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“It’s already working.” He pulled away, a smug smile on his handsome face.
“But how did they know...” Her voice trailed off. “You called the media.”
His grin turned even cockier. “I didn’t. But some strategic phone calls from my secretary in Rome may have hinted at a possible change in plans for the beautiful woman who landed in my lap last night.”
She couldn’t help it; she laughed.
He winked. The small gesture twisted her heart, reminding her of the boy who had been such an incredible friend in her darkest hour. Was he still there, behind this cool façade?
“Once we get inside, we can further discuss our plans.”
“Yes, sir,” she responded with a salute. “Do you have maps? Intel on the reporters?”
He cast a suspicious glance her way as he led her inside. “Were you always this feisty and I just missed it?”
“No. I think I...”
Anna’s mouth dropped open as they walked into the hotel. She took in the marble floor made up of swirling whites and creams, the pale colors and soft peach-colored walls glowing beneath the stunning chandelier hanging from the two-story ceiling. A white desk dominated the back wall, framed between two pots overflowing with bougainvillea. A magnificent staircase on either side of the room led up to a balcony overlooking the foyer.
“Antonio,” she breathed, “this is magnificent.”
“Signor Cabrera?”
Anna looked up as a tall, tanned man with an elaborately stylized moustache, wearing khaki slacks and a white polo, appeared on the balcony.
“Yes, Paul?”
“Shall I escort Signorina Vega to the room?”
“No, thank you. I’ll show her myself.”
Excitement danced up her spine. If the lobby alone was this fantastic, she could only imagine what the rooms looked like.
“Which room will I be staying in?”
Antonio looked at her, his face smoothing out until it was the unreadable mask he’d sported last night.
“Mine.”
CHAPTER NINE
ANTONIOWATCHEDASAnna drifted to the edge of the balcony, her hands settling on the railing as she gazed out over the sea. She looked toward the reddish glow on the horizon, her profile in stark relief against the deep blue waves turning black.
He was a masochist to torture himself like this. When he’d suggested the idea of a fake relationship, it had seemed like a brilliant solution to both their problems. And when he’d spied the photographer on the beach, he’d seized the opportunity to kick off their charade. What better way to start the articles rolling than to be spied welcoming his paramour to his private hotel?
Yet when he’d pulled Anna into his arms, the alarm bells that had been dinging softly in his mind trilled into a full-blown cacophony. His blood had roared as his arms had closed around her tall, slender frame.
His hands fisted. He thought through everything with razor precision. His first property, a stunning resort in the French Riviera, had been on the verge of collapse when his father had tasked him with saving it. Visits to his competitors, frank conversations with numerous luxury travelers he’d wined and dined in the finest restaurants across Europe and, finally, a cohesive plan that addressed everything from room renovations to grounds-keeping to marketing, had led to profits in the first year that had impressed even his Javier. His subsequent successes had followed the same pattern, from burgeoning commercial real estate sales that he’d turned over to trusted parties last year to his ultimate pride. His hotels.
When he followed the rules, he achieved success.
But with Anna, he’d thrown all those rules out the window. He’d made a split-second decision that morning. Had he thought it through, he would have put more guidelines in place for how they would conduct their farce. Or he would have carried out a more accurate analysis of his physical response to Anna and realized the payoff wasn’t worth it.
She moved closer to one of the pillars and tilted her head up and closed her eyes as she breathed in the scent of wisteria clinging to the column before walking back to the doorway that led into his chambers. Her gaze roamed over the room.
“It’s not what I would expect for a billionaire businessman,” she finally said.
“Oh?”
