The Billionaire's Gemini Bride

GWEN

Hot water streams down my skin as I scrub off the memory of last night in my bathroom.

I blow a hard grunt of humiliation. Tom used me like I meant nothing to him.

Well, it won't ever happen again.

After walking out of the shower cubicle, I throw a large white towel around my body and step into my bedroom.

The first thing I see is a pregnancy test kit lying on my bed.

"Alright," I hiss. "This is just too ridiculous!"

Ten minutes later, I barge into the terrace lounge where Diana is currently having coffee and reading from her tablet with round glasses crooked over her nose.

Diana barely glances in my direction as I stomp over to her.

Finally, the elderly matriarch lifts her eyes to me, unbothered by my temper.

"Let me have it."

I tighten my lips and hold the sealed box to her. "If you must know, it was only foreplay and nothing more."

Diana blinks with relief and leans back into her chair. "I need to call Tom to confirm this."

I throw my hands up as my entire face flushes. "Did you not hear what I just said? And besides, I don't plan to bring another poor child into this...family!"

Diana scoffs, her mouth tugs into a smirk. "Is yours any better? Tell me."

My body becomes still. "You would know if you'd actually care to meet any of them."

She returns her gaze to the tablet. "I don't care about your immediate family. I've learned all I need to know from your criminal sister. Now, don't you have a store to run?" she replies softly.

A short huff comes out of the back of my throat. She really is impossible to reason with. I want to grab her tablet and send it over the edge, but instead, I straighten my blazer and head straight for the door.

Mikey is fully awake in the nursery. The nanny, Carly, shakes a small blue stuffed bear over his cradle, then she turns to me with a smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ciccotelli." Carly sings.

I can feel my left eye twitching. "Ugh, please call me Gwen." I correct, to which Carly just looks confused.

"How's the little one?" I reach for Mikey and lift him. He makes a soft, excited babble.

"He's got a lot of energy," Carly replies meekly. "I was thinking of taking him out for a stroll."

I nod while covering the back of Mikey's head. "That's fine, I suppose some sunshine in the park will do him good."

Carly squints at me. "Actually, I meant at the grounds here at home. Signora Ciccotelli wouldn't allow me to go that far."

"Are you serious?"

She was.

Well, I guess the world revolves around my eloquent mother-in-law.

After kissing Mikey goodbye, I head straight for work.

It's unbelievable how I can have my very own silent driver that doesn't go on about how the New York tourists are always ruining everything.

"Thank you, Leo," I wave at the car window before strolling into my store.

Inside, I'm greeted by the new staff, about five of them watch me nervously. I know the feeling of pleasing the man in charge.

There's also someone unfamiliar: an average man with brown hair and white at the temples, scanning a set of ruby earrings.

My old manager was completely dreadful. Always thinking I was out calling my boyfriend, when it was the daycare center. He even said something about me being 'over-protective.'

"Good morning, everyone," I say sweetly. "Please step into the boardroom for a quick meeting."

They head for the room while I move to the customer's side.

"Sir, I'm completely sorry," I begin. "Can you check back in later? I promise to offer you a complimentary discount."

He shrugs and speaks in a rich Brooklyn accent. "I don't mind. In fact, I was just about to join the meeting."

My mouth folds back, and I stare at him, dumbfounded. My legs tremble.

He can't be thick-headed, right?

I absolutely cannot handle any more surprises this morning.

"I love meetings." He smiles in a charming way that doesn't calm the panic growing in my chest.

"Who are you?" I ask.

He throws the heel of his palm to his forehead. "Sorry, I haven't introduced myself." He brings his hand to me. "Matthew Bertinelli, your assistant manager. You can call me Matt."

My mouth hangs open.

My what?

Matt stretches his hand behind me, but it doesn't connect to my back. I'm compelled to walk with him towards the room.

Then I pause to a stop and swing my head to him angrily. "If this is some kind of a joke, I'm not in the mood. I want you to-"

"I was hired by the management last week." Matt interrupts. "I got the training and everything."

"I think you have the wrong store."

"Gemini Jewelers is kinda hard to miss on the map-Hey!"

He stumbles behind me as I grab a handful of his shirt for the exit. The security guard approaches us with a firm stare.

I point a finger at Matt. "Please, escort this strange man out of the premises."

"Whoa." Matt's eyes pop wide. "Look, they said it was okay to resume as soon as possible. Can you at least make a phone call?"

I place my hands on my hips. "And who might 'they' be?"

Matt grins. "Your mother-in-law and uh, your husband approved my employment."

Instantly, I groan in surprise, half-baked with anger.

The meeting didn't go as well as expected. Matt quickly marks his territory by casually interrupting every word I say. It's a miracle I didn't pull my hair out.

Afterwards, I rush into my office and ring Tom's.

A feminine voice answers smoothly. "Ciccotelli Enterprises. Who am I speaking with?"

"Gwen O'Brien. Could you please put me through to him? His cell phone seems to be switched off."

There was a long pause.

"Hello?"

A small chuckle comes through, almost derisive. "Oh my God, Mrs. Ciccotelli? I thought I was being pranked by the last British girl he-"

That comment almost sends my head spinning like a Frisbee. I'm about to ask for more information, but she coughs, rather conveniently.

"Actually, Mr. Ciccotelli is currently unavailable."

"Doing what? He can spare a few minutes for me. It's important."

"But-"

"Listen, I am very cross right now and I need to speak with my husband immediately."

She puts me on hold for a few seconds until I hear a click.

A familiar voice comes through. "Hi, Red."

I have so many bitter words to say to Tom, but the warmth from the sound of his voice reduces the anger in me. It forces something I've never dreamed of telling a man.

"So darling, am I British girl number three or seven?"