Cocky Fiance(30)

Did she expect us all to hug and sing Kumbaya together?

"You need to get changed and leave. Immediately," Hawk instructed.

Nodding her head, she disappeared into the change room.

Hawk pulled me away until far enough out of earshot. "I've got to go and deal with problem number two."

"Is she here?"

"In my office."

"Okay," I responded nervously. There were many ways this could go. It would either dig the hole deeper, and the media would have a field day with it, and Rita could leave with her tail between her legs. Or the Renshaw's could win and effectively destroy everything Hawk had created.

Hawk caressed my cheek, and I leaned into his touch. "You're so fucking beautiful, Britta."

I kissed his palm.

"I'm going to spend a lot of time making this up to you, Britta. I promise I will."

I smiled, certain my dirty thoughts were written all over my smitten face. "You can start tonight," I suggested.

"Britta Valentino, you are the right kind of naughty."





Hawk





She was sitting with her back to me. Long red hair cascading down the chair's backrest. I could already smell her perfume, and I hadn't even walked through the glass door.

"Rita," I said by way of greeting as I stepped inside.

She stood, all smiles like she hadn't been responsible for slandering my name with assault allegations.

"Good to see you, Hawk." Rita's smile turned into a knowing smirk. I'd love to have wiped that off her face. She seemed mighty confident for a woman who was about to be schooled. Walking around to my desk, I unbuttoned my suit jacket and waited for her to take a seat before I did the same.

For a moment, we just stared at each other in a silent stand-off. She crossed one leg over the other, uncaring that her red dress was creeping up her thigh.

"So..." she began, tapping manicured nails on the armrest. "What can I do for you, Mr. Carnage?"

"You could retract your allegations of assault with both the police and the media."

Rita laughed. "Not going to happen."

"You work for the Renshaw's, right?"

She tut-tutted. "I don't work for anyone. I have clients. I get paid to satisfy my client's needs, and then I move on to the next."

"We're in a bit of a predicament, Ms. Waltsworth. I need your story retracted."

"Like I said, not going to happen."

I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk. In response, Rita leaned back into her chair, maintaining the distance between us.

"I've been doing some digging." I watched carefully for any sign of fear. None yet. But I had plenty more up my sleeve. "You've been a very active girl it seems, Ms. Waltsworth... if that indeed is your real name?"

Her lips twitched.

"When I Googled your name, nothing appeared. No social media accounts, no news articles, no mentions whatsoever. So I performed a reverse image search on you from an untagged photo on Rebekah's Facebook from her wedding."

Another lip twitch.

"It turns out you've been Vanessa Tome, Veronica Steele, Sarah King... and that's just to name a few."

She cleared her throat, her knee bouncing from nerves.

"And I particularly like this picture of you..." I moved my monitor so she could see herself in action. "This is you and Harold Reynold holidaying in the Greek Isles right before he filed for bankruptcy. He only floated his company on the sharemarket the day before, and suddenly he's rendered broke? Unlikely. And this one..." I scrolled down the page. "Isn't this David Renshaw and yourself at a charity ball?"

Rita was no longer smiling. In fact, her jaw was now twitching as she attempted to contain her anger. She had been caught out, and she knew it.   





 

"Your game is strong, Rita, but you failed to cover your tracks. Especially from those you tried to fuck over. Number-one rule... don't ever pose with your clients in photos even when under an alias."

"I was simply doing as my client asked."

"So, if I turned down Renshaw's offer, he would set you out to defame me as payback?"

"That's correct."

"That much I'd figured out when you started making sudden appearances around the time of his harassing phone calls and emails. I wasn't lying when I said, I remember everyone I encounter, and you simply did not ring a bell. I haven't, however, been able to make the connection between you and Rebekah."

Rita hesitated before answering. She had nothing to lose, her game was up. "I'm a friend of Roman's. Was a friend. He insisted I be in the bridal party since her brother was a groomsman."

"So, he wanted his mistress to be at his wedding, helping his bride prepare for the big day and who he could later fuck throughout the reception?"

"Yep."

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, and Rita just nodded. Seems we, at least, had one thing in common. We both thought Roman Hopheart was a complete and utter piece of fucking scum.

