Scandals Of The Royals. Lynn Raye Harris
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But she couldn’t stop time. And her control was slipping fast.
“No,” she said, trying to force a smile. “I’m meeting with the prince.”
“He has a funny name,” Luca said.
“Luca! No, he doesn’t.” Hard for a five-year-old to say though.
“Is he your boyfriend? Elia from school said her mama has a boyfriend.”
“Do you even know what a boyfriend is?” she asked, hoping to put off answering the question, since she wasn’t really sure what to say about all of this. Rodriguez was … he was nothing to her and her fiancé at the same time, and there was really no clean way to explain that to a child. She didn’t really understand it.
“No.”
“I told you we were going to be living here. And it’s because Rodriguez and I are getting married.” She sucked in a sharp breath and cursed the tiny zipper of her dress as it dug into her rib cage. “That means he’ll be my husband.”
“Will he be my dad?”
The thousand-euro question. And she had no clue how to answer it. It also betrayed that Luca did realize it was just them. And that there should be more. That he should have a father. But his father already had a family, and didn’t leave any room for them.
Her heart tightened. “Yes, Luca. If I’m married to him, he’ll be your dad.”
He was adopting Luca, and no matter how involved he was, legally, he would be Luca’s father. And she would not let him hurt her son. There was no amount of atonement worth that.
“Good. Where’s Sherbet?”
“Here.” She reached up to the shelf above his bed and retrieved one of his ratty stuffed owls, much loved and often washed so that his synthetic fuzz was clumped together. “Now, good night, Luca.”
“Night,” he mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.
She crept from the room and flicked the light off, and nearly ran into the solid figure of Rodriguez when she stepped out into the corridor.
“Madre di dio!” she hissed, her hand on her chest over her raging heart. She would pretend, for now, that her physical reaction was due to him startling her and that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit that clung to every hard muscle on his lean body. Nothing at all to do with those dark, glittering eyes, the chiseled jaw, the wicked mouth, always curved up as though he was laughing at her expense.
Nope. It was because he’d snuck up on her.
“I have a funny name?” he asked, one dark brow raised.
“You were eavesdropping?”
He shrugged, not even a hint of conscience showing. “Funny kid. He’s smart.”
She felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. “He is.”
“Lorenzo is here with the rings. Come with me.” He looped his arm through hers, a polite gesture. One a visiting dignitary might bestow upon her, back at the palace in Santina. But this was different.
Because every time Rodriguez touched her, it was like throwing a match into a can of petrol. It made her want to escape her own body. To climb out of her skin so she could get away from the heat, and the fire. The desire that made her want to turn to him and put her hands on his chest, to feel if it was just as hard and muscular as it looked.
How did he do this? How did he demolish all of her hard-earned control with just a look?
She hadn’t been alone with a man who wasn’t a relative since before Luca was born. It was making her hormones a touch unpredictable. And a lot overenthusiastic.
That was why. That was her story and she was sticking to it.
She clenched her jaw tight and followed him down the long, marble-tiled corridor and through double, oak wood doors into a large study. This had a bit of Rodriguez in it. At least, as she imagined him. Large windows that overlooked the turquoise sea and white sand beaches of Santa Christobel. A pale wood desk that had no papers on it, a bright red rug that added punch to the pale color palette.
The desk had a tray on it, lined in black velvet, with at least fifty brilliant rings on display.
“Lorenzo thought we might like some privacy,” Rodriguez said, not moving from his position by the doorway. “Go. Look.”
Carlotta swallowed and made her way over to the desk. There was a mix of old and new designs, antique mixed with modern. Diamonds in every color, sapphires, rubies.
Carlotta was familiar with fine jewelry. She’d been given her first pair of diamond earrings when she was three. But this … this was different. There was a time when she’d dreamed of a wedding proposal. First from an imaginary suitor, handsome and dashing. And then she’d met the man.
Gabriel. A fitting name. Pale golden hair, beautiful blue eyes. He’d looked like an angel to her. So perfect. He’d made her heart race and her pulse pound, had made her tremble with the desire for things she’d never really wanted before.
When she’d met Gabriel she’d rushed to throw off the restraints she’d let hold her all of her life. Because he had become the one she’d fantasized about getting a ring from.
Until she’d found out another woman already wore his ring. That thought always brought a kind of sharp, rolling nausea that made her shake, made her body prickle with cold sweat. With disgust. Disgust aimed at herself, for all of the sins her passions had encouraged her to commit.
She closed her eyes, curling her hand into a fist for a moment, fighting old memories. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look back down at the rings. This was different, this, at least, was honest. It wasn’t love, but she’d never really had love. She’d been used. She’d been discarded. She’d been tricked.
Even still, she wasn’t innocent of every wrong that had taken place in that relationship.
At least now she was going in with her eyes wide-open. At least now her heart wasn’t at risk.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she said. The gems blurred together as unexpected tears filled her eyes. Why was she being emotional? Because she was thinking about Gabriel? Thinking of him rarely made her cry anymore. It just made her feel sick.
“Start with what you like best.” Rodriguez’s voice came from right behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body at her back.
She licked her suddenly dry lips and tried to ignore her racing heart. “Help me choose.”
“It’s not for me, it’s for you.”
“I know but …” She extended her hand and touched a ring with a white, square-cut diamond at the center. “I don’t know.”
“Then we’ll have to see which one feels right.” He reached from behind her, his arm brushing her waist as he picked up the ring she’d just touched. He took her left hand in his and turned her gently, like a dancer might twirl his partner.
She was face-to-face with him, so close now. He held the ring up and handed it to her. She was grateful he wasn’t going to put it on for her. She didn’t know what she would do if he kept touching her hand. Melt, probably.
Rodriguez watched Carlotta slide the ring onto her finger, her motions smooth and graceful. She was like that. Always. Smooth and dignified. It was hard to imagine her ruffled, even though he’d seen it. Carlotta had a sanguine surface, but when she was cornered, her inner wildcat came out.
He liked it. Even if he couldn’t explain why. He tended to like simple women. Not stupid women, but women who had no baggage. Women who just wanted sex and fun. Parties, a night in his bed. And then he always had a gift sent to them later. Something to remember a good time by. It was uncomplicated.