‘That’s not very nice—to me or to them.’ And it made her feel as if he was using her. Just like Kirk had. Even though Hugh was being upfront about it rather than pretending he loved her, the way Kirk had, it still stung.
‘Given that you told me you were flaky and unreliable in your personal life, I think that’s a fair assessment.’
He had a point. Just. ‘It’s still not very nice,’ she said.
‘I didn’t expect you to go all Mary Poppins on me,’ he drawled.
She resisted the urge to slap him or to say something rude. Just. ‘That’s because you don’t know me very well. What do you want to achieve?’
He frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You said you want to annoy your family. What do you really want to happen?’
When he still looked blank, she sighed. ‘Look, you’re at point A and you clearly want to be at point B. What do you need to do to get from A to B, and is having a fake girlfriend really the most effective way to do it?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a bit sensible.’
‘Coming from me, you mean?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It doesn’t come from me, actually. It’s the way my sister looks at things.’
‘Your sister Grace? As in the woman who downed three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach...?’ he said, with mischievous emphasis.
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. ‘Don’t you dare be rude about my sister,’ she warned. ‘I already told you: that was really unlike her. It was due to special circumstances—and don’t bother asking what they were, because I’m not going to tell you. It’s none of your business.’
‘Absolutely,’ he said, disarming her. ‘Actually, I like the way you stand up for your sister. And you have a point.’
‘So why you do want to annoy your family?’ she asked.
‘This,’ he said, ‘is even more confidential than anything commercial I talk to you about.’
‘That’s obvious,’ she said, rolling her eyes at him. ‘You’re my boss, so anything you say to me in this room stays in this room unless you say otherwise.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Since you ask, the reason is because I’m sick and tired of them nagging me to settle down. So if I turn up to my brother’s engagement party with someone who looks completely unsuitable, maybe they’ll shut up and get off my case.’
She digested this slowly. He was saying she was unsuitable because of her hair? ‘So basically you’re asking me to play the kooky wild child. You want me to turn up with a mad hair colour, wearing ridiculous shoes and a skirt that’s more like a belt?’
‘What you wear is entirely up to you,’ he said. Then he looked thoughtful. ‘But, as you mentioned it first, yes, I think you probably have the chutzpah to carry off that kind of outfit.’
She still couldn’t quite work out if he was insulting her or praising her. Instead, she asked the other thing that was puzzling her. Well, apart from the fact that he was single. Even though he tended to be grumpy in the mornings in the office, she knew he had a good heart. He’d rescued her and Grace when they’d needed help, even though at the time they’d been complete strangers—and at the time it hadn’t felt as if there were any strings. Plus he had beautiful eyes and an even more beautiful mouth. The kind that made you want to find out what it felt like to be kissed by it.
She shook herself. That was something she shouldn’t be thinking about. ‘So why does your family want you to settle down?’
When he didn’t answer, she pointed out, ‘If you ask me to design something for you, then I need a brief to know what your target market is and what you want the design to achieve. I need to understand why before I can design something to suit. This is the same sort of thing. If I don’t understand why you want me to play someone unsuitable, I’m not going to be able to deliver the goods, am I?’
‘So you’ll do it?’
‘I didn’t say that. I still reserve the right to say no.’ If saying no was actually an option. Would her job depend on this? ‘But if you tell me why and I agree with your reasoning, then I might consider it.’ She spread her hands. ‘Anything you tell me is confidential. But I would also like to point out that I do have a social life, actually, and I did have plans for the weekend.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He raked a hand through his hair, suddenly looking vulnerable. Which was almost enough to make her agree to help him, regardless of his motives.
Weird.
Hugh Moncrieff was old enough and tough enough to look after himself. You didn’t get to be the successful owner of an independent record label if you were a pushover. He didn’t need looking after by anyone. But that expression in his eyes had touched a chord with her. It reminded her of the look in Grace’s eyes when she’d confessed that she didn’t fit in with Howard’s family and didn’t think she ever could. That she’d felt trapped and miserable.
Was that how Hugh felt about his own family?
And why did she suddenly want to rescue him, when she was usually the one who had to be rescued?
‘Of course you have a social life,’ he said. ‘And I don’t expect you to say “how high” every time I ask you to jump.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m glad that’s clear.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘And I know I’m out of order, asking you to play a part.’
‘It does make me feel a bit used,’ she admitted.
‘I don’t mean it quite like that. I need help to deal with a tricky situation.’
‘Just like I did—and you helped me, so it makes sense that I should return the favour.’ Put like that, she thought, his request was much more reasonable.
‘If it’s possible for you to change your plans for the weekend and you do agree to help me by being my date, just be yourself. That’ll do nicely.’
‘Because I’m unsuitable?’ she asked. Just when she’d started to feel OK about it, he’d made her feel bad again. Stupid. ‘That’s a bit insulting.’
‘That isn’t actually what I meant. You’re confident,’ he said. ‘You’re direct. You don’t play games.’
‘But you’re asking me to play a game. Well, play a part,’ she corrected herself. ‘Which is pretty much the same thing.’
‘I guess. I don’t mean to insult you, Bella. I apologise.’
‘Apology accepted.’ She paused. ‘So why do you need a date?’
He sighed. ‘I’m the youngest of four boys. The other three are all stockbrokers in the firm started by my great-grandfather. My family would very much like me to toe the line and follow suit.’
She winced. ‘Ouch. That’s what I called you on Friday. I said you looked like a stockbroker.’
‘I’m not one, and I never want to be one,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that it’s a bad career—just that it’s not right for me. My brothers love what they do, and that’s fine. I’d support them to the hilt, but I don’t want to join them.’ He gave her another of those wry smiles. ‘That’s why the label has its name.’
‘Got you. Insurgo’s Latin for “to rebel”.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And, no, I didn’t go to the sort of school that taught Latin. I looked it up on the internet. The only Latin I know is “lorem ipsum”—the stuff used as filler text in a design rough, and that’s not really proper Latin.’
He smiled back. ‘Actually, “lorem ipsum” is a mash-up of Cicero’s