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And more astounding, Ranieri found he meant it.
Her gaze rose to meet his again and they were not kissing. Not now. Yet somehow, that was what this moment felt like anyway. There was heat, intensity. There was that breathlessness. He wasn’t sure that he had ever felt connected like this to anyone.
The closest he had ever come had been when he’d been deep inside a woman, and he would not compare the experiences. This felt...sacred.
It occurred to him to pay attention to where he was. The clink of the glasses around them, the sparkling conversations. The eyes on them, everywhere, even as Annika quietly took him apart.
He assured himself that all of this was about sex. Sex and the year ahead, that was all.
That was all it ever could be.
As the dinner wore on, Annika lost that hint of melancholy. Or emotion, of whatever stripe. She got up from her seat and walked around the table, talking to whoever stopped her, and Ranieri learned some more things about her then. That she was not, perhaps, as awkward as she always appeared at galas and the like. That here, with her friends nearby and only a few close business associates to contend with, she bloomed.
He wasn’t sure how it had never occurred to him that the secret of Annika Schuyler was simply that she was shy. Ranieri tried to tell himself that she was putting on an act here the same way she did elsewhere, but he couldn’t quite make himself believe it. He’d seen the genuine emotion in her gaze. More than that, he had tasted her now.
And a person could fake a great many things, but a kiss was not one of them.
Not the way Annika kissed him, as if she might die if she stopped.
Act or not, the result was the same. She had invited her friends. He had made strategic choices for the guest list and he knew full well that all of them would tell tales about Annika Schuyler Furlan’s easy, elegant hospitality for years to come.
He would have set about congratulating himself, but he had far more pressing things on his mind.
Like the marital relations she had seemed so shocked to discover he wanted.
Ranieri might have been shocked too, but he wanted her too badly. And while he had never been led around by the hardest part of him in his life, he hadn’t been married before, either. All bets appeared well and truly off.
After dinner was done, the string quartet began to play dancing music. Ranieri gritted his teeth and got to it.
Because that was the most expedient way to fast-forward to the part he was actually interested in. He strode over to Annika, involved in another deep discussion with her college cohort, and drew her away once more.
This time without an interrogation.
“That was rude,” she told him, looking over her shoulder at her friends.
“This is not a reunion,amore,” he told her, loud enough that her friends were not the only ones who could hear the endearment he used. “You are the bride. You have certain duties, and one of them, I am afraid, is that you must dance with your husband.”
He was suddenly overtly aware of the platinum band on his finger. And the slender, matching band Annika now wore, because she hadn’t wanted more diamonds. She had felt the single one she wore was more than enough. She had said as much, repeatedly, waving his family heirloom around as if she would have liked it if it flew off and shattered the nearest window.
Ranieri drew her out into the middle of the courtyard that been set aside as a dance floor, and pulled her into his arms at last. Where she fit too well and he was a little too invested in that.
He told himself that, too, was about sex.
The truth was he couldn’t recall the last time he had been required to wait.
The strings played, singing out an ancient song of love, and he whirled her around, again and again.
And while the music played, Ranieri did not think of winning or losing. He did not calculate the advantages here or plot out his next move. He only held her in his arms, this woman who had become his wife, gazed down at her, and lost himself in all that marvelous green.
Grave again, as if she could see the deepest parts of him. The things no one ever saw.
Finally, when the dancing was done, he drew her with him as he climbed the steps of the museum.
“Are you planning to make a speech?” she asked as they went. “What a good host you are, Ranieri. I doubt anyone saw that coming.”
He liked that dry little bit of teasing in her voice. It made him feel like himself again. It chased away all the unexpected weight of this odd emotion he couldn’t seem to dispel.
“Only in a manner of speaking,” he told her. “My ferocious reputation will remain spotless, I promise you.”
