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“And even more beautiful when worn.” He took the pendant from the box, and Rose turned around so he could slip it about her neck. He did the clasp and then pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, making her both shiver and ache. “Shall we?” he murmured. Drawing a shaky breath, Rose nodded.

Hand in hand, they descended the stairs.

A silence fell upon the opulent ballroom as they made their entrance together. Rose clocked several speculative gazes, the narrowed, assessing looks of women, the interested and admiring glances of men. She also felt every single gaze drop to her bump, and a whisper ran around the room like an electric current.

They had decided not to mention anything about the baby. “It is private,” Esmerelda had insisted, “and no one needs to know our business.”

Rose was more than happy not to go into the details of how she’d gotten pregnant and who the biological father was; she told herself none of that mattered now, anyway, since she was with Christos. But she hadn’t considered just how much rampant and obvious speculation there would be, and she felt it like a palpable thing as they moved through the room.

Christos squeezed her hand. Rose smiled at him, noting his tense jaw and narrowed eyes even as he smiled. This had to be hard for him, too, she knew—because of both the loss of Luca and the reminder, such as it was, that the baby she carried wasn’t his. Suddenly, fiercely, Rose wished it was. And she wanted Christos to know that, to be sure of it. Tonight, she decided, she would forgo her fear and tell him she wanted to be with him as a wife with her husband. They might not be married yet, but in her heart, Rose had already said her vows.

* * *

Tension banded Christos’s temples as he moved through the ballroom, nodding along to the conversation drifting around him in its gossipy eddies and currents. No one was brazen enough to ask about Rose’s baby, but he felt their curiosity like a weight. He wasn’t lying, he told himself, by not explaining the situation, but he felt as if he was. He felt, more than ever, like he was living a lie. Even worse, he was living his brother’s life.

He let his gaze move over the crowded room as he looked for Rose. They’d been separated earlier in the evening, when his mother had taken charge, determined to introduce her prospective daughter-in-law to everyone who mattered, clearly proud of the beautiful young woman at her side.

And Rose was beautiful, stunningly so; as Christos’s gaze settled on her, he felt an ache of pride as well as love, and as ever, desire. Her dress rippled over her in a river of satin, and her hair, her glorious hair, was half tumbling from its pins in a way that made her look like a Renaissance painting, a work of art. Along with all the other emotions, he felt a primal sense of possession. She was his, even if her baby wasn’t. As if sensing the nature of his thoughts, she lifted her gaze and met his over the heads of the guests, a small, wry smile touching her lips. Christos smiled back, just as someone touched his arm and he heard a soft, pained voice say, “Christos.”

He turned, shock jolting through him when he saw who it was. Tiana, after all these years, looking as poised as ever, but with a hint of confusion in her soft brown eyes. He hadn’t seen her once since she’d broken their engagement when he’d been only twenty-five, eleven years ago; she’d married an Argentinian businessman and moved to South America for several years. He’d lost track of her after that.

“Tiana,” he murmured. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” Her gaze flitted to Rose across the room and then back again. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, and Christos tensed. Of all the guests in this room, besides Rose and his mother, only Tiana knew the child couldn’t be his. “Christos?” she asked in a wavering voice.

“Were you…mistaken, back then? Or did you lie to me?”

He took her arm and drew her away a little. “Why would I lie to you?”

“But…”

Christos knew she deserved his honesty, as loath as he was to give it. “The baby isn’t mine,” he told her in a low voice. “Obviously, that’s private information.”

Tiana’s eyes widened. “But…”

“It’s Luca’s,” he admitted heavily. “Through sperm donation. He and Rose never had a relationship, never even knew each other.”

Tiana’s expression cleared. “You’re marrying her to secure the heir?” she surmised. She, of course, knew about his grandfather’s will.

“Yes.” But, Christos wanted to say, that wasn’t the only reason he was marrying Rose. Far from it.

And yet was that the only reason she was marrying him?

He told himself it didn’t matter, but the prospect disquieted him all the same.

Tiana touched his hand. “Christos, I hope you’ll be happy together,” she said, sounding sincere. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us.”

“I understand why it didn’t, Tiana.” And truly, he did. “Do you have children?”

She nodded, her face suffused with shy pride. “Yes…three. A boy and two girls.”

He nodded, pleased for her, and yet the knowledge still hurt him in a way he didn’t want to think about. Tiana smiled again and moved off.

Christos stood there for a few moments, lost in thought. It had been hard to see her again, and yet it also felt like a kind of closure. He realized he wasn’t as unsettled as he’d expected to be. He felt a light touch on his arm, and he turned to see Rose.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently, and he nodded; he truly was.

“That was Tiana, my…former fiancée. She was curious about our…situation.” He nodded toward her bump. Rose frowned, her eyes soft with concern.