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‘That’s the whole point. I want you to go shopping and buy everything that catches your eye. Anything you want. Don’t look at the prices.’
The smile she bestowed him with made him feel like he’d grown three feet.
Clara watched one of the guards who’d accompanied her and Alessia on their shopping trip load all her new possessions in the boot of the car. Soon, the other car that had accompanied them—Alessia was a princess and so needed protection—was being loaded too.
It had been the most fantastic shopping trip of her entire life. Even better, she’d had company for it, something she’d not had since she was an adolescent and her brother had made his housekeeper take her shopping when she needed new clothes and stuff. To go shopping with a friend had been wonderful and she very much hoped it was something they would do again in her year in Ceres.
They were welcomed back at the castle by a horde of reporters at the gate to the Berruti family’s private entrance. Pressing her face to the window in fascination, Clara was almost blinded by the flash of cameras.
‘They’re here for you,’ Alessia said.
‘What for?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m the girl hanging from the helicopter in the arms of her prince. I suppose that makes me newsworthy.’
She’d have to get Marcelo to send that picture to her as soon as she got the new phone she’d bought set up. It had been like looking at a picture from a movie still, with the suave Knight in Black Tuxedo securely holding the ragged woman he’d just saved. Clara’s only disappointment—apart from her bum looking big—was that the photographer had failed to capture Bob in it.
When the cars came to a stop, three men descended on them and efficiently emptied Clara’s purchases so all she was left to carry was her new swanky handbag, which had cost more than her monthly salary.
After hugging Alessia and thanking her for being such great company, Clara opened the door into Marcelo’s quarters.
She found him in his private garden with Bob, catching the last of the day’s sun on his terrace. He barely moved a muscle from his seat at the outdoor table when she made her grand entrance.
‘Ta-da,’ she said and did a twirl. ‘What do you think?’
Bob told her what he thought before Marcelo did, dashing over to paw at her ankles.
‘That’s a nice dress,’ Marcelo finally answered.
‘Isn’t it?’ she agreed, delighted with her dress but less than delighted with Marcelo’s guarded expression. She’d hoped for a bit more enthusiasm for a dress that she’d completely disregarded his advice for and looked at the price of. Even she in all her excitement had baulked at spending two months’ salary on a dress but only for a few seconds. She’d never felt such soft silken material against her skin before or checked her reflection out at every mirror and window she subsequently passed. ‘Between you and me, I needed to get out of Alessia’s dress. At one point I lost all feeling in my boobs. How’s your day been?’
There was the faintest twitch of his lips. ‘Busy.’
‘Booked a date for our wedding?’
‘All set for four weeks yesterday.’
‘I’ll pop it in my diary so I don’t forget,’ she teased, and was rewarded with the expressionless gorgeous face breaking into a shaking head smile. That was better. She liked it when Marcelo smiled. It set off a warm glow in her belly. ‘Anything you need me to do?’
‘No.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.’
‘Oh, good, I’m starving, and it means we’ve got time for you to check out what I’ve bought.’
‘Didn’t Alessia check it all for you?’
‘Yep. She was great, but it’s your arm I’ll be seen on and I don’t want to embarrass you by wearing things you find unsuitable.’ Clara was determined to be the best public wife she could be to this daring and generous man. Even though he’d failed to go shopping with her, he’d spent so much time in her head that day he might as well have been there. Every item she’d bought had been with Marcelo’s face in mind hoping he’d like it as much as she did. ‘Also, I have a surprise for you.’
He raised a questioning eyebrow and got to his feet.
Itching to dive through all her purchases, Clara skipped up the stairs.
All her new stuff had been laid neatly in her dressing room. Her mum had had a dressing room too, much smaller than this but, to little Clara, it had been the most fascinating place on earth. An old memory flashed through her of sitting at the dressing table and smearing red lipstick on and trying to use it as blush like she’d seen her mum do and then prancing into the bedroom to show it off. Her mum, who’d been in bed with another of her many headaches, had told her she looked like a beautiful clown.
‘What are you thinking?’ Marcelo asked, noticing how Clara had seemed to have retreated into her own world. Usually, she was so present. He supposed that’s why his quarters had felt so still without her. Only one day in her company and her absence had been tangible.
She blinked and met his stare with a smile. ‘About my mum.’
