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She looked down at the rice and pushed the shell of a muscle with the tip of her fork. “Santina hasn’t been my home for a long time. How will your people feel about this?”
“About what?”
“You marrying a woman who has a child. Clearly, I’m not your standard-issue virgin princess.”
“I doubt my people are under the illusion I have any desire for a virgin princess. I’m certainly not a virgin, neither do I pretend to be one.”
For some reason, his immediate dismissal of the idea gave her a strange rush of pleasure. She shouldn’t care whether he approved of her or not, and yet, for some reason, it satisfied her to know that he hadn’t really expected, or cared, if his bride were pure as the driven snow.
“What you desire, and what’s expected, are two very different things.”
“I assume you’re an expert?”
“I can claim a bit of experience in the area, yes,” she said. She really didn’t want the conversation to go in that direction. Someday, maybe. But not now. She was fairly certain her brothers didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding Luca’s birth. She wasn’t really eager to spread it around. “I’m just not certain what your people will make of you taking a single mother as your bride.”
“I didn’t ask them,” he said simply, taking a bite of paella.
“That simple?”
“I am to be their king.”
“But there are appearances to worry about and … appearances.” Appearance was of the upmost importance to her father. Her mother and father conducted themselves with an old-world grace. They maintained an aristocratic distance from their people, and from the press, that was rare in the modern era. At least, they had. Until she had shattered some of that respectability with a very high-profile, undeniable mistake.
She knew her father might have forgiven her for her mistakes, but he’d never forgotten them. She’d never forgiven herself for it. And here Rodriguez was talking as though appearances didn’t matter?
“Do you honestly think I care about the way the media sees me? The way the people see me? I have done well for them, and while my father has been fading from this world I have already been seeing to the duties of the king. I will continue to do well for them, to make the country prosper. I will marry and I will continue the line. No more can be asked of me.”
“Just because you … said so?”
“Yes, just because I said so.”
“And you’ll adopt Luca.”
“I will give him my name, as I said I would. I keep my word, princesa.”
“I don’t have a great track record with men and their word,” she said, regretting the words as soon as she spoke them.
“On this you can trust me, Carlotta,” he said, his voice low, sincere, the mocking edge to his lips gone. “I don’t play with people. Power is one of those things that can make a man feel invincible. It can make him feel as though he’s entitled to harm those he sees as beneath him. I am everything that the press says I am. The stories are all true. So yes, I have some sins to my credit. But I don’t hurt people. I don’t lie.”
Carlotta looked at him, at his dark eyes, and she felt her heart rate speed up. “I believe you.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ud8600cf7-975b-5c5e-a579-a86ae2d7d58a)
“MY JEWELER will be arriving later.”
Carlotta looked up from the drawing Luca had just handed her and nearly choked as she watched Rodriguez walk into the playroom. The staff had spent the afternoon furnishing and arranging everything. Now Luca was fully equipped with a new bed for his room, a small table and chairs, where he was currently sitting, coloring, and a matching, hand-carved toy box for his most prized possessions. Although his favorite stuffed owls held pride of place on a shelf by his bed.
“What jeweler? What for?” she asked, the answer landing about the time the words left her mouth.
“For your ring.”
She looked back down at the paper. “Right.”
Luca turned in his chair. “Hi.”
Rodriguez attempted a smile, his jaw tightening. “Hi, Luca.”
“Why do I need to see the jeweler?”
He lifted one dark brow, his focus shifting back to her. “So you can choose the ring.”
“Well, I don’t see why I really need to choose it.”
“Do you have a crown?” Luca asked, his green eyes still fixed on Rodriguez.
Rodriguez looked back at Luca, a flash of discomfort crossing his handsome face. “There is a crown. One that has been in the Anguiano family for a long time. But I don’t wear it.”
“I would,” Luca said, turning back to his drawing.
Rodriguez’s brows locked together. “What were you saying?” he asked, his dark eyes not leaving Luca.
“I don’t see why I need to choose the ring.” Carlotta bent and set the picture down on the table, then straightened. “I mean, it’s a ring.”
“Your engagement and wedding ring.”
“Yes, but it isn’t as though …” She looked down at Luca and frowned. “Luca, I’m going to go talk to Rodriguez for a moment.”
Luca looked up. “But I’m going to color.”
“That’s fine, just stay at the table. Color on the paper only. Out here.” She stepped out into the corridor and Rodriguez followed, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.
“You don’t seem to be distracted by Luca’s interjections,” he said.
“He’s a kid. He does that.”
