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Her smile was a balm to his soul, a joy to his heart as she answered at once. “Yes,” Rose said. “Yes, I will.”

Chapter Seventeen

Rose gazed down at the emerald surrounded by diamonds that was glinting on her ring finger, a family heirloom that Christos had slid onto her finger last night, marking their official engagement. She’d said yes over a week ago, but now it felt truly real and even imminent. They hadn’t set a date, but it would be soon, before she got much bigger.

It felt exciting and scary in equal measure, because while she had convinced herself that she wanted to marry Christos, she was still worried that she was being reckless, following her heart rather than her head, and only more hurt would be at the end of this incredible road.

Christos hadn’t said that he loved her. She hadn’t told him she loved him, either, even though she knew she did. She kept telling herself that it was just words, and he’d shown her in a thousand different ways how he felt, or at least how he was beginning to feel, and that was what mattered. It didn’t keep her from being scared, but she’d decided to go ahead with this, because it felt right and good, and she wanted to do it.

Didn’t she?

It was the night of the party, now an engagement party, in Venice. Rose supposed it was understandable that she was having second thoughts about what was almost certainly the most reckless decision of her life, no matter how right it felt. She was just about to meet hundreds of people who might wonder why on earth Christos Amanti was marrying her, and make him wonder, as well.

Yesterday they’d arrived in Venice. After checking into the most fabulous penthouse suite overlooking the Grand Canal, they’d spent a pleasant afternoon sightseeing—taking a gondola down the narrow canals, having coffee on Piazza San Marco. Today had been all about the party, and Esmerelda had booked in a platoon of beauty experts to provide treatments for her, as well as a checkup with a doctor; she’d had weekly checkups since she’d arrived, and while she appreciated the care, it reminded her of what was really mattered. The baby in her womb, the oh-so-important heir. Esmerelda had said as much that evening as she’d rested one proprietary hand on Rose’s bump.

“We must take care of my bambino,” she’d said with laughing severity. While Rose knew her future mother-in-law meant well, it still made her a little uneasy.

Was this baby all that mattered not just to Esmerelda, but to Christos? Rose might have told him she was ready to marry him, and he’d said he was ready to marry her…but was it just because of the child in her womb? She still didn’t know if she could trust Christos’s seeming warmth and affection, as much as she wanted to.

“There you are.” Her fiancé’s voice was low and rich as he strode toward where she was standing on their suite’s balcony overlooking the lagoon. He smiled at her before taking her gently into his arms. She came willingly, happily, resting her head on his shoulder, craving the comfort. “Why so serious?” Christos murmured, his hand tangling in her hair as he tilted her head so she was looking up at him.

“I’m nervous about tonight,” she confessed.

Christos’s expression softened. “Understandable, but there’s no need to be nervous. Everyone will love you.”

Like you love me? Rose bit back the words. She knew she wasn’t brave enough to say them. “Well, I hope they love my dress,” she said lightly, and glanced up at Christos, smiling when she saw his eyes darken with desire.

“I cannot wait to see it. Or should I say, you in it.” His arms tightened around her waist. Rose smiled, her body tingling with anticipation. Esmerelda had helped her pick out the dress, and it was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever worn or even seen. She couldn’t wait for Christos to see her in it.

Which brought her to the point she’d been wanting to tell him but had been too shy to admit. Christos must have sensed something, because his dark brows drew together as he dipped his head closer to hers.

“Rose? What is it?”

How do you tell a man you want him to make love to you? Rose wondered on a strangled laugh. If it even is love…

“Nothing,” she whispered, and he smiled and kissed her.

* * *

Two hours later, she was standing in front of the mirror, hardly able to believe she was looking at her reflection. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a glorious arrangement of loose curls, diamond-tipped pins glinting among the tresses, and a few tendrils falling down across her shoulders. The dress she wore was of emerald-green satin, with a halter-neck top that tied in the back in a big bow and then clung to her curves, including her growing bump, before swirling about her ankles in a gleaming and luxuriant excess of fabric. The gown was both sexy and sedate, slinky and sophisticated, and in it, Rose felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Esmerelda had given her an emerald-and-diamond bracelet to go with the ring, an Amanti heirloom that Rose felt both honored and scared to wear. And now she was standing at the top of the stairs of the hotel ballroom where they were having this party, waiting for Christos so they could make their big entrance, and trying not to feel terrified.

She’d been fairly blithe about meeting a good portion of the Italian aristocratic society when it had been in the abstract. Now that they were all milling about one story below her, underneath a massive chandelier, with the frescoed walls and marble floor all reminding her of the luxurious and privileged life she’d fallen into? She could hear their low laughter and murmured conversation, see the flash and glint of jewels on the women as they craned their elegant necks, no doubt trying to catch a glimpse of the mysterious woman whom the Amanti family were about to announce.

She was sure to disappoint.

“Don’t hyperventilate.” Christos’s voice was a laughing murmur as he came to stand beside her, one hand low on her back, looking devastatingly gorgeous in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt and black jacket highlighting the golden glow of his olive skin, the gleam of his eyes. His hair was brushed back, and he smelled as he always did, of pine and citrus, making Rose’s senses swim.

“You look,” Christos told her as he stood before her and let his gaze sweep admiringly over her from head to toe, “beautiful.”

It was a simple statement, and yet it was so sincerely said, with so much appreciative gleaming in his eyes, that Rose was left momentarily speechless.

“So do you,” she finally managed in little more than a squeak, and Christos chuckled.

“Then we are a pair. But I have one more thing to add to your perfection.” He took a slim box from the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Rose took it with fingers that trembled a little, because in moments like these, she felt like she had to pinch herself to test that it was all real. At the same time, she didn’t want to, because she was so afraid it wasn’t real after all. That some small thing could cause it to come crashing down, because a lot of her life had gone that way already.

Trying her best to banish such fears, Rose opened the box while Christos smiled on, letting out a soft exclamation of wonder at the necklace nestled within, a diamond-encrusted emerald on a delicate gold chain. “Christos, it’s beautiful.”