her voice cracked.

“She’s a little overwhelmed,” Garth said to Ten.

Melissa bristled at the condescending tone but forced herself to laugh.

Ten smiled encouragingly. Melissa had the feeling he’d dealt with more than a few overwhelmed brides. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “We’ll take care of you.”

As they walked, Garth and Ten talked about a necklace Garth was having made for Nan for Christmas. Melissa tried not to gape at the dark-hued elegance of the store. This was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Tiffany’s, or some of the other jewelry stores she’d visited with her mother over the years. There was just one long glass case against the wall, with security guards at either end, a tall, thin woman standing behind the counter, and no other patrons. Silver and gold flashed under a bank of lighting, while dark velvet curtains contrasted in heightened elegance with the shimmer of diamonds and the milky gleam of pearls.

Melissa’s mother had never liked diamonds. She preferred splashy, colorful stones, glass beads, and jewelry from obscure artists in SoHo. Melissa, on the other hand, had always had a secret fantasy—probably created by watching
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
one too many times—of someday picking out a diamond ring with her fiancé.

He’d stare at her adoringly and choose an enormous stone he could barely afford.

She’d smile, bat her lashes, and hold out her hand.

They’d lose themselves in each other’s eyes. A saleswoman would have to clear her throat to get their attention.

“This way, Ms. Bencher.”

Ten’s deep voice brought her out of her Audrey Hepburn–inspired reverie. She followed Ten’s lead past the jewelry case into a small, private room with no windows and three burgundy armchairs arranged around a table. A security guard closed the door gently behind them. On the table, a black cloth appeared to conceal a square object.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Garth said.

He pulled out a chair, and she forced herself to smile and look relaxed. “Thanks,
darling
,” she replied sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

He wanted this to be real? Then, damn it, he was going to have to deal with
her
reality. The one where people got married because they liked each other. Cared about each other. Maybe even loved each other.

On impulse, she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He froze. She patted his hand and tried to act nonchalant.

Did I really just kiss my boss?

Her small, rebellious gesture had clearly backfired, as the touch of her lips against his skin sent a shock of heat racing through her body.

“I had Ten bring out a few pieces I thought you’d like,” Garth said, his voice slightly strangled. A moment later, he forced out, “Sweetheart.”

She slid into one of the chairs and ran her palms down the soft velvet upholstery. Garth sat down beside her and took her hand. He squeezed gently. The gesture was obviously intended to communicate a casual
Isn’t this fun?
to Ten, and a terse
Don’t mess with me, baby
to her
.

She squeezed back, hoping to convey her own mix of
I love you, too, darling
, and
If you dish it out, you better be ready to take it.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Ten,” Garth said, nodding toward the large man across from them.

Ten pulled the cloth off the table with a flourish, revealing a silver tray with a black velvet ring display on top. Five diamonds winked at Melissa, and she gasped.

“Now that’s exactly the sort of reaction I was hoping for,” Ten said, with a deep chuckle.

The diamonds were huge, and they twinkled madly as living rainbows danced across their surface. Each stone had its own shape and character. Ten began to describe the different cuts—Melissa heard the words “heart,” “marquis,” and “emerald.” But she couldn’t focus on anything other than the rings and the feeling of Garth’s hand, warm and solid against hers.

“Why don’t you try one?” Ten said. “They transform when they’re on your hand. You’ll see.” He handed Garth a ring with a large center stone set high above a delicate platinum band.

Garth let go of her other hand to take the ring from Ten. He held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Ready?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers.

Melissa nodded. Nerves suddenly tightened her stomach. She knew this was all make-believe, but somehow, that didn’t quite matter.

Garth reached for her left hand. She tried to look excited and relaxed all at once. She guessed it didn’t work, as her cheeks flushed with the sudden beating of her heart.

The heavy metal slipped onto her finger. Garth lingered, holding her hand in his. He stroked her palm. Melissa quivered, deep in her stomach.

“What do you think?” Garth asked.

She stared at her hand. The huge stone sat there, winking at her. It was a magnificent piece of jewelry and she should have been excited, on some purely feminine level, to wear it. But when she looked at her finger and saw how the enormous jewel swallowed up most of her hand, it felt…wrong.

She glanced at Garth. “I—I don’t know,” she replied, unsure how to react.

