Right. He’d said France. She should have remembered, but she was exhausted and distracted by everything. As she sank into the buttery leather, she bit her lip. “For how long?”
He shrugged. “A few days, a week? Hard to say.”
A week. She frowned. As long as she could be back home for her father’s surgery, it would be okay.
William had been calling Stephen and the pilot and whoever else he’d needed to call. Gabi had only made two calls. One to her sister, and then one to her parents.
On the first call she’d been completely honest and apologized to Giulia for leaving her stranded. Giulia said the Pembertons were looking after her and not to worry. Of course that was what Giulia would say. She was the peacemaker of the family and would do anything to avoid conflict.
Her parents had been another story. She’d lied to them, and it had hurt. She’d perpetuated the story of her illness and setting a new date. The illness angle kept the call mercifully brief. The guilt, however, had settled like a lead weight in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure it could ever be dislodged. She’d done so much more than lie to them today. She’d thrown away the chance to save their company. If she couldn’t manage in her father’s absence, they might have to sell, which would break his heart. Going into an early retirement was not his plan at all. The partnership with Aurora would have kept it financially stable while he went through his treatments and recovered. She was twenty-eight years old and held an accounting degree—how was she supposed to manage the entire company and navigate it through a tough economy?
Her throat closed over with emotion. She was going to disappoint people, and that hurt her heart.
“What are you thinking?” William asked, sitting across from her and reaching for his seat belt.
“I’m thinking that I’ve ruined everything. My parents...my arrangement with Stephen would have kept everything going and kept the company in my father’s name. Now we’re probably going to have to sell.” She met William’s gaze. “I feel like the most selfish woman on the planet. Even though deep down I know marrying Stephen would have been wrong.”
“Would it have been so bad? Being a countess?”
“Maybe you don’t believe me, but I don’t care about those things. What is being a countess when one is miserable? Not that your brother is awful,” she hurried to add. “But I’m not in love with him, and I can’t imagine being married to someone I don’t love. Even temporarily. I thought I could, but...” She turned away. “Oh, maybe I’m just naive. I probably sound silly and stupid.”
“No, not that,” William said. “I’m mad at you about the mess. But personally, I agree with you. The engagement was foolish. I can’t actually believe that Stephen came up with the idea. He doesn’t usually buckle to pressure. Not even from our mother.”
The plane began to taxi down the runway and Gabi fastened her seat belt across her hips. “He loves her, and he loved his father. She’s grieving for Cedric so much. He wanted to give her hope. A wedding and...and a baby. A grandchild to carry on her husband’s legacy. Is that so bad?” Stephen had made a compelling case. Plus she’d always liked him. They’d first met three years ago. She’d been working with the Baresi accountant with the goal of taking over the financial aspect of the business eventually, and Stephen had been looking in on Aurora suppliers as he took on more responsibility within the company. Stephen had been charming and kind and they’d become friends. On his last trip, she’d confessed her worries to him over a glass or two...or maybe three...of Chianti. He’d come up with the plan.
And he’d said he trusted her because they were friends.
Her cheeks heated, though. Perhaps that was the clincher in the whole decision, really. A marriage of convenience she might have been able to go through with. But bearing Stephen’s child... She wanted children, of course she did. Very much. And Stephen was an honorable man who would honor his promises. But...
But. It always came down to the lack of actual love between them. It was completely platonic on her end, and she suspected on his, too. It was the one thing she couldn’t talk herself around.
“It’s not bad, as an idea. As a plan, though, it’s very... I don’t know. Like something out of those period dramas that Charlotte loves to watch.”
His twin sister, Charlotte, was a doll. “I like your family very much,” she said softly. “They’ve been very good to me. They must hate me right now.”
“As far as they know, you’ve broken Stephen’s heart and caused a scandal.”
“Are you always so blunt?”
“Yes.” But he smiled a little, and a light flickered in his eyes. “There isn’t much room for misinterpretation when one speaks clearly and honestly.”
“I’m not sure if I like it or not. But I thank you for not yelling at me. Or being...too angry.”
They reached altitude and William unbuckled his seat belt and rose, moving to the onboard bar. He took out two glasses and poured a good splash of cognac in each. As he handed her the wide-bowled glass, he smiled. “I think you both dodged a bullet today. This, darling, is simply controlling the story. A week or so in Provence will keep you hidden away from the paparazzi. After that, you can set a new date.” She was about to protest when he held up his free hand. “A date which will never happen. After an appropriate amount of time, the wedding will be quietly called off, you’ll go your separate ways and that will be that.”
So neat and tidy. Should she be grateful that William was taking care of all of it, or angry at having her life dictated yet again? “And what about Baresi Textiles?” she asked, lifting her chin.
He took a healthy sip of his cognac and lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll have to ask Stephen his plans. And maybe wait until his pride’s not in the toilet.”
She sipped her drink, and it made her feel warm and slightly drowsy. She and William didn’t talk anymore. He had taken out his phone and kept rapidly typing in messages. She was unbearably curious, and kept sliding glances his way.
He looked a little like his brother, but there was a difference, too, in the square set of his jaw. His hair was dark brown and cut short and neat, and if he would smile more his eyes would soften from a hard, cold golden brown to something that made her think of waving grasses in autumn fields, a little green, a little brown, but never quite one or the other. Right now he was still in his tuxedo trousers and shirt, though he’d undone the cuffs and rolled up the sleeves, and ditched the tie. The unbuttoned collar drew her eyes to a V of skin, right at the hollow of his throat.
She guessed him to be somewhere around six feet, and like the rest of his family, he had a lean legginess that led to a trim waist and a broader chest and shoulders.
All in all, the Pembertons were a good-looking family, and William was no exception.
It would have been so much easier if she could have actually loved Stephen. But then, he didn’t want to be loved, so it didn’t really matter.