“Surely you didn’t think you could escape unscathed,” his father remarked.
“I’d hoped.”
“You might as well get used to it. This is only a small ceremony. Yours and Mona’s will be far more elaborate.”
“Must it? We are talking about my second marriage.”
“Regardless, you are the crown prince,” his father replied. “The people will want to celebrate.”
Right, the people. Those thousands of candles relying on him to stay lit. The universe was certainly intent on reminding him of his duties today, wasn’t it?
His father clapped him on the shoulder, breaking his thoughts. “I know what you are thinking, son.”
“You do?” How, when he wasn’t sure himself? A week ago yes, but now? Not so much.
“But of course,” the king replied. “I know better than anyone how difficult it is to move forward when what you really want is to bring back the past. I know how much you loved Christina.” Armando felt a stab of guilt. He hadn’t been thinking of Christina last night—or this morning. Only of Rosa.
“When your mother died, it was all I could do to hold myself together, I missed her that much.”
“I know,” Armando replied. All too well he remembered the sight of his father with his face buried in his hands.
“I still miss her. Every day.” He gave a soft laugh. “We Santoros love hard.”
“So I’ve been told.” At least his father did. Armando didn’t know what he was doing anymore.
“What I’m trying to say is that I know what you are doing is difficult. You’re putting your sister’s happiness—not to mention the welfare of this country—ahead of your own needs.” His hand still lay on Armando’s shoulder, and so he gave a squeeze. “I hope you know how grateful I am. Grateful and proud. When I step down, Corinthia will be in wonderful hands.”
For an aging man, he had an amazing grip. The pressure brought moisture to Armando’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“No, son, thank you. Now...” Lifting his hand, his father slapped him between the shoulder blades. “Let us go see what duties your sister has assigned to us, shall we?”
“I’ll be right there. I just have to make a quick phone call.”
“Don’t dally too long. I don’t want to go looking for you again.”
Armando chuckled. “Five minutes.”
“I will hold you to that,” his father replied, waggling a finger. “I love my daughter, but I refuse to deal with her bridal preparations by myself.”
“Coward.”
“Absolutely. One day you will have a daughter, and you will understand.”
He was probably right. “Don’t worry, you have my word.” And Armando always kept his promises.
His eyes flickered to the mistletoe. Unfortunately.
* * *
Instead of going shopping like she said, Rosa ended up spending the weekend at Christina’s Home, helping the residents with their Christmas baking. Working with the other women helped ground her, reminded her there were worse things in life than unrequited feelings. Seriously, what did it matter if Armando didn’t return her attraction? It wasn’t as if it was a surprise. She was a chubby, average personal assistant. And that wasn’t her insecurity talking. Those were simply the facts. She also had a job and a place to call home, which made her better off than a lot of people. To quote Fredo, which she hated doing even when he was right, she had it pretty damn good.
She’d get over her crush or whatever it was.
By the time she returned to work on Monday, she was in a much better place. In fact, she thought as she stepped into the elevator, she’d even go so far as to say her feelings were shifting back to normal. Why not? They crept up on her overnight—who’s to say they couldn’t disappear just as quickly? Right?
Right?
Armando was sitting at her desk when she walked in. Wearing one of his dark suits, his tie and pocket square a perfect Corinthian red, he was busy reading her computer screen and didn’t see her. Rosa’s insides turned end over end anyway. “Isn’t that desk a little small for you?” she asked. She was not trying to sound flirtatious; his long, lean figure dwarfed the writing table.
Nor did the way his eyes brightened when Armando looked mean anything. “I was looking for the notes on last week’s meeting with the American ambassador. He’s coming by this afternoon, and I deleted the copy you sent me.”
“You do that a lot.”
“What can I say? I don’t like a crowded inbox.”
“Thank goodness you have me, then.” She turned to hang up her coat on the coatrack in the corner.
“I know.”
Rosa paused. It was the same banter they’d exchanged dozens of times, only this time, the words sounded different. There was a note of melancholy attached to the gratitude that unnerved her. Slowly she draped her coat onto its brass hook. “It’s snowing outside,” she said. “I heard one of the guards say we might even see accumulation on the ground. Might be the first time in years Corinthia could have a white Christmas.”
Armando was looking at her now, not the computer. She could tell because her spine felt his attention and had begun to prickle. Still afraid to turn around, she made a show out of brushing the droplets of water from the blue wool. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I wanted...”
Hearing his exasperated sigh, Rosa stopped fussing with her coat and turned around. It wasn’t like Armando to sound this uncertain. It made her uneasy.
The contrite look on his face didn’t help. “I wanted to apologize...”
Oh, Lord, he was going to tell her he was sorry for kissing her. “It’s all right,” she cut in. “There is no need to apologize. It’s a silly holiday tradition.”
“Maybe, but my behavior the other morning crossed the line. I was inappropriate, and I apologize.”
In other words, he was sorry he’d made the suggestion. “That’s what happens during the holidays,” she said, forcing a smile. “All the celebrating makes people say things they don’t mean. Don’t worry, I didn’t take offense.”
“It’s not that I didn’t mean it, I just...”
Just what? Rosa knew she should ask, but she was too stuck on the first part of his sentence to say the words. Was he saying he wanted to kiss her again?
Pushing himself to his feet, he moved around to the front of the desk. “You’re a beautiful woman, Rosa. What man wouldn’t want to kiss you?”
“You would be surprised,” she murmured.
“That is Fredo talking. Believe me, any man with half a brain would kiss you in a heartbeat.”
She would have smiled at his calling Fredo stupid if he weren’t filling her personal space. Rejection would be so much easier with a desk between them. Or breathing room. Anything besides the scent of his skin teasing her nostrils. “There’s no need to oversell your point,” she told him.
“I mean every word.”
She risked looking him in the eye. “But?” There had to be a but. After all, for all his sweet words, he was apologizing, not taking her in his arms.
Shaking his head, Armando stepped away. “I’m not dead,” he said. “I see a beautiful woman, I am going to feel desire. It’s only natural.”
He started pacing, a sign that he was thinking out loud. Trying hard to move past his finding her desirable, Rosa leaned back and waited for him to work out the rest of the explanation. The part that would pour cold water over the rest of his words.
“It wouldn’t be fair,” he said. “To kiss you. Not when I don’t... That is...”
“I understand.” There was no need for her to hear the words after all. She’d heard them often enough. His heart was buried with Christina. He was emotionally dead.
He might as well marry a stranger and help Corinthia, because he would never love again.
That’s what he meant by it not being fair. He might want her, but his feelings didn’t—couldn’t—go deeper.
Then there was Mona. Even if he could care, there was Mona.
At least he cared enough to worry about leading her on. She should take solace in that. Then, his sense of honor was one of the qualities that made him so special.
The least she could do was let him off the hook. Inserting a lightheartedness she didn’t feel into her voice, she asked, “Aren’t you being a bit egotistical?”
Armando stopped his pacing. “I beg your pardon?”
“We were flirting under the mistletoe. You might be a good kisser, but that is still a big leap to go from a kiss to breaking my heart.”
“So, you didn’t feel—”
“I’m not dead,” she said, throwing his answer back at him. “You’re a wonderful kisser. But even I’m smart enough to know that one kiss does not a relationship make.”
“That’s good to know,” he said, nodding. The note in his voice was embarrassed relief, Rosa told herself. It just sounded like disappointment.
“Now,” she said, walking around and taking her seat, “if we are finished making needless apologies, would you like me to print out the notes for your meeting with Ambassador Wilson?”