He studied her hand. He lifted it up slightly, and turned it an inch or so in either direction. Then he looked into her eyes and Melissa had the feeling he was reading her mind.

“No,” Garth said. He slid the ring off her finger. “Not right.”

Melissa breathed a sigh of relief, even while she felt an odd sense of loss when he broke off the contact between them.

They tried two others, but each time, Garth studied the ring, studied Melissa, and then declared it a failure. Finally, he leaned toward Ten and whispered something in his ear. Ten nodded approvingly and walked behind a small counter. He bent down and retrieved something from underneath.

“I brought it just in case,” he said, as he handed a small black box to Garth.

The box opened with a soft
click
. Garth stared inside for a moment before withdrawing the tiny object. As they had each time before, Garth gently slipped the new ring on her finger. Melissa looked down, fearing another huge diamond.

And then froze.

This ring was entirely different from the others. A large, aquamarine stone sparkled from the center, circled by what had to be twenty or thirty tiny, shimmering diamonds. Delicate filigree danced around the stones, giving the whole thing an otherworldly, ornate beauty. It was lighter than the other rings, but taller.

“It’s one of our vintage rings,” Ten said. “An Art Deco piece from the 1920s. Recently discovered at an estate sale. There were a few missing stones that had to be replaced, but otherwise, it’s all original period work.”

“It’s incredible,” Melissa breathed. She traced the outline of the center stone with one finger. The ring felt magical, like she’d just been given a treasure from a fairy tale. She imagined the original owner as a slightly built woman with a sleek cap of shining hair, wearing the ring with her waist-long string of pearls and flapper dress.

She glanced up from the ring and her gaze was captured by Garth, who was staring at her with an uncanny intensity.

“What?” she asked hesitantly.

Garth paused, and Melissa felt a blush rising in her cheeks. She brushed back a strand of hair and laughed weakly, staring at her hand. “Do you like it?”

“I do.” He reached out and tipped her face toward his. “It’s perfect.”

Melissa looked up, surprised to feel his hand on her skin. Any protest died on her lips as Garth leaned forward and silenced her with a kiss.

…

He’d done it on impulse, a crude means of exerting some sort of revenge on Melissa for flustering him. He’d wanted to punish her for the little kiss she’d planted on his cheek, which had stopped him in his tracks, and the bizarre spark of connection he’d felt each time he touched her skin and slipped a new ring on her finger. He shouldn’t feel anything at all, and instead he felt a surge of possessive pleasure at the act of marking and branding her as
his
, wearing
his
ring.

The whole experience was barbaric and chauvinistic and utterly unlike him. He’d thought about Samantha for the barest second when he slipped on the first ring, but she was forgotten in a heartbeat. Because Melissa was different, and something about the look on her face when he slid on the final ring erased the memories that he’d been nursing for years.

And then his body took over for his mind and he leaned forward without only the barest moment of hesitation.

The need was too intense, the moment too right.

Melissa froze as they touched, her lips parting under his. They merged for one moment, and he could smell her hint of roses, taste of mint, and softness all delivered through the silky warmth of her lips. He touched her lip with his tongue. Her mouth parted and he pressed his advantage, exploring and tasting, not even caring that Ten was there, or that security cameras were likely recording the entire interaction. All he knew was a fierce desire to linger, to lose himself in a tempest of heat and need.

She seemed to feel the same, eagerly responding, matching his movements with her own. He touched the back of her neck, tickled the silky hair that had been pulled into a loose knot. He wanted to unleash it. Drag it down and tangle his hands in it.

He wanted to hold tight. Explore her curves. Claim her.

It was the very intensity of his desire that finally drew him back.

Hellfire.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

With an effort, he concealed the moment of unrestrained emotion. Melissa’s eyes were wide, her lips parted in surprise. Had she felt it, too?

Unsure of the answer, he forced a small, satisfied smile, as if he’d done the whole thing just to irritate her. As if the exercise of slipping rings on her finger and then kissing her soundly didn’t affect him in the least.

Her eyes flared with anger, and he relaxed. That was better. He would rather she was angry with him and thought that he had used her than have her know how deeply that single kiss had affected him. After all, the last thing he wanted was to give her the impression that any of this—anything at all—was real. He didn’t want, or need, a bride. He’d built his life around the expectation of being alone, and he was happy with that.