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Naturally, she was smiling when he spoke. She turned the smile in his direction, which only fed his agitation. “Is there a problem?” she asked.
Rather than answer, he continued walking, knowing she would follow. Once in the corridor, he led her past two additional entrances. They ended up in the gallery next to the grand arch.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked once he was certain they couldn’t be overheard.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Dear God, but she looked beautiful tonight. Her silk gown looked like cream poured over her body. Even as irritated as he was, he wanted to run his hands along every curve and sensual swell.
“I’m talking about you and Max’s friend,” he replied. “The way you’re laughing at everything he says.”
“Because he’s funny. Since when is that a crime?”
Since she wasn’t laughing with Armando, that’s when.
“Except that you’re my assistant. You were supposed to be by my side in case I need anything.” Not laughing it up with handsome foreigners.
“Come on, you’re not that needy, are you? Are you serious? I’m four seats away, not on the other side of the country. An extra twenty feet will hardly make a difference. Besides,” she added, folding her arms across her chest, “technically I’m not working. I’m here as a guest. That means I get to sit where I want.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to flirt with every man in the room.”
“Flirt with...?” It was the first time he had ever seen her flare her nostrils. Unfolding her arms, she held her hands stiffly by her side and leaned in. “It’s called enjoying myself.”
“It’s called flirting,” Armando charged back. “Tossing your hair over your shoulder, laughing. Like a peacock showing her plumage,” he muttered to the paintings on the wall. With Darius strutting in kind. Was it any wonder he’d lost his appetite?
“So what if I am?” Rosa asked, stepping up to his shoulder. “It’s been a long time since a man has found me attractive.”
Armando whipped his head around. “What are you talking about? I tell you that you’re attractive all the time.”
“I mean someone who isn’t... It’s nice, is all,” she said. Their shoulders knocked as she pushed past him toward the archway.
Armando stalked after her. She stood with her back to him, staring up at the Christmas tree. For a moment, his annoyance faded as he lost himself in the skin exposed by the drape of her dress.
Until the way his fingers itched to trace her spine reignited it again. “It’s inappropriate,” he snapped. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“Says who?” she asked, turning.
Said him. It killed Armando to watch her encouraging Darius’s attention when she had so easily brushed off his. “You’re my personal assistant,” he replied. “I expect you to behave with more decorum.”
Again, she folded her arms. “What would you have me do, Armando? This is your sister’s wedding rehearsal. Should I just ignore the man? Stop talking to him?”
That had been exactly what he wanted. Hearing the words aloud, however, he realized how unrealistic they sounded. “Just stop throwing yourself at him,” he said.
Rosa inhaled deeply through her nose. Though they sparkled, her eyes had none of the warmth they’d had the other night.
“No,” she said.
One word, spoken sharply like a slap. In fact, Armando’s reflexes stiffened as if it was one. “I beg your pardon?” This was where she usually turned passive-aggressive, agreeing while showing her displeasure with a sarcastic yes, Your Highness.
“I said no,” she repeated. The first time in three years that she had defied him.
It was the most arousing sight Armando had ever seen.
Taking another breath, she started walking toward him with careful, measured steps. “I’m not going to let people tell me what to do anymore. Not Fredo. Not you...”
“I am not Fredo,” Armando shot out. “Do not compare me to that bottom dweller.”
“Then stop acting like him!” she snapped back. “So long as I don’t hurt anyone, who I find attractive and who I don’t is none of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Armando grabbed her wrist. He regretted it as soon as she stiffened, but the agitation in his stomach had reached epic proportions. All he could picture was Darius’s handsome face and his big hands curling over those creamy shoulders. “Are you planning to kiss him?” he asked.
“That’s none of your—”
