The Bride Fonseca Needs(18)

Max turned at the door to the dining room, where their guests were  waiting, stopping her. His grip on her hand tightened and compelled her  to look up at him. She'd been too wound up to really take him in before  now, but his dark grey morning suit along with a silk cravat made him  look even more handsome and masculine. He could have stepped out of the  nineteenth century. A rake if ever there was one. Even though he was  clean-shaven and his unruly hair was tamed. Well, as tamed as it would  ever be.

Darcy felt a rogue urge to reach up and run her fingers through it, to muss it up.

'Okay?'

She looked deep into those golden eyes and felt her heart skip a beat.  She nodded minutely. Max cupped her face with his hand and rubbed a  thumb across her lower lip. Her body clamoured, telling her how much  she'd missed his touch.

And then he tensed. Darcy looked to the side to see a tall dark man  with possibly the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen in her life.  White-blonde hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. But they were warm, and  the woman was smiling at Darcy.                       
       
           



       

Max took his hand away from her jaw and stood straight. She could feel  the tension in his form. 'Darcy, I'd like you to meet Luca Fonseca, my  brother, and his wife Serena.'

Max's twin was as tall, and as powerfully built as he was, but much darker, with black hair and dark blue eyes.

Darcy shook hands with both of them and Serena came closer to say, 'Your dress is beautiful.'

Darcy made a small face, feeling completely inadequate in the presence  of this goddess. 'I felt less might be more, considering it was a  registry office wedding.'

Serena made a sound of commiseration and said, 'My husband and I had a  beach wedding, just us and close family, and I can't tell you how  relieved I was not to be paraded down some aisle like a wind-up doll.'

Darcy let out a little laugh, surprised that she was so warm and  friendly. She felt a pang to realise that she probably wouldn't ever  meet her again after this.

A staff member interrupted them to let them know that everyone was  ready for Max and Darcy to make their entrance as a married couple. Luca  and Serena went inside and Darcy took a deep breath, glad that it was  only a handful of guests. Max took her hand and she pasted a bright  smile on her face as they walked into a welcome of clapping and cheers.

They were soon separated and caught up in a round of congratulations  and chatter. Darcy felt even more like a fraud, aware of Max's tall form  on the other side of the room as he spoke to his brother. She felt as  if she had 'fake bride' emblazoned on her forehead.

When there was a lull Serena surprised her by coming over and handing her a glass of champagne.

Darcy took a grateful sip. 'Thanks, I needed that.'

Serena frowned minutely. 'Are you okay? You look a little pale.'

Darcy smiled weakly. 'It's just been a bit of a whirlwind two weeks.'

Serena was about to say something when her husband Luca appeared at her  side and wound his arm possessively around her waist. They shared a  look so intimate that Darcy felt like a voyeur. And something worse:  envy.

To Darcy's intense relief a gong sounded then, indicating that lunch  would be served. She siezed on the excuse to break away and find her  seat, and pushed down the gnawing sense of emptiness that had no place  here, at a fake wedding.

* * *

The tension that gripped Max whenever he saw his brother had eased  somewhat by the time they were sipping fragrant coffee after lunch. He  looked around at the guests at the long table. He and Darcy were at the  head and she was leaning towards the man on her left, one of Max's  accountants.

This wedding was putting him in pole position to achieve everything  he'd ever wanted: the ultimate respect among his peers. So why wasn't he  feeling a sense of triumph? Why on earth was he preoccupied with his  very fake wife and how delectable she looked in her wedding dress? How  he'd like to peel it bit by bit from that luscious body?

At that moment he spied his brother and his wife, sitting halfway down  the table. They were side by side and looking at one another with utter  absorption. It made something dark twist inside him.

He shouldn't have invited them. All anyone would have to do would be to  look at Luca and Serena and realise how flimsy the façade of his  marriage to Darcy was.

Once again his brother was effortlessly proving Max's lack. And worse  was the evidence that whatever blows Luca had been dealt in his life  they hadn't touched some deep part of him, tainting him for ever. For  the first time, Max felt more than envy-he felt hollow.

