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“Ah, ah,” I say, making a tsking sound. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Take one more step, and you’ll lose a limb.”
The threat is delivered in an almost bored tone, but it has the desired effect. His feet still, and his face drains of color. Beside me, Rosa gasps softly.
“Would you tone down the dramatics?” she grits out.
“Be very careful what you say to me right now, principessa,” I say without looking at her. “Leave,” I order the man.
He must really have a death wish because he hesitates. My grip on Rosa’s hand tightens when his brown eyes drift to her.
“It’s okay,” Rosa tells him, her voice soft. “I’ll text you and explain everything. You can go, Alexander.”
Fucking Alexander. That’s the artist she was just bragging about. How fucking ironic.
“Like hell you’ll text him,” I growl.
She shoots me an exasperated look but thankfully “Alexander” decides to listen to her, and after one last cutting glance at me, he walks away. As soon as he does so, I lead Rosa to the car. I open the passenger door and gesture for her to enter, and she does so without complaint.
A minute later, we’re driving away from the venue.
“He’s a fellow artist,” Rosa starts to explain after several minutes have passed. “You didn’t need to threaten him like that.”
“A fellow artist. The one who makes it impossible to ignore the beauty in art you said? Is that the same fellow artist you speak of?” I drawl. “Because he didn’t look like that to me. Not when you were staring at him with fucking hearts in your eyes. And not when he was holding onto your hand.”
I stop myself before I lose control and take a few deep breathes. “You truly have a beautiful smile, Rosa. Too bad it only seems to come out around men who will probably be dead soon.”
Her face blanches. “You-you can’t kill him!”
“Try me,” I mutter.
“No! You’re being dramatic. Before tonight, I never even met him. And are you so out of touch with reality that you would rationalize murder just because I talked to another man?”
My eyes flick over to her face for a second. “Trust me, sweetheart. Eighty percent of the time, there’s nothing rational about my thoughts when it comes to you. Why do you really think I chose you, Rosa?”
She looks down, “I don’t know, convenience.”
“You’re a smart girl. You know it’s more than that. Don’t you?
She blows out a soft breath. “Please, don’t kill him. I promise he’s nothing more than a fellow artist. He and I had a conversation tonight, that’s it.”
I grit my teeth and stare forward, unwilling to see the vulnerability in her eyes.
“Rosa, one of these days you’re going to ask me for something I can’t give you,” I tell her.
We ride in silence for a while until her curiosity becomes palpable. “So, why me? Out of all the women in the world, what led you to choose me? I lead a low-profile life, avoid excessive partying, and, by conventional standards, I might be considered boring and simple. So, why me?”
“Why you?” I respond with a genuine smile. “You’re intelligent, stunning, and there’s something about you that mesmerized me from the moment our paths crossed. I believe you felt it too, Rosa. There’s no denying the undeniable chemistry between us. I sensed it immediately, and I knew right then that I needed to make you my wife. I want to follow in myfather’s footsteps and build my own legacy and sweetheart, there is no other woman I want by myside. It can only be you.”
“ I was wrong,” she says gently. “I was wrong to ask you to stay away. I don’t want you to.”
“Do you truly mean that, principessa? Or are you just saying it so I’ll spare your friend?”
She responds with a playful tone, “Well, you did just splurge five million dollars on artwork for me, so it’s only fair I let you swing by my room and take a peek at it from time to time.”
Then, more seriously, she continues, “I mean it. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you the way I did the other day, and I’m sorry.” My anger has subsided. She goes on, “I’ve had some time to think, and you were right. We should, at the very least, try to make this marriage work. We owe it to ourselves to give it a chance.”
“As long as I don’t kill your friend,” I mutter in distaste.
“If you kill him, I’ll never forgive you,” Rosa says firmly.
