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“What I’m trying to say is that I know what you are doing is difficult. You’re putting your sister’s happiness—not to mention the welfare of this country—ahead of your own needs.” His hand still lay on Armando’s shoulder, and so he gave a squeeze. “I hope you know how grateful I am. Grateful and proud. When I step down, Corinthia will be in wonderful hands.”
For an aging man, he had an amazing grip. The pressure brought moisture to Armando’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“No, son, thank you. Now...” Lifting his hand, his father slapped him between the shoulder blades. “Let us go see what duties your sister has assigned to us, shall we?”
“I’ll be right there. I just have to make a quick phone call.”
“Don’t dally too long. I don’t want to go looking for you again.”
Armando chuckled. “Five minutes.”
“I will hold you to that,” his father replied, waggling a finger. “I love my daughter, but I refuse to deal with her bridal preparations by myself.”
“Coward.”
“Absolutely. One day you will have a daughter, and you will understand.”
He was probably right. “Don’t worry, you have my word.” And Armando always kept his promises.
His eyes flickered to the mistletoe. Unfortunately.
* * *
Instead of going shopping like she said, Rosa ended up spending the weekend at Christina’s Home, helping the residents with their Christmas baking. Working with the other women helped ground her, reminded her there were worse things in life than unrequited feelings. Seriously, what did it matter if Armando didn’t return her attraction? It wasn’t as if it was a surprise. She was a chubby, average personal assistant. And that wasn’t her insecurity talking. Those were simply the facts. She also had a job and a place to call home, which made her better off than a lot of people. To quote Fredo, which she hated doing even when he was right, she had it pretty damn good.
She’d get over her crush or whatever it was.
By the time she returned to work on Monday, she was in a much better place. In fact, she thought as she stepped into the elevator, she’d even go so far as to say her feelings were shifting back to normal. Why not? They crept up on her overnight—who’s to say they couldn’t disappear just as quickly? Right?
Right?
Armando was sitting at her desk when she walked in. Wearing one of his dark suits, his tie and pocket square a perfect Corinthian red, he was busy reading her computer screen and didn’t see her. Rosa’s insides turned end over end anyway. “Isn’t that desk a little small for you?” she asked. She was not trying to sound flirtatious; his long, lean figure dwarfed the writing table.
Nor did the way his eyes brightened when Armando looked mean anything. “I was looking for the notes on last week’s meeting with the American ambassador. He’s coming by this afternoon, and I deleted the copy you sent me.”
“You do that a lot.”
“What can I say? I don’t like a crowded inbox.”
“Thank goodness you have me, then.” She turned to hang up her coat on the coatrack in the corner.
“I know.”
Rosa paused. It was the same banter they’d exchanged dozens of times, only this time, the words sounded different. There was a note of melancholy attached to the gratitude that unnerved her. Slowly she draped her coat onto its brass hook. “It’s snowing outside,” she said. “I heard one of the guards say we might even see accumulation on the ground. Might be the first time in years Corinthia could have a white Christmas.”
Armando was looking at her now, not the computer. She could tell because her spine felt his attention and had begun to prickle. Still afraid to turn around, she made a show out of brushing the droplets of water from the blue wool. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I wanted...”
Hearing his exasperated sigh, Rosa stopped fussing with her coat and turned around. It wasn’t like Armando to sound this uncertain. It made her uneasy.
The contrite look on his face didn’t help. “I wanted to apologize...”
Oh, Lord, he was going to tell her he was sorry for kissing her. “It’s all right,” she cut in. “There is no need to apologize. It’s a silly holiday tradition.”
“Maybe, but my behavior the other morning crossed the line. I was inappropriate, and I apologize.”
In other words, he was sorry he’d made the suggestion. “That’s what happens during the holidays,” she said, forcing a smile. “All the celebrating makes people say things they don’t mean. Don’t worry, I didn’t take offense.”
