What The Magnate Wants: The Magnate's Mail-Order Bride / The Magnate's Marriage Merger / His Accidental Heir

“Sofia.” He kissed her neck below her ear, bit the tender earlobe just above her earring and forced himself to lean back. “We’re here.”

Eight (#u80db06c7-5be6-5214-9efd-65dbc552ef8f)

Games and lies, Sofia reminded herself later that night while Quinn fielded another question about their relationship from the reporter who wanted to do a follow-up interview with her and her fiancé. They were seated in a private room off the skylight lounge where City Ballet was holding the party for Idris Fortier, the music from a chamber orchestra filtering in through the open door along with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses and the rumble of conversation.

The space was crowded and warm, especially for those who danced.

Or those who were overwrought with the sensual steam of longing.

Quinn and Sofia had been dealing in games and lies all week, so she could hardly be upset with her handsome, charming date for spinning a moving tale about how he fell in love watching her dance. She’d signed off on the story, after all. She’d agreed that it was easier to root the lies in some element of truth so they had shared memories to trot out at moments like this.

How could she fault Quinn now for being a much better liar than her, especially since she was the one who’d pressed for the pretend engagement?

“But I won’t take the focus away from Sofia’s dancing,” Quinn was saying as they sat side by side on a black leather sofa in the sparse, modern room full of bistro tables and areas for private conversations. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll let her finish up the interview.” He turned toward her, his tuxedo not showing a single crease as he stood and kissed her hand. “Save me the first dance when you finish?”

His blue eyes had a teasing light. It bothered her that he was good at this, rousing suspicions of his motives no matter that he claimed to be attracted to her.

“Of course. Thank you.” She smiled up at him, playing her part but knowing she wasn’t as skilled as he was. And her body still hadn’t completely recovered from the kisses in the limousine.

If he hadn’t pulled away when he had back in the vehicle, she would have sacrificed the most beautiful gown she’d ever worn to press herself against all that raw masculine strength and follow where the attraction led.

“Your future husband was one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, Sofia,” the reporter—Delaney—observed. The woman’s eyes followed Quinn as he strode out the open door into the party in the lounge. “The McNeill heirs are rich, charming and exceedingly good-looking.” She tore her eyes from Quinn as she picked up her digital tablet where she’d been taking notes. “His brother must have made quite an impression on you when he proposed at the airport. But I’m surprised you dated Quinn for so long without meeting Cameron? Cameron tends to be the most visible of the three.”

Sofia fought back nerves, not wanting to drop the ball after Quinn had set her up so skillfully to talk about something else.

“That may be, but I don’t have much time outside of ballet for socializing. What time I do have, I spend with Quinn. But I’d prefer to talk about work, if you have any questions for me.”

Delaney pursed her lips in a frown.

“Very well.” She changed screens on the tablet. “Perhaps you’d like to address your critics. Your work has been called mechanical and without artistry. What makes you think you will capture the leading role in the Fortier project when the choreographer is such a decided fan of mood and emotion in his work?”

The biting tone of the query told Sofia just how much she’d accidentally offended the reporter by asking to change the subject. Maybe she should have asked Jasmine to be here for this follow-up interview to help smooth over awkward moments and ensure Sofia didn’t embarrass herself. But it cost enough just to have Jasmine set up these kinds of appointments, and she had attended a video interview earlier in the week.

The upside of all the press coverage was that she ought to have a great feature piece by the time they were finished, right?

“I strive every day to balance the physical demands of the dance with all the artistry I can bring to each piece. I hope that I’m always improving on both fronts. An artist should always aspire to improve.” She should explain how. Give the reporter more to work with. Except that her nerves had returned in full force.

“And what is your impression of Mr. Fortier so far?” the woman asked, tapping her stylus on the tablet.

Was she waiting for the quotable bit that would torch Sofia’s career for daring to stick to the topic?

“I have the same impression everyone else has. He’s a brilliant talent and our company is extremely fortunate to work with him.” She couldn’t believe she’d invited this woman to her private audition with Fortier.

The last thing she needed was to be nervous on that day, too. She was usually so solid when she danced. She didn’t need Delaney getting in her head.

“Are you aware that his last two featured leads have moved in with him during the creative process?” The woman watched Sofia’s reaction closely. “That he was romantically linked to both of them?”

She hadn’t known about that. Although she had read about the affair with the previous one, she’d assumed that was just a one-time thing. People working together fell in love all the time.

But the same scenario twice?

“No.” With an effort she coaxed her lips into a smile. “I’m sure it’s not a requirement for the job.”

Outside the private room, the chamber group paused in their play and someone took the microphone. Sofia peered over her shoulder, wondering if Idris was about to be introduced.

“I’m sure it’s not.” Delaney gestured toward the open door. “But don’t let me keep you. I plan to speak with several more of your colleagues tonight.”

“Have you got all the material you need?” Sofia had hoped for a feature in the magazine, not a snippet about her engagement to a hedge fund manager.

“Plenty.” Delaney flipped off her tablet and stood. “And I’ll be there to film your audition for Mr. Fortier, which will be something our readers will want to hear all about.”

Sofia knew she’d made a misstep with the woman, but had no idea how to correct it now. She settled for being polite as she rose to her feet.

“Thank you, I look forward to it,” she lied, although not nearly as well as Quinn could have in this situation. Funny how he’d become her biggest ally this week, their unlikely partnership providing her with an outlet at a stressful time in her career.

Maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to write off his ability to put on a façade in public. She would do better to learn the trick from him.

“Enjoy that handsome fiancé of yours,” the reporter called after her. “You’re so lucky to have found someone special. I was thinking of resorting to a matchmaker myself.”

Sofia nearly tripped over her feet, the shock of the words like an icy splash to her nerves. Turning, she saw Delaney tapping her chin thoughtfully with her stylus.

“You don’t happen to know any good ones, do you?” the woman asked.

A gauntlet had been dropped.

Sofia understood the implication. The woman knew something about what had happened at the airport. Had she learned that Sofia’s father had hired a matchmaker? That in itself was certainly not a big deal. But what if she knew more than that? That her engagement was a lie. That Sofia had only done it to quiet the gossip among her peers so she could focus on her dancing.

Maybe she should have straightened it out that night. Stuck with the truth. But since she was in no position to untangle any of it right now, Sofia simply smiled.

“I don’t, but I’ve heard that’s a very popular option these days.” She rushed to melt into the crowd and find Quinn.

In the pressure cooker of her work world, her fake fiancé had become her best source of commiseration.

And he wanted to be even more than that. He wanted to give her pleasure, a heady offer that had teased the edges of her consciousness all evening long. With her heart ready to pound out of her chest, she realized he was the only person she wanted to see right now.

If only she could truly trust him. But even as she raced to find him, she reminded herself to be careful. He might genuinely be attracted to her. But he wouldn’t be helping her right now if it didn’t serve McNeill interests.

* * *

“I need to speak to you.”

Sofia’s whisper in Quinn’s ear was the sexiest thing he’d heard since that small gasp she’d made in the limo when he’d kissed her neck. He’d been ready to get her alone ever since then.

Maybe this was his moment.

He stood on the fringes of the crowd listening to the guest of honor speak at a podium about his eagerness to work in New York and to let the city inspire him. The guy said all the right things, but something about him irritated Quinn from the moment he’d opened his mouth. Perhaps it was just because he held power over Sofia’s career and Quinn didn’t like thinking that the subjective opinions of one man could mean so much to her.

More likely, it was because Idris Fortier laughed at his own jokes and occasionally referred to himself in the third person. The well-heeled crowd in attendance hung on his every word, however.