Chapter 1 - THE MAN EVERYONE KNEW
Giovanni Fierro’s hand was warm around mine.
His other hand rested lightly against my waist as he guided me toward the center of the ballroom.
I expected people to stare because I was dancing with a stranger.
I did not expect the entire room to change.
A waiter carrying champagne slowed until another server nearly walked into him.
Two men near the bar stopped talking.
An older woman beside the dance floor reached for her husband’s arm.
Even Sophia’s wedding photographer turned his camera away from the bride and toward us.
I looked up at Giovanni.
“What exactly did I just agree to?”
“One dance.”
“That is not what everyone else seems to think.”
His eyes remained calm.
“That is because Chicago enjoys gossip.”
“This feels bigger than gossip.”
“It usually does when my family is involved.”
Across the ballroom, Tyler stood beside Vanessa.
He had one hand around a whiskey glass.
The glass had stopped halfway to his mouth.
Vanessa’s face was even more interesting.
Three minutes earlier, she had been smiling like she had won something.
Now she was staring at Giovanni as though she had just discovered the person she mocked was standing beside a loaded cannon.
Giovanni turned me smoothly beneath his arm.
I nearly missed a step.
He steadied me immediately.
“I warned you not to let go.”
“You also forgot to mention that half the ballroom seems terrified of you.”
“Not terrified.”
A man at the nearest table abruptly looked away when Giovanni glanced toward him.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
Giovanni almost smiled.
“Respectful.”
“That man looked like he forgot how to breathe.”
“He owes my company money.”
“That explains absolutely nothing.”
“It explains him.”
The orchestra continued playing.
I became painfully aware of my repaired shoes.
The left heel had been glued twice.
My navy dress had cost forty-eight dollars on clearance.
My earrings were costume jewelry Sophia had loaned me that morning.
Giovanni looked like he had stepped out of a magazine advertisement for things normal people could never afford.
His black tuxedo fit perfectly.
His watch probably cost more than my annual salary.
Yet he had not looked at my shoes.
He had not looked at my dress.
He had looked at my face.
That bothered me more than Tyler’s insults.
I was accustomed to being judged.
I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen.
“You said you needed an ally,” I whispered.
“I do.”
“From whom?”
“My mother.”
I stared at him.
Giovanni’s expression remained perfectly serious.
“You’re afraid of your mother?”
“I did not say afraid.”
“What does she want?”
“For me to marry Isabella Moretti.”
“Who?”
He gently turned me toward the far side of the room.
A beautiful woman in an emerald gown stood beside a silver-haired couple.
She looked about thirty-five.
Perfect posture.
Perfect hair.
Perfect diamonds.
And she was staring at me.
“That is Isabella.”
“She looks angry.”
“She has been informed for three years that our marriage is inevitable.”
“By you?”
“No.”
“By her?”
“No.”
“Then who decided?”
“Our families.”
I nearly laughed.
“You’re forty-something years old.”
“Forty-one.”
“And your mother is arranging dates for you?”
“Marriage.”
“That is worse.”
“Yes.”
I glanced again at Isabella.
She lifted her champagne glass slowly.
Her smile contained absolutely no warmth.
“So you decided to invent a wife.”
“I decided to create a complication.”
“You picked a complete stranger.”
“No.”
My eyes returned to his.
“You knew my name.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He was silent for several seconds.
Then he said something I did not expect.
“Five years ago, you saved my nephew’s life.”
I stopped moving.
Giovanni caught me before my heel slipped.
“What?”
“Children’s emergency department at St. Catherine’s.”
My mind raced backward.
Five years of pediatric nursing.
Thousands of frightened parents.
Thousands of sick children.
“His name?”
“Mateo.”
The room disappeared around me for one stunned second.
I remembered him.
Six years old.
Severe allergic reaction.
His airway closing while his mother screamed.
The attending physician had been across the floor responding to another emergency.
I had administered the medication from the standing emergency protocol and helped stabilize him before the physician arrived.
“Mateo Fierro.”
Giovanni nodded.
“He remembers you.”
“I remember him.”
“You sat beside his bed after your shift ended because he was afraid his mother would disappear if he fell asleep.”
My throat tightened.
“He kept asking whether his mom was still there.”
“She was my younger sister.”
I looked at him differently then.
“You were at the hospital?”
“I arrived later.”
“I don’t remember you.”
“You were asleep.”
“What?”
“In a chair outside his room.”
My face heated.
“That sounds professional.”
“You had worked fourteen hours.”
“Twelve.”
“Fourteen.”
“You checked?”
His gaze held mine.
“I remember people who help my family.”
The orchestra softened.
Tyler was still watching.
Giovanni lowered his voice.
“Your former husband remembers people according to what they can do for him.”
I stiffened.
“How do you know Tyler?”
“I know his company.”
That answer landed harder.
Tyler had started working for Whitmore Development two years after leaving me.
He had climbed quickly.
Director of acquisitions.
Then vice president.
He loved telling everyone that he would make partner before forty.
“What about it?”
“Whitmore Development is trying to buy six blocks near the river.”
“I don’t follow real estate.”
“You should tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because my company owns four of those blocks.”
My stomach dropped.
Before I could respond, the song ended.
Applause rippled through the room.
It felt strangely loud after the silence.
Giovanni did not release my hand.
Neither did I.
Then Tyler started walking toward us.
Vanessa followed.
So did the silver-haired couple standing beside Isabella.
Giovanni’s mouth tightened almost invisibly.
“Complications arriving from both directions.”
“That woman’s family?”
“Yes.”
“And mine.”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
“You can still walk away.”
I looked at Tyler approaching with that familiar expression.
The one he used whenever he believed he deserved an explanation.
Then I saw Vanessa.
My cousin.
The woman who had known exactly how terrified I was when Tyler left.
The woman who had brought casseroles to my apartment while I was pregnant.
The woman who had eventually stopped answering my calls.
The woman who married him three years later.
I tightened my fingers around Giovanni’s hand.
“No.”
His eyes shifted toward me.
“No?”
“I’m tired of walking away.”
Something changed in Giovanni’s face.
Not surprise.
Approval.
Tyler reached us first.
“Jessica.”
I said nothing.
His attention moved to Giovanni.
“Mr. Fierro.”
Giovanni nodded once.
“Mr. Brennan.”
Tyler’s face changed when Giovanni remembered his name.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“I’m Vanessa Brennan.”
“I know.”
Her smile weakened.
“Of course.”
Tyler looked at our joined hands.
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
Giovanni answered before I could.
“My wife and I value our privacy.”
My lungs forgot their job.
Vanessa’s mouth opened.
Tyler actually laughed.
It came out wrong.
“Your what?”
Giovanni lifted my hand.
His thumb brushed lightly across my knuckles.
“My wife.”
The silver-haired woman behind us gasped.
Isabella Moretti’s father went completely still.
And Tyler looked at me as though the floor had disappeared beneath him.
“You’re married?”
I should have corrected Giovanni.
I should have laughed.
I should have said this was ridiculous.
Instead, I remembered Tyler throwing my apartment, my job, my shoes, and my daughter into my face like evidence that my life had failed.
I looked directly into his eyes.
“Apparently, I forgot to send you an invitation.”
Giovanni’s quiet laugh was the first warm sound I had heard all night.
May you like
But across the ballroom, my mother had risen from her chair.
And the expression on her face told me the fake marriage had just become a very real family emergency.
