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“Then what? How did we meet? How long have we been together? What about the wedding? People will ask.”
She was right, of course. Nosiness knew no bounds in Corfu.
“We met in London, when I was there on business. You were holidaying.”
“I’ve never been to London.” A crease formed between her brows.
“What do you need to know? They have pubs and a big clock and the queen. That’s it.”
Her lip quirked. “Well, why bother even going after that detailed summary?”
He ignored the dig. “We’ve been together a year, engaged for three months. We didn’t want a big wedding so we did something private, here. No honeymoon because work is busy.”
“So romantic.” This time her voice held a note of bitterness.
“You want a honeymoon?”
She looked out of the window, the setting sun encasing her profile in golden light. “If we’re supposed to be in love, then it seems a little strange that we’re not going anywhere, doesn’t it?”
Maybe it did. For a fake marriage, he was doing an awful lot of “real” relationship activities. “What if I take you away for a weekend? Two days, that’s all my schedule can afford, and that should appease anyone who asks.”
It was risky, being alone with Marianna. Her presence was like a hum in his bloodstream, a constant niggle in his brain like the kind he couldn’t turn off whenever intuition bothered him. Only this wasn’t the same as when he got a feeling about a stock—it wasn’t the urge to act on something good or the desire to retreat from something bad. It was a new feeling entirely. And Nico didn’t like it one bit.
She turned to him and smiled. “Where should we go?” she asked.
“Paris. Milan. Wherever.” He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“How about we stay here and you show me around Corfu?”
He blinked. “You must be the only woman in the world who’s turned down international travel for her honeymoon in favor of staying at home.”
“Your home,” she corrected. “Not mine until recently. I know very little about Corfu. I don’t know where the best pastries are or which coast has the better view. I don’t know which restaurants the locals eat at, or where to buy my vegetables.”
“The chef buys our vegetables.”
She shot him a look that was the child of pity and judgement. Wait a minute, he’d offered her a fancy honeymoon overseas even though their relationship was 100 percent fake and she was acting like he was the one living a sheltered life. What the hell?
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m going to be living here thanks to our…arrangement, and I like to know my environment. I can’t find all these spots on my own, you know. They’ll mistake me for a tourist and send me to the places that charge too much for wine and pass the crappy cheese off as the good stuff.”
The fact that she was concerned about getting access to the good wine and cheese made him smile. Marianna appreciated her food. Her curvy body was testament to that, in the best way possible. His mind shot him into the past, remembering the way she’d pulled that damn white dress up over her head, those rounded thighs moving back and forth as she wriggled out of the fabric. She’d felt like heaven wedged against the side of his pool, his hands full of her rounded bottom as she’d come, gasping in shock.
Nico cleared his throat and tried to think of something that would turn him off. The last thing he needed were those big, soulful brown eyes staring at his crotch again.
“You want me to show you around for a weekend? That’s it?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ll give you a list of the things I’d like to know, and you can pick the places to take me.”
She’ll give me a list… He stared out of the window as the coastline rolled past. It wasn’t hard to see why she wanted to stay here for their “honeymoon.” With the sun low over an azure horizon, and the water shimmering like diamonds, it was a picture painted by God’s brush. Perfection.
It would have been easier to take her to Paris. Away from home, he could forget about all the things he didn’t want her to see, all the parts of himself that he planned to keep locked up tight. This was the red flag warning him that Dion was right. She was pushing for more.
Or was it only that she wanted to feel comfortable in her new home?
“Fine. A honeymoon at home it is.”
Marianna turned to her own window, but he didn’t miss her lip curving into a satisfied smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Chapter Ten
Dion’s backyard was filled to the brim with people. Glowing lanterns hung all around, and the air was heavy with laughter and conversation. Much of that conversation was about Marianna and Nico, she was sure of it. Thankfully no one had been too pushy when speaking to her, but the night was still young.
There was only so much longer she could pretend to drink a glass of champagne without getting caught tipping it into the plants behind her, however. Faking a history with Nico as well as faking not being pregnant was a lot for one evening.
