“Shall we stretch our legs?” He took her hand to help her rise. The absent stroke of his thumb across her knuckles caused sensuality to slither through her.
Before she could pull free of his disturbing touch, they had stepped into the stream of people in the corridor and someone said, “Rocco!”
“Jackson.” Rocco halted to shake hands with a good-looking man in a black tuxedo and a white silk scarf, then greeted the beautiful woman in a seafoam gown covered with an overlay of exquisite lace. “Brielle, it’s good to see you again.” He kissed both her cheeks. “Mira, are you familiar with the Visconti Group of hotels?”
“Of course. I tried to book into your five-star in Naples, but there was no room at the inn.”
“Oh? Let me make a call.” Jackson patted his jacket.
“No need. She’s staying with me now.” Rocco let his hand slide farther around her to settle on her hip. “My fiancée. Mira Braun,” he said, finishing the introduction.
The pride was in his voice again. Mira blushed despite the fact it was as much a performance as the arias they’d just heard.
“Of Vorstoben?” Jackson’s gaze sliced back to Rocco’s.
“I’m no longer with the company.” Mira strove for the matter-of-fact tone Rocco had mastered.
“How are the children?” Rocco smoothly changed the topic and looked to include Brielle. “Are you in Rome long?”
“Only tonight,” she said with regret. “Jackson had business so I came along. It’s our first night away since our son was born.” She wrinkled her nose, suggesting mixed feelings. “My mother is visiting or I wouldn’t have left him, but it’s nice to be on a proper date. It’s been ages.”
The look they shared was indulgent and naked with love, provoking a fierce longing in Mira. How did people find that? she wondered. For about five seconds in London, she had imagined a future for herself that looked like theirs, but even though that same man pressed her to his side, and she wore his ring, she already knew it would never happen. Not with him. Maybe not with anyone.
“I’ve promised Bree a glass of wine. You’ll have to excuse us,” Jackson said. “We’re heading home first thing tomorrow, but let’s talk soon,” he added to Rocco. “We’re in the final stages of our merger. Decisions need to be made.”
“I’ll have my assistant set it up. Ciao.”
As they melted into the milling crowd, Rocco’s hand on Mira’s waist squeezed. His mouth pressed into a line of satisfaction. “There is your first salvo, bellezza.”
“How do you mean?”
“The merger between Visconti and WBE. Until recently, they were bitter rivals. When Visconti Group began looking for a new construction firm a few years ago, they refused to use the same firm that WBE was using.”
“Vorstoben,” she said, guessing. “They chose you? And now you could take all the business from both companies?”
His chin went down in a single, significant nod. “I sure as hell won’t allow Otto to have it.”
She could see how pleased he was. It gave her a thrill to have been a small part of creating that opportunity for him.
She ought to be more pleased about the fact he intended to take business from Otto. She scolded herself and extricated from the warmth of his sheltering arm, earning a sharp look from him.
They spoke to a few more people, leaving a wake of gossip rippling behind them when they returned to their seats for the remainder ofRigoletto. By the end, she had Rocco’s pocket square in her hand and was dabbing it at her eyes.
In the car, he directed his driver to a restaurant, but Mira balked. They’d had a light meal before they dressed. “Surely we’ve made enough of a spectacle for one night? I’d like a break from being gawked at.”
“You do know those were stares of admiration and jealousy, don’t you? You’re very beautiful, Mira.”
“Please,” she scoffed, then tsked as she recalled, “I should have put my things in the car so you could drop me at a hotel. Can you have them sent over?”
“Home,” he instructed his driver, then told Mira, “You’ll stay with me. We’re engaged. That means we’re lovers.”
Alarm flashed through her, but his mouth only curled with irony.
“You can stay in the guest room.”
Silly Mira. It was all an act. He didn’t really want her.
She swallowed back a disturbingly thorny lump of disappointment.
