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“There’s been a mix-up.” Quinn stood between the two men, making her grateful she hadn’t pulled the referee duty herself. “I told my brother as much before we realized who Sofia was.”
Sofia couldn’t decide if she was more incensed that she’d been mistaken for a bride for hire or that one of them wanted to marry her based on a photo. But frustration was building and the walls damn well had ears. She peered around nervously.
“Who is she?” Cameron asked Quinn, setting the conspicuous velvet box on a nearby table. Sofia felt all the eyes of her fellow dancers drawn to it like a magnet even from halfway across the waiting area.
“Sofia Koslov, principal dancer with the New York City Ballet.” He passed Cameron his phone. He’d pulled up her photo and bio—she recognized it from the company web site. “Her father is the founder of Self-Sale, the online auction house, and one of the most powerful voices in Ukraine, where I’m trying to purchase that historic hotel.”
The two brothers exchanged a meaningful look, clearly wary of her father’s international influence.
While Cameron whistled softly and swiped a finger along the device’s screen, Sofia’s father looked ready to launch across the sofa and strangle him. Maybe her dad was regretting his choice of matchmaker already. Sofia certainly regretted his arrogant assumption that he could arrange her private life to suit him.
“You call that a mix-up?” Her father’s accent thickened, a sure sign he was angry. “Why the hell would you think she needed a green card when she is an American citizen?” Her father articulated his words with an edge as he got in Quinn McNeill’s face. “Do you have any idea how quickly I can bury your hotel purchase if I choose to, McNeill? If you think I’m going to let this kind of insult slide—”
“Of course not.” Quinn didn’t flinch. “We’ll figure out something—”
Sofia missed the rest of the exchange as Cameron leaned closer to speak to her.
“You’re really a ballerina?” He asked the question kindly enough, but there was a wariness in his eyes that Sofia had seen many times from people who equated “ballerina” with “prima donna.” Or “diva.”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, feeling defensive and wondering if Quinn could overhear them as he continued to speak in low tones with her father. The older brother drew her eye in a way men seldom did. And was it her tired imagination or did his gaze return to her often, as well? “I competed for years to move into a top position with one of the most rigorous and respected companies in the world.”
Men never apologized for focusing on their careers. Why should she?
Cameron nodded but made no comment. She sensed him rethinking his marriage proposal in earnest. Not that it mattered—obviously a wedding wasn’t happening. But how to dig herself out of this mess for the sake of the cameras and her peers? If she wasn’t so drained from the long flight and the demanding practice schedule of this tour, maybe her brain would come up with a plausible, graceful way to extricate herself.
She noticed the members of her dance troupe moving steadily closer, no doubt trying to overhear what was going on in this strange powwow. Every last one of them had their phones in hand. She could almost imagine the tweets.
Will Sofia Koslov be too busy with her new fiancé to give her full attention to Fortier?
The dance world would go nuts. A flurry of speculation would ensue. Would Fortier decide he didn’t want to work with a woman who didn’t devote all of her free time to dance?
Her stomach cramped as she went cold inside. That would be so incredibly unfair. But it didn’t take much to lose a lead role. It was all about what Fortier wanted.
“And you were not actively seeking a husband?” Cameron asked the question with a straight face.
Did he not realize she’d forgotten him completely? Her eyes ventured over to Quinn, hoping the man truly had an idea about how to fix this, the way he’d assured her father.
“No,” she told him honestly. “I didn’t even know my father had hired a matchmaker until shortly before we landed. He signed me up without permission.”
“Then I apologize, Ms. Koslov, if I’ve caused you any embarrassment in my haste to find a bride.” Cameron lifted her hand and put it to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of her knuckles. The gesture had the flair of a debonair flirt rather than any real sentiment. “My brother warned me not to rush into this. And, once again, it seems the ever-practical Quinn had a good point.”
