What The Magnate Wants: The Magnate's Mail-Order Bride / The Magnate's Marriage Merger / His Accidental Heir. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“My brother was teasing. Cameron hadn’t met Sofia yet and, in the way brothers sometimes do...” He deployed a charming grin of his own, one even more disarming than his brother’s had been, only now she realized how practiced the gesture could be. “Cam only said that to rattle me on the day he knew I was going to ask her something very important myself.”
Quinn turned to her now, his blue eyes locking on her with an intensity that speared right down to her belly to stir an unexpected heat. Even when she knew with one hundred percent certainty it was all an act.
“He just so happened to have a ring in his pocket?” the reporter asked, gaze narrowed to search out the truth.
“I had no idea he brought an old ring of our mother’s from home,” Quinn continued easily. “Then he grabbed some flowers from the customer service desk.” He pointed out a half-empty vase nearby. “Trust me when I tell you, my brother doesn’t lack for a sense of humor—a somewhat twisted one.”
Even Sofia found herself wondering about his story. Quinn looked convincing enough, especially when he gazed down at her as if she was the only woman in the world.
She licked her lips, her mouth gone suddenly dry. She should say something. Prevent this farce that no one would ever believe. But then again...hadn’t she promised herself she would make this a performance worth watching?
A show of passion?
“Now—” his gaze never left hers even as he continued to address the media “—I am going to ask you to check Ms. Koslov’s schedule for a new interview time tomorrow. Because tonight, we have something private and wonderful to celebrate.”
Somewhere behind that bright light the camerawoman gave a quiet squeal of excitement while someone else—a colleague from the ballet company, no doubt—made a huff of disappointment. That the story hadn’t panned out how she’d wanted? Or that she’d have to wait until tomorrow for answers? A few people clapped halfheartedly. The dancers who had hoped for a scandal were clearly disappointed while Sofia wondered how she’d ever dared to ask Quinn McNeill for a temporary fiancé. She couldn’t believe he’d granted her wish.
And not with his brother but with Quinn himself as her fake groom.
The cameras captured every moment of this absurd dance as she clutched the bouquet in one hand while Quinn tucked the mysterious black-velvet box into the other. Then, leaving no doubt as to his meaning, he slanted his lips overs hers and kissed her.
Normally, Quinn McNeill knew how to stick to the talking points. He’d delivered enough unwelcome news to investors during his father’s failed tenure as the McNeill Resorts’ CEO that Quinn had a knack for staying on script.
But all bets were off, it seemed, when an exotic beauty fit into his arms as if she’d been made for him. One moment he’d been delivering the cover story to explain Cam’s behavior and still give Sofia Koslov a fiancé. The next, he was drowning in her wide gray eyes, her full lips luring him into a minty-flavored kiss that made the mayhem of the airport fade away.
This was so not the plan he’d come up with to smooth over business relations with Sofia’s ticked-off and powerful Ukrainian father. He’d told Vitaly Koslov he would publicly apologize and explain away the proposal as a joke between friends. But when Quinn had seen the panic on Sofia’s face, he’d known his only option was to help her in whatever way she needed.
Although, it occurred to him as he kissed her...
What if she’d meant she wanted that fake engagement with his brother?
Forcing himself to edge back slowly, Quinn peered down at her kissed-plump lips and flushed cheeks. She couldn’t have possibly meant she wanted anything to do with Cameron. Not after that kiss.
Still, he’d just complicated things a whole lot by claiming her as his own.
“So you’re engaged to Ms. Koslov?” one of the reporters asked him while the other one flipped off the power button on her camera.
“A full statement will be issued tomorrow morning,” Vitaly Koslov snapped before Quinn could respond, the older man’s patience clearly worn thin as he shot a dark glare at Quinn.
The hotel deals he was working on in Kiev and Prague were now seriously compromised. The man had threatened to block the sales by any means necessary if Quinn didn’t smooth things over with the media, and Quinn was guessing that taking Cameron’s place as Sofia’s suitor wasn’t what Vitaly Koslov had in mind.
Right now, however, Quinn had promised the man to get his daughter out of the terminal and home as quickly and privately as possible.
“Come with me,” Quinn whispered in Sofia’s ear, a few strands of silky hair brushing his cheek as he bent to shoulder her bag for her. “Your father will divert them. We are too happy and in love to pay attention to anyone else.”
He started walking toward the exit, hoping she would continue to play her part in this charade. She did just that, moving with quick, efficient steps and glancing up at him in a way that was more than just affectionate.
Hell. Those gazes sizzled.
“How fortunate we are,” she muttered dryly. Her tone was at odds with the way she was looking at him, making him realize what a skilled actress she was.
Had the kiss been for show, too? He liked to think he could tell the difference.
“I regret that we have to do this. I hope my brother at least had the decency to apologize before he made his escape.” Quinn had already texted his pilot to reschedule his own flight, a delay that would add to the considerable expense of closing this deal that might never happen anyhow.
He held the door for Sofia and flagged the first limo he spotted, handing off her luggage to the driver to stow. The wind plastered her cape to Quinn’s legs, bringing with it the faint scent of a subtle perfume.
“He did apologize.” She tucked the mohair wrap tighter around herself, waiting on the curb while the driver opened the door and she relayed the address of her apartment. “He told me he was sorry right before he assured me you’d take care of everything.” She slid to the far side of the vehicle, distancing herself from him. “Tell me, Quinn, how often do you step in to claim his discarded fiancées?”
He understood that she was frustrated, so he told himself not to be defensive.
“This would be a first,” he replied lightly, taking the seat on the opposite side of the limo. “I tried to talk him out of hunting for a wife in this drastic manner, but he was determined.”
The driver was already behind the wheel and steering the vehicle toward the exit. Darkness had fallen while they were inside the terminal.
“It would not have been so awkward if there hadn’t been any media present.” She seemed to relax a bit as she leaned deeper into the leather seat, pulling the pink scarf off her neck to wrap it around one hand. “Then again, maybe it would have been since I had the rest of the dance ensemble with me and there are those who would love nothing more than a chance to undermine my position in the company.”
“Your father told me that you were recently promoted to principal.” He only had a vague knowledge of the ballet, having attended a handful of events for social purposes. “Does that always put a target on a dancer’s back?”
“Only if your name is mentioned for a highly sought-after part in a new ballet to premiere next year. Or if you rise through the ranks too quickly. Or if your father sponsors a gala fund-raiser and angles for you to be featured prominently in the program.” She wound the scarf around her other hand, weaving it through her fingers. “Then, no matter how talented you are, the rumor persists that you only achieved your position because of money.”
In the glow from the streetlights, he