"So, I'm sure you know how the rest of this goes," I said, leaning back in my chair and hooking my ankles on the edge of my desk. "But in case I have to make myself perfectly clear, I'll spell it out. Today... not tomorrow, today... you'll issue a written statement to the press and visit the police headquarters informing them of your retraction. If you fail to do so by..." I glanced at my watch, "... three this afternoon, you expect me to file a suit against you and the Renshaws for public defamation and false allegations. Any loss of income, as a result of your actions, will fall squarely on your shoulders. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"You have two hours."

Rising from her seat, Rita made a bee-line to the door.

"Oh... and Rita?"

She stopped in her tracks, hand already on the handle.

"Give this to Renshaw, would you?" I met her at the door, handing over a sealed envelope. She tentatively accepted the message, her nervous eyes meeting mine.

"What is it?"

"Um... just a little something to clear the air."

She made to leave, but I stopped her once more.

"And another thing, Rita?"

"Yes?" she asked, slightly irritated.

"I wouldn't be in the same room when he opens it."





Chapter 24


Hawk





"We're all ears." Ricky sat on the sofa, arms folded across his chest, brows raised in question. If body language was anything to go by, it was going to be one tough audience.

Britta laced her fingers with mine in a sign of solidarity, six pairs of eyes following the movement. We stood in front of her family, each one wanting answers, more than half confused by what was happening before them.

We, of course, we're adults, and we shouldn't owe an explanation to anyone. Italian families, however, were a completely different ball game.

An awkward silence settled between us all before Britta did the unthinkable.

"Hawk and I have been seeing each other," she blurted out in a ‘give-no-fucks' tone. "And if anyone has issues with it then that's your problem and it means shit to me."

"Britta!" her mom scolded.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my mouth like a ventriloquist as I looked nervously at their gobsmacked faces. "That wasn't the plan."

They weren't impressed. Our goal was to ease them into the idea, not run over them with a freight train and then hit reverse. Britta, however, had gone rogue and it was now my turn to rectify the situation.

"What she means is, we-"

"What I mean is..." she interrupted. "For weeks we kept our relationship under wraps because we were both fearful of what all of you would say. Yes, Hawk is intense. Yes, he's bossy. Yes, he's brooding. And yes, he has a reputation as a ladies' man, but after the last few days we've had, I've come to realize his intensity is what gets shit done. He's bossy because a business the size of his doesn't run itself and one false move will see a competitor come swooping in. And he broods because he's constantly thinking of ways to improve and how to beat the assholes coming at him."

"Britta!" her mom scolded again.

It was useless... no one could stop Britta now.

"And..." she continued, looking up at me and winking before she turned back to her stunned family, "... I don't care about his past. I'm the only woman in his life now, and that's how it's gonna stay. So if you don't like it, then you can go and get-"   





 

"Britta!" her mom stood and pointed a finger. "If you dare say that word, I'll-"

"Stuffed, Mom," Brit interjected. "You can go and get stuffed." She turned to me, an indignant frown on her face. "See how little faith they have in me?"

I cleared my throat. "You're getting a little... passionate."

"I thought it was great when I found out!" Slate offered, and the rest of the family turned on him.

"You knew?" Britta's dad asked.

"Bullshit. How the hell did you know?" Harry questioned doubtfully.

Slate pointed to his sister. "Have you ever seen Britta look so smitten? She's had the same twinkle in her eye for weeks. You would have noticed too if you paid attention."

The family bickered, more with Slate for keeping his secrets to himself.

"And what do you have to add?" Brock asked, looking to me for a more diplomatic answer. Everyone quietened, gazes narrowed in on me.

"Well... Britta and I didn't plan this. I guess you could say the attraction has always been there. She's a very beautiful and smart girl." Britta squeezed my hand, and I winked down at her. "And when she told me I was to be her fake fiancé, well, it was the start of something we couldn't walk away from. And most importantly, I couldn't walk away from it. We fell for each other instantly, and I got to see the passionate, protective side of Britta recently when things started to go... downhill. She has my back, and I'll work hard the rest of my life proving that I have hers." I turned to Mr. Valentino who'd been surreptitiously swiping at stray tears. "Mr. Valentino, I'd like to ask if it was okay-"