He straightened as if to leave, making her realize she would be on her own to explain this to the reporters. And the dance community. But she didn’t blame Cameron. She blamed her father.
“You were really willing to marry someone without even talking to them?” She couldn’t imagine what would drive him to propose to a stranger out of the blue.
“I was leaving it in the hands of professionals.” He shrugged. “But next time, I will at least call the bride ahead of time. Good luck with your dancing, Sofia.” He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “Quinn’s flight doesn’t take off for a few hours. If you need help with the reporters, my brother has a gift for keeping a cool head. He’ll know what to do.”
“You’re...leaving?”
“I only came to the airport to see you. It’s Quinn who has a flight out.” He nodded toward his brother, who had captured the full attention of her father. “But he’ll come up with a plan to help you with the reporters first. He’s the expert at making the McNeills look good. I’m the brother who seems to stir up all the trouble.”
It didn’t occur to her to stop Cameron McNeill as he pivoted and stalked away from her, the necks of her traveling companions all craning to follow his progress through the airport terminal. She noticed other women doing the same thing.
But then, these McNeill men were uncommonly handsome.
The whole thing felt too surreal. And now the two reporters turned from the large windows on the other side of the terminal and headed her way again. The sick feeling returned in the pit of her stomach. She should have been using this time to come up with a plan. Maybe she could tell the reporters that the proposal had all been a joke?
Except she’d trip over any story she tried to concoct. Unlike her PR consultant, Sofia was not a master of putting the right spin on things. Besides, her colleagues’ words about her not dating still circled around in her head.
About her lack of passion.
What would they say now that her suitor had ditched her publicly?
Her father and Quinn McNeill converged on her.
“You should listen, Sofia. McNeill has a fair plan.” Vitaly nodded his satisfaction at whatever they’d decided.
Fear spiked in her chest as the reporters drew closer. These men didn’t understand her world or the backlash this little drama would cause. How could she win the part in the Fortier ballet while her whole dance company gossiped gleefully about her five-minute marriage offer?
“No. I will handle this.” She looked to Quinn McNeill. “I need to save face. To come up with something that doesn’t make it look like I’ve been jilted—” Hell, she didn’t know what she needed. She couldn’t even explain herself to Quinn. How would she ever make sense in front of the reporters?
Quinn’s blue eyes gave away exactly nothing. Whereas his younger brother was all charm and flirtation, this man’s level stare was impossible to read. He seemed at ease, however. He leaned closer to her to speak softly while her father discreetly checked his watch, positioning himself between her and the oncoming dancers.
“Your father is livid at my brother’s antics.” Quinn’s voice was like a warm stroke against her ear. It gave her a pleasant shiver in spite of her nervousness. “I’d like to appease him, but it’s more important to me that you’re not embarrassed by this. How can I help?”
She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Ideally, I’d like a fiancé for the next three weeks until I have a ballet part on lockdown.” As soon as the words tumbled out, of course, she realized that was impossible. Cameron McNeill was already gone.
But Quinn did not look deterred. He nodded.
“Whatever I say, please know that it’s just for show.” His hand landed on her spine, a heated touch that seeped right through her mohair cape. “We’ll give a decoy statement to the media and then you and I can iron out some kind of formal press release afterward. But I can have you happily engaged and out of here in less than five minutes. Just follow my lead.”
She didn’t even have time to meet his eyes and see for herself his level of sincerity, because the cameras were rolling again, the bright light in her eyes. Excited whispering from the other dancers provided an uncomfortable background music for whatever performance Quinn McNeill was about to give.
Strange that, when her reputation hung in the balance, the main thing she noticed was how his hand palmed the small of her back with a surety and command even a dancing master would appreciate.
Her father hung back as the flashing red light on the Nikon handheld swung her way. Blinking while her eyes adjusted, she thought she saw her father reclaim the velvet ring box Cameron had left behind and hand it to Quinn. Which made sense, she supposed. The brother of empty gestures left a diamond behind while the practical brother reclaimed it. Hadn’t Cameron assured her Quinn would take care of everything?