'What is it? You look as if you're about to murder someone.'

The low voice came close to his ear and Max turned his head to see  Darcy's face, a small frown between her eyes. He felt exposed-and  frustrated. There was a futile sense of rage in his gullet that was old  and dark, harking back to that one cataclysmic day in his childhood.  Still to be bound by that day was galling.

He acted instinctively-seeking something he couldn't put a name to.  Perhaps an antidote to the darkness inside him. An escape from the  demons nipping at his heels. He uncurled his hand and put it around  Darcy's waist, tugging her into him before claiming her mouth in a kiss  that burned like wildfire through his veins.

It didn't bring escape, though. It brought carnal hunger, and a need  that only she seemed able to tap into. Incensed that she could do this  to him so easily-and here, in front of witnesses-made Max deepen the  embrace. He felt rather than heard Darcy's moan as both hands moved  around her back.

Eventually some sliver of sanity seemed to pierce the heat haze in his  brain and he pulled back. Darcy took a second to open her eyes. Her  mouth was pink and swollen, her breasts moving rapidly against him.                       
       
           



       

And then he saw her come to her senses. Those blue eyes went from hot  to cold in seconds and she tried to pull free, but Max didn't let her  go, keeping her attention on him.

Darcy couldn't seem to suck enough oxygen into her heaving lungs. When  she could, she hissed at Max, 'What the hell was that little caveman  move?'

She knew damn well that his urge to indulge in that very public display  of affection hadn't been entirely inspired by the need to fool their  guests, because the look on his face just before he'd kissed her had  been dark and haunted. It struck a raw nerve.

She pushed herself free of Max's embrace and stood up.

He stood up too, frowning. 'Where are you going?'

Darcy whispered angrily, 'I'm taking ten minutes' break from this charade-if that's all right with you?'

She forced a poilte smile at their guests, who had now started moving  around after lunch, but didn't stop, heading straight for a secluded  balcony through an open set of French doors. She needed air. Now.

She went and stood at the stone wall and looked out over Rome, basking  benignly in the midafternoon sun. It was idyllic, and a million miles  from the turmoil in her belly and her head.

Damn Max and his effortless ability to push her buttons. The galling  thing was she didn't even know what button he was pushing. She just knew  she was angry with him, and she hated feeling like a puppet on a  string. This was a mistake. No amount of money was worth this. She'd  happily live as a nomad for the rest of her life if she could just be as  far away from Max as possible.

Liar.

'Darcy?'

She closed her eyes. No escape.

Darcy turned from the view. It was the thread of concern in his voice that made her glance at him, but his face was unreadable.

She looked at him accusingly. 'Why did you kiss me like that? It wasn't just to put on a show for people.'

'No,' he admitted reluctantly, 'it wasn't just for that.'

A pain that Darcy knew she shouldn't be feeling gripped her when she  thought of the anger and frustration she'd sensed in the kiss.

'It's one thing to be wilfully and knowingly used for another's  benefit, and to agree to that, but I won't let you take the fact that  I'm not the lover you want out on me.'

Max's eyes widened. And then he came in front of her and put his hands  on the wall either side of her, caging her in. In a low, fierce voice he  said, 'That statement is so far from the truth it's not even funny. The  only woman I am remotely interested in is right in front of me.'

Darcy swallowed and tried not to let Max's proximity render her stupid. 'But you were angry...I could feel it.'

Max pushed himself off the wall and ran a hand around his jaw. He stood  beside Darcy and looked out at the view. Then he sighed and without  looking at her said, 'You're right. I was angry.'

Darcy rested her hip against the wall, her own anger diffusing treacherously. 'Why?'

Max's mouth twitched, but it wasn't a smile. More a reflex. 'My brother, primarily. I saw them-him and his wife...'

Without elaborating Darcy knew exactly what he meant. She'd seen it too. Their almost unbearable intimacy.