Jessica Gilmore - Honeymooning With Her Brazilian Boss

‘It seems like a lot of effort for a chain of failing hotels. I mean, yes, the buildings are gorgeous old world creations, but I’ve been on the review sites and they need a lot of updating. And the islands are incredible, but they’re riddled with corruption and bad feeling. If you’re planning to own your own hotels wouldn’t you be better off starting from scratch?’

‘It’s not about the hotels, Harriet. It’s about justice.’

Justice and fulfilling the promise he’d made to his mother.

Without quite meaning to, he reached up and traced the line of his scar as it bisected his cheek, running his finger along the thin line that ran from forehead to chin. He would make them pay, every one of them, and wipe the Caetano name from the city. No price was too high to pay for that. Abruptly, he changed the subject. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, at least...’ She paused. ‘It’s just when you hired me it was because...’ She paused again. Harriet wasn’t usually chatty, nor had Deangelo ever seen her lost for words.

He tried to hide his amusement at her uncustomary colour and the flustered way she was wringing her hands. ‘Because I need you to pose as my wife?’

‘Yes. That.’ Her colour heightened even more. ‘At least, as Marcos Santos’s wife. That was the name you wanted me to book the room in?’

‘It’s still me, I’m afraid,’ he said drily. ‘Marcos is my middle name.’

As was Deangelo. Luciano, his first name, he’d left behind him in Brazil. Only his father’s family had ever used that name anyway; to his mother he had always been Deangelo. Her angel.

‘Right. I’m still not clear. Why the name change?’

‘Think, Harriet. I have managed to stay out of the press, but this way I can be sure the Caetanos have no idea who I am. If they think Aion are interested in their hotels the price will inflate, but Marcos Santos, CEO of a small tech firm, won’t raise any suspicion.’ Deangelo clenched his hands into fists. In a way he would have preferred suspicion. Preferred them to remember his middle names. To see him and instantly know who he was. But they had always ignored him. Thought him beneath them. Denied his very existence and claim to kinship. Why, sixteen years after their last encounter, would they suddenly remember his mother’s surname, his own full name? Recognise the skinny boy in the man he had become?

Well, the Caetanos would remember. Remember and rue the day they had disowned him and disinherited his mother. He’d make damn sure of that.

Harriet still looked unconvinced. ‘The tech firm is one of your subsidiaries, I suppose? Okay, I concede the name change, but I don’t understand why you need a wife.’

‘To make the meeting seem more like a social gathering, to put them off guard.’

‘Right.’ She picked up her tablet, her hair falling across her face, a rose gold cloud. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying that this whole plan seems utterly insane.’

‘You can say whatever you like, as long as you perform your part properly. Just remember we’re on our honeymoon and everything will be fine.’

Harriet was already at the door, but as he spoke she stopped and pivoted, eyebrows arched. ‘I’m sorry. For a moment I thought you said honeymoon .’

‘I did. It’s the perfect cover. As far as the Caetanos are concerned we are in Rio for our honeymoon and the investment talks are just a side project. I’m ensuring they won’t be tempted to look further. I’ve covered my tracks well, but I’m more comfortable with an extra layer of safeguarding.’ Deangelo wasn’t sure what the incredulous look on Harriet’s face meant, but it didn’t seem wholly positive. ‘You already agreed to pose as my wife,’ he added. ‘I’m not asking you to do anything we haven’t discussed.’

‘ Honeymoon? ’

Surely he’d been quite clear. ‘Yes.’

‘But—’ she gestured wildly, the most exasperated gesture he had ever seen from the usually cool and contained Harriet ‘—a honeymooning couple is quite, quite different to a married couple, you must see that. If we’d been married for ten years or even two, then some kind of coolness, or lack of physical affection wouldn’t be noticed. But people expect honeymooners to be, you know, honeymoony .’

‘Honeymoony?’ Was that even a word?

‘Yes!’

Deangelo stared at his PA, who seemed uncharacteristically agitated. Her cheeks were flushed a delicate tinge of pink, her lips full and red, her blue eyes brighter. Indignation and embarrassment had stripped her of her professional air and it was as if a veil had been lifted, the full force of her personality shining through, turning conventional prettiness into something deeper and more vibrant.

Something—someone—infinitely more dangerous.

Harriet swallowed and, fascinated, he watched her throat move. When she spoke her voice croaked. ‘Does it have to be a honeymoon? It’s so intimate. Exposing.’

Intimate. Exposing . Was it getting hot in the office? Deangelo pulled at his collar. ‘We’re not going to be spending the whole two weeks in Rio with the Caetanos, just the initial meeting when they try and convince me that they’re not conning me to invest in a failing business, and the shareholders’ meeting a fortnight after. The honeymoon is just a cover, not a role-play. I am recently wealthy, from the wrong side of the tracks, desperate to ally myself with the right people and with my eye firmly off the ball thanks to my new bride. It’s not complicated.’

‘Even so...’ She paused again, biting her lip. ‘A honeymoon is really tricky to pull off. If we act just like we usually do then no one will believe that we’re newlyweds for more than a minute. You need to convince anyone looking at us that you’re mad about me and I need to do the same. Just where people can see us,’ she added hurriedly. ‘Obviously.’

Deangelo had never been mad about anyone in his life. Never even been tempted to allow a relationship to progress beyond mild desire and liking. But he’d insisted on having Harriet with him for exactly this kind of feedback: not just because he trusted her, but because he also respected her opinion.

‘Obviously,’ he echoed. ‘And how do you propose we convince people we’re mad about each other?’ The words felt strange on his tongue, heavy and sensuous, and as he spoke them he had a sudden vision of Harriet smiling at him, her hand in his, her lush body warm against him, and with that vision a sense that he was stepping over a line and into the unknown. That the walls around him suddenly didn’t feel quite as solid as they always had. He breathed in deep and slow, willing the walls to solidify.

‘Well...’ She walked back into the office, placing her tablet onto his desk. Deangelo stilled, very aware of her wild strawberry scent, of the curve of her hips, the grace in her long limbs. ‘I’ve not actually been on a honeymoon, but I suppose it’s about showing that you’re together, standing a little closer than normal, touching each other’s hands or arms.’ He watched her hand as it fluttered close to his shoulder before jerking firmly away, but he could feel a warm sensation on the tip of his shoulder blade, as if her fingertips rested there.

He straightened, trying to dislodge the ghostly caress. ‘Is that how you behave when you’re in love?’ He both did and didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

‘I... I’ve never actually been in love. I’ve dated,’ she added, chin tilted and eyes bright. ‘Obviously. But this isn’t about me; it’s about what other people do and what they’ll expect. Like always looking into each other’s eyes. Pet names...’

‘Pet names?’

‘Yes, you know, like darling or honey or something...’