His smile was also tinged with embarrassed relief. “Please. I’ll be in my office. And, Rosa?” She looked up from her computer screen to find his eyes filled with silent communication. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She dropped her gaze back to her screen before he could see her moist-eyed response. It had been for the best, this conversation. Better to be reminded of reality than to make a fool of herself pining for something that couldn’t be.
Like she told herself when she got on the elevator, there were worse things than unrequited feelings. She couldn’t think of any right now, but there were.
* * *
Didn’t he feel like the proper fool? Blast his decision to keep the office door open, since right now Armando wanted to slap the back of his desk chair with all his might. Dragging a hand through his curls, he glared at the snow falling outside his window. Egotistical was right. Here he’d been worrying about whether he had been leading Rosa on and all this time she hadn’t been the least concerned. From the sounds of it, she hadn’t given their moments under the mistletoe a second thought.
Why the hell hadn’t she? Surely she had felt the same frightening intimacy he’d felt on the stairs? Why then weren’t her thoughts swirling with the same confusion and desire?
Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, ’Mando. Regardless of what Rosa did or did not feel, the arguments for his apology still applied. Rosa’s lack of interest merely made closure that much easier. He should be relieved.
Check that. He was relieved, and now that matter was settled, his and Rosa’s relationship could go back to the way it had always been.
“Here are your notes.”
Or maybe not. Just like it had when she entered the outer office, his insides clutched the second he looked at her. So sweet and soft, he literally ached to pull her close. Desire, it appeared, needed a little more than an apology to disappear.
He gripped the back of his chair instead. “Thank you,” he said as she dropped the papers on his desk.
Her eyes barely lifted in acknowledgment. “You’re welcome.”
With his fingers gouging divots into the chair leather, he watched her walk to the door. “Making things easier,” he repeated with each sway of her shapeless jacket.
Still, why the hell wasn’t she as affected as he was?
CHAPTER EIGHT
AMAZING HOW QUICKLY time went when you weren’t looking forward to something. If Rosa had been excited for Arianna’s rehearsal dinner, the days before the ceremony would have dragged on, but since she was dreading the event—as well as the wedding itself—time sped by in a flurry of activity.
Before she realized, it was the night before Christmas Eve and she was standing by herself in the east dining room. While the wedding was small, it was by no means unelaborate. They would be dining tomorrow off three-hundred-year-old royal china bearing the Santoro crest. Tonight they were using the more modern state china with its fourteen-karat edging and matching tableware. The gold gleamed bright amid the red and white table linen. Arianna counted the forks. Six courses. Her cream-colored gown tightened at the thought.
She made a point of arriving early, while the rest of the party was in the chapel. If anyone asked, her purpose was to help Arianna’s assistant. The real reason was because she couldn’t face any kind of wedding reference with Armando in the room. Actually, she was trying to avoid thinking of Armando in terms of weddings, period. New Year’s Day was only a week away. Each passing day left a tighter knot in the pit of her stomach. Nine days and Armando would be lost to her forever.
Not that she’d ever had him, as he had stumblingly reminded her on Monday. No one other than Christina would ever have him. But the day he announced his engagement? That spelled the absolute end. The minute sliver of hope to which her heart continued to cling would cease to exist. One would think its demise would be a relief—that it would be better to have no hope than an improbable sliver—but in typical Rosa fashion, it wasn’t.
And so, rather than sit in the chapel and face reminders of Armando’s pending engagement, she decided to spend a few moments alone in the dining room preparing herself.
She was standing by the fireplace warming her toes when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later, Armando entered at the far end of the room. Upon seeing her, he stopped short. “I wondered where you might be,” he said. “I noticed you weren’t in the chapel during the rehearsal.”
Did that mean he had been looking for her? Rosa’s pulse skipped in spite of herself. She needed to stop trying to read things into his comments. “I thought Louise might need help. She’s had her hands full this week, what with the gifts and the preparations.”
“You would think the wedding was ten times the size considering the number of people who have sent their regards. My sister will never want for silver ice tongs again.”
“Nor soup tureens,” Rosa replied. “At last count, she’d received three.”
“I know, I saw the display in the other room.” As per tradition, the gifts were lined up for guests to see. “I shudder to think what it would have looked like if the wedding was a major affair.”
He’d know soon enough. His upcoming engagement hung between them, unmentioned. The conversation was reminiscent of others they’d had this week. Friendly, but with unspoken tension beneath the surface. Even their silences, normally comfortable, had an awkwardness about them.
Watching him watch the fire, she noted the black tie hanging loose around his neck. “Do you need assistance?” she asked. “With the tie?”
He glanced down. “Please,” he said. “Damn thing keeps coming out crooked when I try.” Rosa had to smile. “Arianna said she would help after rehearsal, but I have a feeling she will be distracted, and since you are here...”
“It’s not as though I haven’t done it a couple dozen times before,” Rosa replied. Stepping close, she took hold of the ends and tugged them into place. The cloth was cold from being outside. His skin, however, emanated warmth. The heat buffeted her fingers, making them feel clumsy. “One of these days you’re going to have to learn to do this yourself,” she murmured.
“Why, when I have you to do it for me?”
“Who says I’m always going to be around?” In the middle of looping one end over another, she heard the portent in her words and fumbled. “I would think your bride would prefer she do this for you.”
She felt his muscles tense. “Perhaps,” he answered, rather distractedly. “But will she be as good as you?”
“Oh, I think most people are. It isn’t as hard as you think.”
“Or as easy,” he replied.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Nothing.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “I imagine you’ll be glad to be free of the duty. Taking care of me must get tiring after a while.”
That was an odd choice of words. Rosa pulled the bow tight. “I’ve never minded doing things for you,” she told him. In fact, it was one of the best parts of her job. She’d found a certain kind of symbiosis in taking care of him while he grieved. The more she did, the more she remembered how strong and capable she could be. Taking care of Armando had brought back part of the woman Fredo nearly erased.
She pulled the ends of the tie, then smoothed the front of his jacket. The planes of his chest were firm and broad beneath her fingers. “There,” she said. “Perfect as always.”
“So are you,” he replied with a smile. “You look beautiful.”
“My dress is too tight.
“Stop channeling Fredo. You look perfect. You always look perfect.”
The sliver of hope throbbed inside her heart. He needed to stop making her feel special.
“Armando...”
“Rosa...”
They spoke at the same time, Armando reaching for her hand as she attempted to back away.
“I—” Whatever he was going to say was halted by a pair of deep voices. She managed to slip from his grip just as Max and another man strolled in.
“And you’re telling me this is only one of the dining rooms?” the stranger was asking.
“One of three,” Max replied.
“Damn. This place makes the Fox Club look like a fast food joint. Hello, who’s this?” He smiled at Rosa. “You weren’t at the rehearsal, were you? I would have remembered.”
“Dial it back, cowboy. I don’t need a scandal.” Max clasped the man on the shoulder. “Rosa Lamberti, may I present to you my best friend, Darius Abbott. He just arrived from New York.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Rosa replied, recognizing the name. “You’re Max’s best man, right?”
The African-American was slightly shorter than Max, but had a muscular build, the kind you might expect from a rugby player. The shoulders of his rented tux pulled tight as he lifted her hand to his lips. “They don’t make them better,” he replied, winking over her fingers. Rosa giggled at his outrageousness. Max’s friend was a first-class flirt.
“Rosa is Prince Armando’s assistant,” Max told him. “She’s been a huge help this week, too. Without her and Louisa, I’m pretty sure Arianna would have lost it.”