Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Waking up, I roll my neck along the side of the soft pillow and yawn, trying to reacquaint myself with my surroundings.
The plane’s cabin is dimmed by the type of darkness that isn’t really darkness at all, just thick plastic blocking the light.
My eyelids are heavy as I blink and glance at my watch. I’ve been asleep for five hours.
Closing my eyes again, I pretend like I’ve gone back to sleep.
It’s better than facing Luciano. I’m not ready.
I’m still embarrassed from earlier, replaying the way he looked at me with pity in his eyes as he had to talk me off the edge of a panic attack like I was a small child who’d never been on an aircraft before.
It’s silly, really. My fear of flying is the most unnecessary fear a person could have.
Statistically, more people die in car accidents than in plane crashes and the chance of a plane going down is slim, but still I’ve never been able to get past it.
Usually, I combat my fear with a hefty dose of anxiety meds mixed with a lovely sleeping pill, but stupidly, I decided to go cold turkey for this morning’s flight.
Wrong decision.
The only right decision I feel like I’ve made in the last couple of weeks has been to take a damn nap after my certified freak of a meltdown.
“Morning, sunshine,” Luciano’s voice peppers over the sound of typing. Giving up the ruse, I crack an eyelid and see he’s on his computer.
“Working on the case?” I ask through a yawn, stretching and scooting more upright. As I move, something on my lap begins to slip and reflexes have me catching it.
A sharp intake of air lodges in my throat as my fingers clasp around a navy blue leather jewelry box. Luciano stops typing and turns his head toward me.
Frozen, I stare down at the box in my hand like it could cause me physical harm if I move it. Like it’s a bomb, ready to detonate with the twitch of my fingers.
Seconds turn into minutes, then into hours, and I’m being dramatic because really only a couple seconds pass by before Luciano says, “Well, open it.”
Biting the inside of my lip, I carefully open each side of the Harry Winston box to reveal the exact ring I fell in love with a few years ago and have dreamt about ever since.
A gorgeous, three-carat diamond sits in a platinum setting bordered by a halo of smaller round diamonds, surrounded by an array of marquise and pear-shaped diamonds.
The ring is unique and timeless—something you’d see on the finger of an old Hollywood starlet who married the love of her life at eighteen years old.
This is the type of ring you pass down through every generation of your family.
It’s certainly not a style anyone would predict I love, which is exactly why I became so enchanted by it. You’d have to really know me to know I love this ring…
I stare at it in shock, opening and closing my mouth like a fish, trying to figure out the words to describe how I’m feeling, but all sense of the English language has floated from my brain.
Rather than speak, I turn to Luciano, completely flabbergasted.
I want to cry with what I know will be happy tears that bleed into devastation. I want to squeal with excitement before screaming in rage.
And through it all, I wonder why the hell he actually purchased a ring for me.
As though he has a hidden talent as a mind reader, he shrugs. “You told Moreno your ring was being resized, and that was what, two weeks ago? You can’t show up in Spain without a ring, so I bought one.”
“But it’s everything I’ve always dreamed of,” I manage, and instantly regret my words. He didn’t need to know that I’m holding my literal dream engagement ring.
Then, as my heart catches up with my brain, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
Luciano bought my dream engagement ring for a fake engagement. This is all for show, and when it’s over, I’ll have to give it back.
I’ll never receive my dream ring from a man I love—a man who will be my husband.
Luciano just ruined it for me.
“I—”
“Typically,” he cuts me off. “This is the part where one person gets on their knee, and the other says yes, but considering it isn’t really up for negotiation, I think the appropriate thing to do now would be to put the ring on, Raina.”
The frigid tone of his voice forces a fresh new wave of tears to the brim of my lashes, and I quickly look back down at the stunning piece of jewelry cradled in my hand.
He resumes his typing, and I can’t help but feel utterly devastated that he’s given me this. Gritting my teeth, I force myself to combat the tears that are threatening to fall.
“How did you know?” I ask in a whisper, still admiring the ring with sadness plaguing my heart.
“Know what?”
“Everything. My size. My style.” The exact ring I’ve had picked out for years as the one I’d want if I ever found the love of my life.
“Call it a lucky guess.”
The rest of the flight is silent, and I stare out the window, clutching the engagement ring as though it's my lifeline. I don’t reach for him when the plane starts to descend, even though I’m absolutely terrified and am screaming on the inside, begging for death because it would be faster than the potential fiery crash at the bottom if the wheels malfunction.
