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Her throat tightened with a new troubling thought. Perhaps now that he’d secured her as his wife, he would take a mistress on the side. Having a mistress wasn’t uncommon for men of power and wealth, but the idea that Andrés might have one while married to her had her stomach in knots and her heart aching miserably.
The cold slither of something around her neck made her blink in dismay. She stared down at the emerald necklace Andrés had fastened around her neck.
“What’s this for?” she asked huskily, momentarily captivated by the beauty and magnificence of the necklace.
“Consider it a wedding gift.” He latched the necklace into place and then cupped her shoulders, turning her around to face him. His gaze burned with possessiveness as it lingered on the large green stone surrounded by glittering diamonds that nestled just above the swells of her breasts.
Her breathing hitched and she shook her head slightly, the realization sinking in that her necklace could easily have cost the price of a luxury car. “I couldn’t possibly…”
“You will, Chloe. You are my wife now,” he said brusquely, his thumbs tracing circles on her naked shoulders. “It is expected for you to appear the part.”
Appear the part. She swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with her new life, but it was difficult. The lifestyle being thrust upon her had never even been a fantasy for her. She was a waitress and until recently, a magazine columnist from Seattle. She lived paycheck to paycheck. Her only fantasy, maybe, had been to fall in love.
A lump formed in her throat and she closed her eyes against the sting of tears. Oh, she’d fallen in love, all right, but it just wasn’t quite as wonderful when the man you loved didn’t return the emotion.
Andrés slid his hand to her elbow. “Come, Chloe. The limo is downstairs.”
He hadn’t called her cariño in days, she realized. A moment’s panic hit. Would he ever touch her again intimately? Had she just become his wife and the mother of his child, legally bound but emotionally distanced?
They stepped out of Andrés’s hotel and into the waiting limo. The drive to the ball was made in silence. Andrés studied a file she hadn’t noticed him carrying earlier.
Her palms dampened and her pulse raced as the limo glided through the bright lights of Paris. She’d been warned about the paparazzi but knew nothing would be able to prepare her for an actual encounter.
When the limo pulled to a stop out front of another luxury hotel, her hands actually began to shake, worsening when she spotted the crowd full of photographers.
Andrés set down the file and glanced up at her. He must have sensed her nervousness, because his expression softened and he reached for her hand. With a light squeeze, he asked, “Ready?”
Some of her anxiety faded, just from his reassuring touch. It irked that she was so easily calmed by him. Lifting her chin, she gave him a brilliant smile. She would fake confidence even if it killed her. “Of course,” she lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Surprise and maybe a bit of admiration flickered in his eyes. He gave a slight nod.
Cameras flashed when the chauffer opened the door to the limo. Andrés’s expression again became unreadable, and he climbed out of the vehicle.
He reached a hand toward her and leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.
“And please, at least try to pretend that you’re in love with me, Chloe.”
Pretend? Right. She bit back a miserable, high-pitched giggle and allowed herself to be helped from the limo.
Andrés watched Chloe carefully as cameras flashed in an explosion of lights all around them. Despite her confident assurance that she was comfortable with facing the paparazzi, he’d seen her hands shaking in the limo. And now, the hint of panic flickering on her face as she stepped from the limo. He tightened his hand around hers and was rewarded by her hesitant smile.
She was lovely. Pride and desire rushed through him at how beautiful and poised Chloe appeared as she moved to his side. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling their bodies flush together so they could turn to face the paparazzi.
“Señor Montero, how is the hotel business?”
“Who is the new woman, Andrés?”
“Is it true that you were married recently, Andrés? Is this your wife?”
Questions were shot at them in rapid fire, spoken in various languages as flashes from cameras continued to explode.
Andrés lifted his hand to garner silence. Answering in English, he replied. “I would like to introduce you to Chloe Wilkinson, or as of yesterday, Chloe Montero—my wife.”
More questions followed, even more urgent and excited, and the camera flashes doubled in intensity. He glanced down at Chloe; another surge of pride hit his blood at her mesmerizing smile.
Her gaze lifted to his and a surprising tenderness, paired with respect, flickered in her eyes. For a moment it was just the two of them, and the air nearly sizzled with intensity and emotion.
His blood fired and his breath caught, while his heart pinched a bit. Oh, how he wanted her. When he’d first seen her in the hotel suite, he’d been sorely tempted to cancel tonight’s appearance and carry her off to bed.
And now, after having not touched her since their kiss in the courthouse at the end of their marital vows, he wanted her more than he could ever remember.
Knowing Chloe would assume it was just for the paparazzi, he caught her chin in his hand and lowered his mouth to take hers. Needing to taste the sweetness of her, if even just briefly.
Her palms moved to his chest and she gave a small moan of pleasure. Her body molded to him as her lips parted beneath his, and the tiny thread of control he maintained threatened to snap. Before he could give the paparazzi a most interesting story, he lifted his mouth from Chloe’s.
Her cry of protest was quiet enough for his ears only as she clutched the lapels of his tuxedo. When her eyes opened and she stared up at him, there was emotion so soft and intimate, with a hint of shyness, that he silently applauded her acting abilities on convincing the media they were in love. And for the briefest moment, he didn’t want it to be an act. But he refused to dwell on the unsettling realization.
“Thank you,” he called gruffly to the paparazzi. “Enough questions for now, I think.”
Moving a hand to the small of Chloe’s back, he guided her through the doors of the hotel to where the ball was already in session.
“You handled that quite well,” Andrés murmured.
Chloe wasn’t able to hold back the disbelieving laugh. It was amazing that she hadn’t fainted on the black carpet rolled out for the guests.
And then the way Andrés had kissed her in front of all the photographers… Her cheeks burned with the memory. She’d completely forgotten where she was and who was watching. All that had mattered was having him touching her again and being in his arms. A seed of hope had bloomed inside her with the way he’d kissed her. That maybe Andrés wasn’t putting on a show. That maybe he missed her, wanted her as much as she did him.
But hope faded when he switched easily back into business mode. She was smart enough to realize his kiss hadn’t been emotionally driven. It had been a calculated move to convince the paparazzi that they were madly in love.
She ran her palm over her stomach, reassured by the thought of their baby snuggled in her womb, and ran her gaze absently around the crowded room. Everywhere she looked, slender women wore expensive designer dresses and sparkled with jewels. The men looked dapper in their black tuxes. Overall, the crowd screamed of wealth and exclusivity.
As a waiter walked by a tray of champagne, she bit back a groan, wishing she could have a glass to settle her nerves.
“Andrés!”
Chloe took an unconscious step back as a red-haired woman with brilliant blue eyes sashayed over to him, but Andrés’ grip around her waist tightened.
“Danielle, how are you?” he murmured with a welcoming smile and kissed the woman’s smooth cheeks.
Jealousy slid through Chloe’s blood; she snapped her teeth together. Was this just another one of Andrés’ women? She curled her hands into fists to control her emotions, to keep a pleasant smile on her face, until the effort had her nearly piercing the skin of her palms with her nails.
“Danielle, may I introduce my wife, Chloe,” Andrés tone was lazy with amusement.
“No,” the woman gasped, her eyes widening in shock. “Andrés, you are married? Impossible!”
Chloe flushed, humiliation causing her cheeks to further heat. This just wasn’t right, having to attend a ball where she would doubtless meet countless past, or perhaps even present, lovers of her husband.
But as the woman’s gaze slid to hers, Chloe saw only curiosity and shock in her eyes.
“Chloe, may I introduce you to Danielle? I was best man to her husband at their wedding.”
Chloe went weak with relief that the other woman was not, and likely never had been, Andrés’s lover.