“I would not have been permitted to do that.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “And you don’t think he should be allowed to?”
“There is very little from my childhood I would use as a model when raising a son. I don’t mind his comments. I’m just not used to it.”
“Oh.” She relaxed her stance. “I was saying it’s not like our marriage has a whole lot of significance. You intend to do as you please. It isn’t as though the ring will have any real value to me.”
“You’ll want it to match your style, sì?” he asked.
“I suppose but …”
He frowned, his forehead creasing. “Why aren’t you pleased?”
“Pleased?”
“You get to look at diamonds and pick your favorite. Women like that.”
She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of diamonds.” Jewelry didn’t mean anything. It was money, money could buy a lot of things. Jewels sent to her at birthdays and holidays while her family stayed hundreds of miles away, that didn’t do a lot to offer comfort.
“And you do not want … more?”
“Does it bother you?” she asked.
“I thought this would please you,” he said, his tone exasperated.
“I didn’t say I was displeased, Rodriguez. I just … I didn’t know you were going to the trouble of having a jeweler come with a display for me to peruse. I wasn’t expecting it. Neither do I require it.”
“Let me give you something,” he said. The tone in his voice changed, there was something different there, something dark. She didn’t truly understand it, but in some ways, she doubted if he did either.
“I’ll choose a ring. But you are already giving me something. You’re giving Luca your name. It … it means a lot to me. The Santina name has been nothing more than a curse to him in so many ways. Because him bearing my last name marks him. No matter how much I wish it didn’t,” she whispered the last words, the pain strangling her. Whenever she thought of what she’d done to her son, to his life, with her bad decisions, it made her feel like she was bathing in the shame of it all over again. In the agony.
He deserved a mother who made better choices. Her mother and father deserved a daughter who made better choices. At least in this marriage to Rodriguez, she had a small shot at redemption.
Not just for herself. For Luca. For him, bearing the Anguiano name would erase so much stigma from his life. In time, people might forget. He might stop being punished for her sins.
That alone made the marriage worth it.
“I don’t know if my family name will serve him any better,” Rodriguez said.
“It will.”
Their eyes met and Carlotta felt the impact like a punch to her stomach, making her breath shallow, her entire body tense. There was something about him, something beyond the masculine beauty of his face, the perfectly square jaw, the dark, compelling eyes. He possessed a kind of sexual magnetism. The sort of charm that could make a woman lose her mind, and her clothes, in less time than it would take for him to properly execute a pickup line.
She could feel her body changing. Her breasts getting heavy, her limbs trembling, her stomach tightening, an ache building in her core. All it took was a look. He didn’t have to speak, didn’t have to move, and her body was ready for him. For his touch.
How did he do it? How did he peel her control away, strip by strip, like a flimsy silk covering? Not even Gabriel had been able to do that. She’d made the decision to cast off propriety and have an affair with him. With Rodriguez … she was trying to ignore it. Trying to hang on, and yet she couldn’t.
She backed away, gripping the knob on the playroom door, counting on the reminder that her son was right there to be her lifeline, to be her link to sanity.
“I’d better go check on Luca.”
He nodded sharply, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll send one of my staff up to sit with him in a couple of hours when the jeweler arrives. Is that all right with you?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. It might come out all breathy and shivery. She certainly felt shivery. She backed into the playroom and closed the door behind her, trying to ignore the steady pounding of her heart.
She knew about men like him. Men with charm. Men who made promises with their eyes. Promises of pleasure that young, naive women might mistake for a promise of love.
But the only real promise in men like him was the promise of heartbreak. She knew that. She had the battle scars on her heart, on her life, to serve as reminders.
Rodriguez was a danger, not simply to her heart, but to her control. She had to keep her control. She couldn’t afford to let it go. She would give him an heir, and after the wedding, she would give him her body. But it would only be for that purpose.
It could never be anything more.
“Good night, figlio mio.” Carlotta leaned forward, the cinched waist of her dress digging into her less than toned stomach, and kissed Luca on the forehead.
“Are you going to sleep too?” he asked, his eyes trained on hers. Luca was always so tuned in to her. She imagined it was because it was just the two of them. She poured everything into him. All of her love, all of her energy. It was the most exhausting, rewarding thing she’d ever done with her life.
And now it was changing. Her sweet, peaceful, somewhat boring life. She didn’t want it to change. For a moment she just wanted to freeze time. Keep it here, with Luca. With him so small and trusting that his mother had everything under control. His trust in her helped her believe in herself.
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.”
