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‘You’ll move to Madrid?’
Amelia blinked. She was still processing the monumental agreement she’d just entered into and he was already firing onto the next point of negotiation, without giving her so much as a moment to breathe.
‘But... I live in England. I have a job...’ she pointed out, but weakly, more weakly than she would have liked. Damn it, this was supposed to be on her terms and he was pushing all her buttons to get what he wanted.
‘The same could be said for me.’
She bit down on her lip, swallowing past a lump of uncertainty. Her whole world was about to change—she was having a baby. Fighting change was going to get her precisely nowhere. Leaving her job was inevitable—did it m
ake a difference if that was in six months or now? From the perspective of the children she was teaching, it would be better for them to have a new teacher at the start of the year rather than halfway through.
She could leave her job—temporarily. But to move to Madrid?
She’d run a mile from this very world he inhabited.
Her time in Italy, as a diSalvo, had been harrowing. She thought of the women who’d befriended her as a teenager, using her as a way to get to her brother. The ‘friends’ who’d only been jealous—one in particular who’d got Amelia drunk and then taken unflattering photographs of her passed out and shared them across social media. Men who’d seen her as a new, shiny toy on their society scene and done whatever they could to get her into bed. Only she’d learned her lesson from Penny: Amelia was no one’s plaything.
And marriage? Marriage to a man like this? How many of the men who’d flirted with her and tried to tempt her to become their mistress had been married? Was that the kind of future she had in store? Marriage to a man like Antonio, but marriage in name only?
She’d run a mile from this world, and with very good reason. Her time in Italy had been miserable. And though she’d loved her father and brother, they couldn’t see that the way they lived wasn’t something she wanted any part of. They couldn’t see how ill suited she was for that lifestyle.
Her eyes swept shut as she thought of the life she’d carved out for herself and felt it disappearing from her, like a ship sinking into a silent, deathly ocean.
Perhaps her distress showed in her face because he was suddenly solicitous. ‘You will like Madrid, hermosa.’
‘It’s not about Madrid,’ she said frankly, worrying at her lower lip.
‘Then what is it?’
How could she tell him? To admit vulnerabilities to a man like Antonio was to give him a weapon with which to wound her. And she was smarter than that!
‘It’s just a lot to ask of me,’ she covered awkwardly. ‘Particularly when you aren’t even willing to consider moving to the UK.’
‘I cannot do my work from the middle of nowhere,’ he said simply.
‘And what of my work?’ She couldn’t resist asking, though she’d already made her peace with the sense of leaving her job sooner rather than later.
‘You are going to have to stop working at some point,’ he said with infuriating logic—as though six months was the same as six days! ‘Why not now?’
‘Because I love my job,’ she said, aware that she was being stubborn purely for the sake of it. She expelled a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, not noticing the way his eyes followed the simple gesture as though transfixed. ‘But I will think about it.’
His eyes glowed. ‘Good. Then it is done.’
Amelia blinked rapidly. ‘What’s done?’
He walked away from her, towards his desk, and retrieved something, then a moment later was standing in front of her. ‘Our engagement.’ He reached for her hand and she was too shell-shocked to react. He put something in it and she looked down to see a small velvet box. She flipped it open on autopilot and couldn’t help the small sound of admiration that escaped her lips at the sight of the ring.
An enormous turquoise gem, square-shaped, sat in the centre and it was surrounded by sparkling white diamonds on each side, so that it glistened and shone. The band was platinum and there were delicate swirls on either side.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said with a frown, because it was so much lovelier and more elegant than she would have credited Antonio with choosing.
He made a gruff noise of agreement then slid it onto her finger. They both stared down at it, and she was mesmerised by the sight of it on her finger.
‘It was my grandmother’s,’ he said after a moment. ‘She had eyes like yours.’
Amelia blinked at this reference to his forebear, as it reminded her obliquely of the feud that lay between them.
She didn’t want to think about it in that moment. It was hardly a romantic marriage proposal, but it was still a proposal and she would have preferred it not to be tainted by talk of the animosity that flowed between their families.
