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“I’ll see you Monday?” he asked instead.
“Of course.”
“And no more avoiding each other?”
You couldn’t blame him for asking. The last time, just mentioning her marriage had her dodging him for days. Who was to say what this last conversation might cause. Especially considering her expression—part dazed and part shadowed.
Mirrored how he felt inside.
They exchanged good-nights, then the driver closed the door. As Armando watched the rear lights disappear into the darkness, he kicked himself for not stealing another kiss.
What excuse would he give, though? There was definitely no mistletoe hanging above them this time, and “I want to be close to you” sounded too much like a line, even if it was true.
The kiss upstairs had been born from admiration. When they were establishing the shelter, he’d heard story after story of women who found the strength to walk away despite being told by their abusive husbands that they would never survive on their own. To leave and start over took real courage. But then, he’d always known Rosa was strong. Hell, he’d been drawing on her strength for three years.
She was wrong, too. Years of verbal debasement were abuse; she might not have had bruises, but she’d been hurt nonetheless. Fredo’s rising financial career had just ground to a halt. No way would Armando reward the man after what he did. Telling Rosa she was an embarrassment? Killing her self-esteem? If only he could throw people in the dungeon.
“Pardon me, Your Highness. Is something wrong? It’s just that you’ve been standing in the middle of the driveway for a while now,” his security guard added when Armando turned to look at him, “and I was—”
“Lost in thought,” Armando replied. First Daniela, now the guard. What was it about his kissing Rosa that required people to ask if he was all right?
On the other hand, both times had left him off balance. It felt like something was shifting inside him—something deeper than sexual attraction. There was a yearning inside him that hadn’t been there before, and, incredible as it sounded, Rosa was the trigger. If he didn’t know better, he would think he was developing feelings for her.
Impossible. He’d already had the love of his life. His heart was buried with her. He hadn’t felt anything for three years. Tonight was simply a product of traumatic confessions and Christmas lights. Nothing more. Turning on his heel, he headed back inside.
There had better be mistletoe hanging in that archway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NEXT MORNING, instead of Christmas shopping like she planned, Rosa left her local coffee shop and headed for the palace. She needed a bit of grounding. After Armando had walked her to the car, she’d spent the entire ride home, not to mention most of the early hours, trying not to relive their kiss. No matter how hard she focused on other things, the memory of Armando’s lips pressed to hers kept forcing its way to the front. For crying out loud, she even tasted him in her dreams.
Wasn’t it just her luck? Three years of longing for someone to awaken the woman inside her, and it was Armando, the one man in Corinthia miles beyond her reach. If she didn’t have interest in dating before, how would she ever now, having experienced the gold standard of kisses?
Which was why she needed a second shot of reality, to hammer home the fact that last night was nothing but a fantasy.
Despite the early hour, the lights in the grand archway were already lit in preparation for the day’s tours. Or maybe Armando never turned them off. Either way, the arrival of day had washed away last night’s magic. Whatever spirits had been dancing along the walls were back in hiding as well, giving Armando and the rest of the royal family a rest from their presence.
The sight of plain gray walls put Rosa on firmer mental ground. Gripping the balustrade, she peered upward to find a sprig of green and berries hanging from the chandelier.
Did she really think there wouldn’t be?
“Rosa?”
So much for grounded. One word from the familiar voice and her stomach erupted in a swarm of butterflies. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Armando walking toward her. Seemed impossible, but he looked more handsome than he did last night. His faded jeans and black turtleneck sweater were a far cry from the tuxedo, but he wore them as with the same elegance. Casual was a look he did well. Pity his subjects didn’t get to see him like this—women would be storming the gate.
The closer he got, the faster the butterflies flapped. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you took the weekend off to finish your Christmas shopping.”
“I left my list in my office,” she lied. “Can’t very well shop without one. Well, I could, but I might forget someone. Or something. What about you?” she asked, quickly changing subjects before her babbling got out of control. “What has you wandering the halls this early in the morning?”
