Harlequin Presents--December 2019--Box Set 2 of 2 by Maisey Yates

Author:Maisey Yates
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWO

AN HOUR LATER Monet was outside, and the black car was where Marcu said it would be, parked in front of Bernard’s front doors. The driver appeared the moment she stepped outside, and he opened a large black umbrella to protect her from the flurries of snow. She murmured her thanks as she stepped into the car.

She glimpsed Marcu and held her breath, careful to keep a distance between them.

“So what exactly do you do here?” he asked, as the car pulled away from the curb, sliding into the stream of traffic.

She placed her purse on her lap, and rested her hands on the purse clasp. “Manage the department. Assist brides finding their dream gown. Keep mothers from overwhelming their emotional daughters.”

“An interesting choice for you, given your background.”

Her chin notched up. “Because my mother never married?” she asked, a dark elegant winged eyebrow arching higher.

Of course he’d find it ironic that she’d work as a bridal-gown consultant, but most people didn’t know her background. In fact, the only ones who knew her background were the father who’d never been part of her life and the Uberto family.

“Any problems closing?” he asked a moment later, his tone one of excessive politeness.

She nearly rolled her eyes. Surely they were beyond such superficial pleasantries. “No.”

“Were you working at Bernard’s when I reached out to you a few years ago?”

“I was. I’ve been there for four years now.”

“Why wouldn’t you see me when I reached out to you?” he asked.

Her shoulders lifted, and fell. “There was no point.” She turned her head, her gaze resting on his hard masculine profile illuminated by the streetlights. He had a perfect face—broad brow, straight, strong nose, wide firm lips, angled jaw, square chin. And yet it wasn’t the individual features that made him attractive, it was the way they came together—the quirk of his lips, the creases at the corner of his eyes, the blue gleam in his eyes. She steeled herself against the curve of his lips and the piercing blue of his eyes now. “Was there?”

“I don’t understand,” he answered simply.

“You were a married man. I was a single woman. I didn’t see what good could come of us meeting.”

“I wasn’t coming to you for sex.”

“How was I to know? Your father did.”

“What?”

She shrugged again, exhausted by the day, and his appearance. Her exhaustion made her careless. Why keep all these secrets? Why not tell the truth? “Your father approached me a year before you did. He came bearing gifts.”

“Your mother had just passed away. He was just being kind.”

“Then perhaps a casserole would have been proper. But roses? A pink satin robe? It was wildly inappropriate.”

“He gave my sisters a similar robe each for Christmas one year—pink, even. Why must you make his gift sound scandalous?”

Because he didn’t like me, Monet thought, turning her head to stare out the window, regretting her words. Why share such a thing with Marcu? Of course he wouldn’t believe her. He’d always worshipped his father. Matteo Uberto could do no wrong.

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