“Ladies.” Quinn’s voice took on a very different quality as he turned to the camera and the small audience of her colleagues who clutched their cell phones, surely eager to send out updates on this little drama. “Forgive me for spiriting away Sofia earlier. In my eagerness to see her again, I failed to remember her interview with the magazine. I didn’t mean for a private moment to be caught on film.”
Sofia could almost hear the collective intake of breath. Or was that her own? Her stomach twisted, fearing what he might say next while at the same time she couldn’t make herself interrupt. Like any strong partner, he led with authority.
Besides, he said it was only for show.
“Where is your brother?” one of the reporters asked. “He said he couldn’t wait to meet his bride.”
No doubt they’d all been surfing the internet to figure out who Cameron and Quinn were.
“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.
Three (#u80db06c7-5be6-5214-9efd-65dbc552ef8f)
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 watched her delicate wrists as she anxiously fumbled with the scarf. She hadn’t been this skittish back in the airport. Did he make her nervous? Or was she only allowing herself the show of nerves now that she was out of the spotlight?
He found himself curious about her even though he should be focusing on the details of their brief, pretend engagement and not ruminating on her life. Her kiss.
“You move in a competitive world.” It was something he understood from the business he managed outside of McNeill Resorts since his bigger income stream came from his work as a hedge fund manager. His every financial move was watched and dissected by his rivals and second-guessed by nervous investors.
“The competition led me to hire a PR firm at my own expense, which is costly, considering a dancer’s salary. But they secured the feature for me in Dance magazine.”
He had no idea what a professional ballerina earned, but the idea that she’d hired a publicity firm suggested a strong investment in her career. Quinn found it intriguing that she would pay for that herself considering her father’s wealth.
That wasn’t all he found intriguing. The spike of attraction he felt for her—a heat that had intensified with that kiss—surprised him. He’d been adamantly opposed to his grandfather’s marriage ultimatum and yet he’d found himself jumping into the fray today to claim Sofia for his own.
Not just for McNeill Resorts. Also so Cameron couldn’t have her.
As soon as he’d seen her today, he’d felt an undeniable sexual interest. No, hunger.
“I realize that my brother created an awkward situation and you have every right to be frustrated.”
“And yet you helped me out of a tricky situation when I was tongue-tied and nervous, so thank you for that.” She settled her hands in her lap and stared out the window at the businesses lining either side of Interstate 17 heading south toward Manhattan. “I have a difficult audition ahead of me and I know I wouldn’t have been able to focus on it if the debacle in the airport was the topic on everyone’s lips.” She gave him a half smile. “If I didn’t have a fiancé, everyone would badger me about what happened. But since I actually do? I don’t think anyone will quiz me about it. Sadly, my competitors are more interested in my failures than my successes.”
He understood. He just hoped her father would support her wishes regarding their charade.
“Yet tonight’s events leave you a loophole, Sofia, if you want to give a statement that you refused me.” He hadn’t thought about it until now, but just because he’d implied he was asking for her hand didn’t mean she would necessarily accept. “If you change your mind about this, I can have someone work on a statement for the press that expresses my admiration for you, my disappointment in your refusal—”
“Expedient for you, but not for me.” She tipped her head to the window, her expression weary. He noticed the pale purple shadows beneath her eyes. “Just because I issue a statement that says it’s over doesn’t mean there won’t be questions about my love life given the backstabbing in my company this season. An abrupt breakup when everyone wants a story could make the press start digging into how we met. And until I know the truth about where Cameron got my contact information, I’m not comfortable letting the media look too closely at how we connected. I never wanted anything to do with a matchmaker, and I’m concerned that whoever my father hired posted my information in a misleading way. I don’t understand why your brother thought I was Ukrainian. Or why he didn’t know I was a dancer.”
“We could work on a cover story—”
