She balked at the compliment, far too used to being faulted if she was noticed.
“I think we can do better than those plain earrings, though,” he added.
And there was the criticism.
“These were a gift from my mother.” She protectively pinched the diamond studs in her lobes. “I always wear them.” She flashed a look that dared him to disparage them.
“I only meant you should wear these.” He approached with that energy of a funnel cloud that threatened to pick her up and draw her in.
The box he opened revealed diamond studs in a platinum setting, each holding a dangling arrangement of three step-cut diamonds. They formed the shape of a tower atop the pink, rectangular sapphires suspended below them.
They were stunning and matched her gown.
“If you prefer your own—”
“No. I’ll wear them. When you asked if I was wearing pink, I thought you wanted to match your pocket square.” She flicked a nervous glance to where he’d left the traditional white exposed the requisite centimeter to match the glimpse of his shirt cuffs below his jacket sleeves.
He was in another tuxedo, this one as supremely well-made as last night’s. It hugged his musculature so he was equal parts enthralling and intimidating.
He held out his hand as she removed her own earrings, then carefully secured her mother’s studs into the box before he closed it and set it aside.
She moved to the mirror in the foyer to put the new earrings in and swept her hair back behind her shoulders, turning her head each way to study the effect. They sparkled and swayed, feeling heavy, but in a way that made her feel adorned and pretty.
“Molta bella,” he said, coming to stand behind her. In the mirror, she watched his gaze slither down her back to her heels. “This, tesoro mio, is how you make a statement.”
Her stomach swooped. She reminded herself that his flattery meant nothing and ducked away to collect her pocketbook from where she’d left it.
“Why do you shut down every time I compliment you?” He pivoted to study her from across the room.
“You’re complimenting a dress and earrings you paid for,” she said dismissively. “Thank you?”
“I was complimentingyou, Mirabella.”
He’d been calling her that all day, but… “That’s not my name.”
“I know. But it’s pretty. Like you. Do you not like it?”
She wasn’t sure. Every time he called her that she felt singled out, but also inwardly pleased. It was an endearment he had created for her and only he could get away with because they were engaged.
Except they weren’t.
“I’d prefer you to save the flattery for when we have an audience. I’ve seen you with truly beautiful people. Don’t patronize me by pretending I’m in their league. I already struggle to trust you.”
“Talk about flattery.” His tone was edged with dark humor. “You’ve kept tabs on my dates?”
A blush stung her cheeks. Hard.
“You knowIcan’t help thinkingyouhave ulterior motives, don’t you?” he chided.
“Exactly! So why are you laying things on so thick? It makes me think you’re buttering me up for something.”
“We’re back to London?” His mouth tightened. “I thought I made it clear that Otto has nothing to do with this.” He pointed between them.
“There is nothis,” she hissed, copying his motion. Whatever relationship they were pretending to have wasn’t real.
“Fine. You don’t want to have sex with me. Message received,” he said crisply.
“No, I meant—” She clacked her teeth shut and clenched her eyes in mortification.
