Her pulse scampered.
Actually, it wasn’t a sofa...it was a loveseat—presumably because couples who were in love were happy to cosy up to one another. But Achileas wasn’t in love with her, and she wasn’t in love with him—thankfully.
Her heart gave a little shiver of pity for the woman who actually fell in love with Achileas Kane. Not because he was prepared to lie to his father in this way. Sometimes white lies were necessary. They were even forgivable if it meant that they prevented pain or additional suffering. No, what scared her was the ruthlessness and determination that simmered beneath that superbly tailored suit. The relentlessness that was almost elemental. Like a river of molten lava or a hurricane tearing up a city.
He was a man who was used to winning, to getting his own way. A man who didn’t understand the concept of no. Her breath trembled in her throat. He made it sound so simple. Marriage for money. And she could see how it might work in theory. But in practice...?
She glanced across the room, her stomach clenching as her gaze settled on the portrait. Who are you? Achileas had asked her that question and there was the answer. Small regular features. Straight brown hair. Serious brown eyes. Fresh-faced. Forgettable. Utterly unremarkable.
In other words, not the kind of woman a man like Achileas Kane would ever notice, much less marry.
She bit into her lip. Anybody looking at them would have that exact same thought. That had been true when he’d cannoned into her outside the Stanmore, and it would stay true. This whole idea was crazy. She didn’t even know why they were discussing it.
So why was the conversation still going on? Why had she even let him into her flat? Her insides tightened, blooming with a heat that was unfamiliar and seductive. Discomforting.
‘Effie?’
Her name on his lips pulled her in and she turned to face him, the heat spreading to her cheeks.
Hewas why.
He affected her. He was like the most delicious, irresistible scent teasing her senses, and just for a moment she closed her eyes and breathed him in, let herself be swept away to a Mediterranean island—
But it was time to put the stopper back in the bottle.
Achileas Kane might be a man who didn’t understand the meaning of no, but he was going to have to learn. Because he was wrong about her. She couldn’t do this even if he could.
She took a breath to steady her nerves. ‘Thank you for bringing back my folder, but I think I’ll take my chances with the bank.’
He stared at her, his gaze rolling over her like an ocean wave. ‘I think that would be a mistake.’
She shook her head. ‘No, what would be a mistake would be trying to make this work.’
‘It will work,’ he said stubbornly, as she had known he would.
And then he pushed up from the sofa and rose, the simple movement carrying with it such an extraordinary impression of power that she took a step backwards. As he stopped in front of her, she felt breathless and off-balance. She had never been confronted by anyone with such a sense of purpose.
‘It will work because my father will see what he wants to see.’
‘And what if he guesses the truth?’ she asked quietly.
‘He won’t,’ he said, looking down at her, his fierce certainty buffeting her so that she had to dig her heels into the carpet to stop herself from stumbling backwards. ‘How could he?’
‘Easily,’ she said quietly, heat breaking out on her skin as his eyes locked onto hers.
Did she need to spell it out?
‘You can’t really think that anyone will believe we’re a couple? Especially your father—the man who raised you.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m not exactly your type, am I?’
There was a short, jangling pause, and then his gaze darkened and narrowed in on hers. ‘Not historically, no. But I wasn’t looking for a wife before.’
He wasn’t looking for one now. Not a real one. Only at some point, if she agreed to this, she would have to act like a wife. They would have to look as if they were in love. Not in private, but in public, they would have to look and talk and touch like lovers.
But how could she do that when she had never been in love? Never been intimate with a man.
Her breath frayed in her throat. ‘We can’t just tell people we love each other. We’ll have to show them. And—’
His gaze narrowed fractionally. ‘And what?’ he prompted.