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“What…”

“We land in about an hour.”

“Land…” She sat up confusedly, pushing her tangled hair away from her face. As Christos stepped closer, he saw the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks, and again he felt the sweep of tenderness and guilt. Again he pushed it all away. He felt enough guilt already for failing Luca. He didn’t need to feel it for failing Rose.

“There’s time to shower and change if you like,” he told her. “It’s through there.” He pointed to the door to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have coffee and rolls brought to the main room when you’re ready.”

Still looking sleepy and confused and all too adorable, Rose nodded. Not trusting himself to linger, Christos turned on his heel and walked back out to the main cabin, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

In just a few hours, he told himself, they would be on the estate, and he would explain to Rose how this was all really going to work. The thought should have brought him comfort, but he felt only confusion—and grief.

* * *

By the time Rose emerged from the bedroom, freshly showered, her damp hair pulled back in a French braid, they were landing in half an hour. Christos took in her pale face and tired eyes, the more restrained outfit she wore—a pair of cream linen trousers and a sleeveless top in pale green that brought out the jade green in her eyes.

She gave him a wan smile as she sat opposite him, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as he met her gaze, and then she quickly looked away. He’d considered mentioning their encounter from last night but decided all that needed to be said already had been. It would be best for them both if they simply moved on and tried to act like it had never happened.

“How are you feeling?” he asked courteously. “You managed to sleep?”

“Yes, I completely conked out.” She still wasn’t looking at him. “But I’m feeling pretty nervous now,” she admitted in a wavery voice. “Can you tell me what’s going to happen when we get off the plane?”

“A car will be waiting to take us to the Amanti estate, near Lake Maggiore,” he told her crisply. “It’s a journey of about an hour and a half. After that, you can rest and refresh yourself, and my mother is hoping to meet you at lunch. Perhaps afterward I can give you a tour of the estate.” He offered a brief smile, trying to ignore the way his stomach was starting to cramp. During that tour, he intended to finally be honest about his intentions. It was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

“Okay.” Rose tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she finally risked a glance at him. “That all sounds good… I guess.”

“Of course, if you would prefer to do something else, you must say,” he continued in the same crisp tone. “You are not a prisoner, Rose.”

The smile she gave him was wryly uncertain. “I can’t even think what I’d want to do, but maybe I’ll figure something out once I’ve had a look around.”

“Of course.” He turned back to the papers he’d been reviewing, effectively dismissing her. After a few uneasy moments, Rose poured herself a cup of coffee and took a roll, which she nibbled without much enthusiasm.

Christos watched her out of the corner of his eye; it wasn’t until ten minutes had passed that he realized he hadn’t been paying any attention whatsoever to what he was reading. Even when she was simply sitting, Rose Delaney distracted him…which was all the more reason to keep to his original plan.

They didn’t speak as the plane started to descend, and the steward came to clear the coffee and breakfast things away while they buckled into their seats. Rose craned her neck to look out the window at the view of Milan underneath a bright blue summer sky. Christos saw her features lighten, and she glanced at him.

“I’ve never been to Italy, or anywhere in Europe,” she said. “I’ve never even been out of the US.”

“Good thing you had a passport, then,” he remarked dryly.

“I only got one because I always dreamed of traveling.” Her mouth dropped open as realization dawned in her eyes. “Wait—where is my passport?”

“I took it from your bag back at the hotel to simplify the boarding process,” he replied without a shred of remorse, and she shook her head slowly, looking like she wanted to argue.

Then she just said on a sigh, “I’m glad one of us remembered it.” She turned back to the window, her expression composed but thoughtful. Christos knew he should be glad she had chosen not to rail against his autocratic decision-making, but he found he missed the sparring, the spark.

Never mind. Better this way, he reminded himself. So much better this way.

They left the plane to step into the bright sunlight, a heat haze shimmering over the tarmac. Christos guided her to the waiting luxury sedan, and as soon as the door had closed, he slipped out his phone to text his mother—and keep himself from talking to Rose.

He had to harden his heart now, he knew. He couldn’t allow it to soften from her shy questions or uncertain glances, her wry remarks and her bright-eyed interest in the world around her. The only way to get through this was to maintain the kind of cool distance he should have kept all along.

In any case, after about twenty minutes of driving, Rose fell asleep, her feet tucked under her, her head resting on the leather seat, and she didn’t so much as stir until they were driving through the gates of the Amanti estate.

“Are we…are we here?” she asked when the car had stopped in front of the main house.

Christos snapped shut the file he’d been looking over. “We are, indeed.”

“Oh, no.” She wiped her eyes and tucked the loose strands of hair back into her braid, looking rueful. “Did I do anything embarrassing like drool in my sleep?” she asked with a smiling grimace.