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To his horror, Christos felt tears sting his eyes, which he thankfully blinked back, but not before Rose had noticed. “Oh, Christos,” she said, her voice soft with sympathy.

He shook his head, a denial of her empathy as well as his admission. “I was glad of it,” he said firmly. “As I said before, it was an honor.” An honor he had given his life to live up to, even as he’d failed in the most elemental ways. Providing an heir. Protecting his brother.

To his surprise, she reached over to rest her hand on top of his, the touch gentle yet sizzling through him. “I know, Christos,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t, only that for a young boy, it had to have been a lot.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” he told her, and she just smiled, that soft look in her eyes making him think he hadn’t convinced her at all.

“If you’re worried about how it would affect your child—” he began stiffly, and she shook her head, her hair flying all around, her hand still resting on top of his.

“Actually, I wasn’t thinking about that just now. I was thinking about you. You’ve said a few times how fun Luca was, the light of all your lives. And I just wondered where that left you.”

He stared at her for a moment, shocked by her perception, disliking it and craving it at the same time. “Where it left me,” he repeated in a neutral voice.

“If he was the light of your lives,” she asked quietly, “what were you?”

* * *

Where had it left him? Always having to prove himself. Always feeling like he couldn’t. Abruptly Christos slipped his hand from under Rose’s, even though he missed the feel of her slender fingers resting on top of his. “I believe it’s time to go,” he told her, clenching his fists, striving to find a smile to lighten the tension he felt banding in his temples. “We have a plane to catch, after all.”

And now they were here, in the main cabin of the Amanti jet. Rose, who had been quietly thoughtful on the journey to the airport, was looking around the deep leather sofas and seats with an air of rueful wonder while Christos was trying to forget the emotions she’d unlocked inside him, ones he wasn’t ready to feel.

“So this is how the other half lives,” she remarked. “Do you just get used to it, so it feels normal?”

He shrugged, smiling, determined to keep the mood light and upbeat. They didn’t need any more heart-to-hearts to unsettle him or make him feel like he and Rose had more of a connection than they did. “It’s what I’m used to, I suppose, but I’m well aware that most people don’t fly by private jet, or even first class.”

“Or even at all,” Rose replied, and he inclined his head.

“True. And I usually fly commercially, but this particular trip required discretion.”

A cloud came over Rose’s face as she nibbled her lip. “I still can’t decide if I’m crazy, coming here like this.”

“You are not crazy,” he assured her. “This is the right thing to do, Rose. For your child, and for our family.” He spoke firmly, with conviction, and yet he could not keep a voice from whispering through him that it might not, perhaps, be the right thing for her.

She just didn’t know it yet.

* * *

Rose gazed out at the azure sky as the plane moved steadily east. They’d been flying for several hours, and after some desultory chitchat and a brief tour of the plane, Christos had excused himself and gone to work in the jet’s private study, leaving her alone in the main cabin with some sparkling water, a bowl of fresh fruit and her circling, spiraling thoughts.

Wanting—needing—to be distracted, Rose had flicked through the channels of the entertainment system, but none of the programs had appealed. She’d gotten up and paced the cabin, determinedly inspecting all of its fascinating features—recessed lighting, fresh flowers, chairs that reclined almost to horizontal and swiveled in every direction, and a flat-screen TV that was practically as big as a movie screen. She could get used to this kind of luxury, she mused, and she was certainly going to enjoy it, but…

Did she want it for her baby?

One hand crept to her bump and rested there, cradling the precious life within. Earlier she’d told Christos she hadn’t been thinking about her baby’s future when she’d asked him about his childhood, and that had been true, but…she recognized now that it was an ever-present worry. Was this kind of privilege and responsibility what she wanted for this child she already loved so much? And if it wasn’t, how would she explain to her son or daughter, years later, that they could have been the heir to an estate and a fortune, but in her pride or maybe just her foolishness, she’d chosen to have them live a hand-to-mouth existence instead? Hardly a fair trade-off.

And was it even one Christos Amanti would let her make?

What if he acted on all her formless fears about being sidelined in her own child’s life? Rejected again, like her aunt and uncle had done, but in so much worse a way? Or was she being paranoid because she knew from bitter experience just how much that hurt?

A restless sigh escaped her as she flung herself onto one of the comfortable sofas, the leather buttery soft as she sank into it, tucking her legs up and resting her chin on her knees. Even though Christos could be so solicitous, his autocratic tendencies still unnerved her. She did not want to spend the next three months, never mind her whole life, fighting against a family who wanted her in the shadows at every single turn.

And yet…he could be kind, Rose reflected, and thoughtful. Sometimes he seemed sad and even vulnerable in a way she suspected he hated, but which made her ache both to know him more and to comfort him. To help him be the lighter man she thought he could be, not bearing the responsibility of the world on his broad shoulders or having to be so serious because his brother hadn’t been. She wanted to meet that need inside him he didn’t seem to like admitting to, and that was all without considering her overwhelming physical response to his touch. She’d unthinkingly put her hand on top of his earlier today, and instantly she’d been reminded of how he affected her. How much. Just the feel of his warm skin under her palm had made a pulse of longing beat deep inside her.

Combined with her emotional response, it was scary stuff indeed, but it was also heady and exciting. She’d never had this kind of response to a man before. And yes, Christos was rich and powerful and crazy good-looking, so probably anyone with a pulse would have a response to him. But she still felt like it was more than that. Deeper, even after such a short time.

But was she crazy to be thinking this way? Dreaming about a man who already held way too much power over her life, simply because she’d been alone for so long?

“I’m sorry I left you for as long as I did.”