“I didn’t do that much,” Rosa replied. “A little organizing is all.”
“As usual, Rosa is underselling herself,” Armando chimed in.
“Didn’t I warn you, dude?” said Darius. Eyes sparkling, he leaned in toward her as though to divulge a dark secret. “I told him something about weddings make women crazy. Even good ones like Arianna.”
“My sister didn’t go crazy,” Armando replied.
“Much,” Rosa said. “Her nerves got to her at the end. But overall, she was pretty good,” she added, looking over to Armando.
“Probably because she got such good help,” Darius said. “I know I’m feeling calmer.”
“What can I say, I have a gift.”
“You certainly do.”
Good Lord, but he was over-the-top. Rosa couldn’t remember the last time a man—other than Armando—complimented her so audaciously. She would be lying if she didn’t say she found his behavior immensely flattering.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Armando watching them with narrowed, disapproving eyes. Immediately she dialed back her behavior so he wouldn’t be upset.
What was she doing? Max’s friend was a charming, handsome man. If she wanted to flirt with him, that was her business. A little ego stroking was exactly what she could use right now.
It was definitely better than pining for Armando, who didn’t—couldn’t—want her.
Feeling audacious, she offered up her best charming smile. “Have you found where you’re sitting yet, Darius?” she asked. “If you’d like, I can help you find your place setting. We don’t assign places the same way as they do for American head tables.”
“That’d be great.” Darius’s perfect teeth gleamed white as he grinned back. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll be sitting near me.”
“You know what? I think that could be arranged.” Hooking her hand through his crook in his elbow, she proceeded to lead him away from the group, patting herself on the back every step of the way. She didn’t once turn back and look in Armando’s direction. Even if he was boring holes in the back of her head.
* * *
Armando hated the American. Why did Max have to insist on his being the best man? So what if they were childhood friends? He could have been a peripheral guest; he didn’t need to be front and center, grinning his perfect white teeth at everything Rosa said. And kissing her hand hello. Americans didn’t kiss hands. He kept waiting for Rosa to shoot him a look over the man’s outlandish behavior. Instead, she giggled and offered to find the man’s seat. He was pretty certain they’d swapped placards as well, because there she was, four seats down next to him rather than by Armando’s elbow, where she belonged.
“Do you plan to eat your soup or simply stir it all night?” his father asked.
Armando set his spoon down. “My apologies, Father. I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite this evening.” How could he with such completely inappropriate behavior going on?
“I’m just saying, it’s weird to segregate one little fork. Put it on the left with all the others,” he heard Darius remark.
Why was Rosa laughing? It wasn’t that funny. Head tipped back, notes like the trill of a thrush...he thought that was the laugh she reserved for him.
“It is a shame Mona was unable to attend this evening,” Father was saying.
“Yes, it is. I don’t think she expected the weather to be as bad as it is in Yelgiers.” On the inside, he was far less disappointed. Despite the fact the days were ticking closer to New Year’s, he found himself fighting to stir interest in his future bride. He figured it was because they hadn’t spent time together. After much persuasion, he had convinced her to chat by video the other evening. A perfectly nice talk during which she supported many—no, all—of his views and left him feeling strangely flat.
“She will be here in time for the ceremony tomorrow,” he said.
“I look forward to seeing her as well as her father,” King Carlos said. Down at the far end of the table, the sultan was happily engrossed in conversation with Armando’s second cousin, who also happened to be the deputy defense minister. “I imagine you’re eager to begin your formal courtship as well.”
“Definitely,” Armando replied. Perhaps when they met in person, there would be more of a spark.
Although if there wasn’t one, he could hardly blame Mona, could he? Not when the reason for an arranged marriage was his inability to become emotionally involved. Funny that he should be worried about a spark all of sudden.
Soup became salad. He opted for wine. On the other side of Father, Arianna and Max were ignoring their guests in favor of gazing into each other’s eyes. They’d been like that since Max stormed into the palace and declared his feelings. Eyes only for each other. His heart twisted with envy. He remembered what it was like to be that deeply in love, so everything around you faded when you were with that other person. To never feel lonely because you knew there was someone in this world who understood you, who recognized your flaws and cared anyway, about whom you felt the same.
Dammit, Rosa was laughing again. What was it about the American she found so amusing? Armando kissed her, and she told him he was reacting egotistically. This... Darius made a silly comment about oyster forks and she laughed as though it were the wittiest thing she ever heard.
“Poor tomato.”
Arianna’s maid of honor, Lady Tessa Greenwich, pointed to the salad. “I don’t know what the vegetable did to upset you, but I’m glad you’re mad at it and not me.”
He looked down at the cherry tomato skewered on his fork. “That’s what it gets for being the easiest to spear,” he said.
“Here I thought you were angry with it.”
“Angry? No,” he replied. Just extremely irritated with people’s lack of decorum. “Would you excuse me a moment?” He left the napkin next to his plate and stood up. “I’ll be back a moment.”
“Everything all right?” Lady Greenwich asked.
“It will be.” Soon as he had a word with his assistant. As he walked by Rosa and Darius, he leaned in to her ear. “May I see you in the corridor?” he whispered. “Now?”
Naturally, she was smiling when he spoke. She turned the smile in his direction, which only fed his agitation. “Is there a problem?” she asked.
Rather than answer, he continued walking, knowing she would follow. Once in the corridor, he led her past two additional entrances. They ended up in the gallery next to the grand arch.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked once he was certain they couldn’t be overheard.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Dear God, but she looked beautiful tonight. Her silk gown looked like cream poured over her body. Even as irritated as he was, he wanted to run his hands along every curve and sensual swell.
“I’m talking about you and Max’s friend,” he replied. “The way you’re laughing at everything he says.”
“Because he’s funny. Since when is that a crime?”
Since she wasn’t laughing with Armando, that’s when.
“Except that you’re my assistant. You were supposed to be by my side in case I need anything.” Not laughing it up with handsome foreigners.
“Come on, you’re not that needy, are you? Are you serious? I’m four seats away, not on the other side of the country. An extra twenty feet will hardly make a difference. Besides,” she added, folding her arms across her chest, “technically I’m not working. I’m here as a guest. That means I get to sit where I want.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to flirt with every man in the room.”
“Flirt with...?” It was the first time he had ever seen her flare her nostrils. Unfolding her arms, she held her hands stiffly by her side and leaned in. “It’s called enjoying myself.”
“It’s called flirting,” Armando charged back. “Tossing your hair over your shoulder, laughing. Like a peacock showing her plumage,” he muttered to the paintings on the wall. With Darius strutting in kind. Was it any wonder he’d lost his appetite?
“So what if I am?” Rosa asked, stepping up to his shoulder. “It’s been a long time since a man has found me attractive.”
Armando whipped his head around. “What are you talking about? I tell you that you’re attractive all the time.”
“I mean someone who isn’t... It’s nice, is all,” she said. Their shoulders knocked as she pushed past him toward the archway.
Armando stalked after her. She stood with her back to him, staring up at the Christmas tree. For a moment, his annoyance faded as he lost himself in the skin exposed by the drape of her dress.
Until the way his fingers itched to trace her spine reignited it again. “It’s inappropriate,” he snapped. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“Says who?” she asked, turning.
Said him. It killed Armando to watch her encouraging Darius’s attention when she had so easily brushed off his. “You’re my personal assistant,” he replied. “I expect you to behave with more decorum.”