Why would I lean on him for support? I’ve already made a fool out of myself at takeoff. No need to repeat the mortification.
As the plane rolls into the gate, I can breathe again.
Slipping the ring onto my finger, I carefully place the box in my carry-on before rolling up my blanket into a little burrito to fit in my bag, not even pausing to admire the sparkling piece of artwork on my finger.
When I’ve finished packing up my things, I give the luggage to Luciano as he waits with his hand outstretched.
Then I try to get into the mental headspace of pretending to be the future Mrs. Paladino for the next seventy-two hours.
At least while Javier is around.
Luciano pushes open the door of our suite at the Four Seasons Madrid and gestures for me to walk in first. The room is spacious, and I immediately gravitate to the window, looking out at the incredible view of the city.
Behind us, the bellboy enters with our luggage on a shiny gold cart and begins to unload it. Luciano hands him a folded bill before he leaves, taking the cart with him.
“At least Moreno sprung for a decent room,” he says as his eyes sweep over the space we’ll be sharing for the next three nights. “One bed though.”
“He thinks we’re engaged.”
“Should have asked the front desk for two,” Luciano mutters, glancing at me with an irritated expression as he picks up his small suitcase.
He’s infuriating.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I cock my hip to the side. “Afraid you’ll get too close and touch me? I didn’t peg you for a cuddler.”
“I’m not going to touch you, Raina.” His brows crease together.
“Good.”
“Good.”
We stare at each other for entirely too long before my phone pings, breaking our silence.
“I’ll take the couch,” Luciano grumbles as he walks to the suite’s bathroom. The way he says it reminds me of how a defiant child would talk back to a parent, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me.
“Something funny?” he calls over the sound of running water.
“Nope.” Pulling out my phone, I read my message, ignoring the sound of the door shutting.
Javier
I trust everything went well with your arrival?
Sighing, I sit on the edge of the luxurious king-sized bed. The duvet feels like a cloud under my thighs, and I can’t wait to crawl beneath it later.
Yes, just got to the hotel.
Javier
Wonderful. My family and I will meet you at Sobrino de Botin at eight. Unfortunately, my mother was unaware of your company, so there is not an extra seat on the reservation tonight; however, I can arrange for dinner to be brought to your boyfriend while we are away.
You mean my fiancé, and he won’t be happy about that. You can’t add one more to the reservation?
Unfortunately not. See you tonight.
Tossing my phone next to me, I groan and fall backward on the bed, rubbing my hands over my face.
“Something wrong?” Luciano asks as he emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later.
Sitting up, I nearly die on the spot when I see him fresh out of the shower and practically on full display for my greedy eyes.
There’s a towel hung low around Luciano’s waist, and water droplets cling to his skin like they’re a crucial part of his structure.
I can’t help but to take him in—he’s all hard edges and deep ridges, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to stand up and go rub my hands against every inch of his skin.
Swallowing my pride as my inner walls clench around air, I muster up a steady voice to tell him, “Javier expects me to meet his family tonight, at dinner. I’m supposed to be there at eight. He said to come alone…”
“No.”
“How am I supposed to explain who you are to his family? I’m supposed to be pretending to be his wife.”
“And you’re also supposed to be my fiancé when Javier is around, so I may as well pretend to be someone else when necessary, too. Perhaps your…brother.” Luciano holds the top of his towel as he bends to unzip his suitcase.
“What?”
“I’m not leaving you alone with him, Raina.”
“Lies on top of lies, on top of lies, on top of lies.” I toss my hands into the air. “Wife, fiancée, fiancé, brother. How the hell are we supposed to keep up with it all?”
He pulls out some clothes—navy slacks and a white button-down, from the looks of the folded garments—and shrugs when he stands. “Should be relatively easy.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
His back is to me as he returns to the bathroom. The white terry cloth towel tied tight around him gives me the perfect view of his rock-hard glutes.
Jesus, I’m no better than a man.
“Start getting ready, Raina, fake fiancé plays fake brother night one is about to begin,” he calls over his shoulder before he slams the bathroom door again.
Looking down at the ring on my finger, I tell myself I can do this. It’ll be easy.
All I have to do is pretend I’m madly in love with Luciano while in front of Javier, and that he’s a member of my family while we’re in front of his.
At least I know one of those things will be easy.
I’ve already been in love with him for years.