HALINA GAZED AT her reflection in the mirror, noting the colour in her cheeks, the new sparkle in her eyes. It had been two weeks since she’d arrived in Rome with Rico and the nausea was finally abating, thanks to plenty of rest, healthy food and fresh air, as well as simple time. She was nearly at the end of her first trimester, and her pregnancy—her baby—was becoming more real with every passing day.
The last two weeks had been surprisingly unpressured. Rico had been focused on restoring her health, and Halina had appreciated the chance to take long naps and baths, or simply sit out in the sun on the huge terrace off Rico’s apartment. He’d hired a cook to make fresh, nourishing meals and had cancelled all his social engagements so he could be home as much as possible in the evenings after work.
He was acting every inch the loving, considerate husband except...he wasn’t. After that first shocking conversation when he’d told her about his childhood, Rico had buttoned up, sharing no personal details, inviting no intimate conversations. Halina had missed it, had tried several times to engage him again, but any questions about his childhood, his feelings, his very self, had been firmly and sometimes brusquely shot down. Halina had a suspicion he regretted sharing as much as he had with her, and this was his way of retrenching.
That had been most apparent when they’d visited the museum dedicated to Eros at the Colosseum. They’d strolled through the galleries of frescoes and sculpture, terracotta vases and bas-reliefs, while Halina had read from the guidebook.
‘The ancient poets describe Eros as an invincible force that can bring happiness but also destroy it.’
Rico had snorted, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. ‘The latter is certainly true.’
Halina had glanced at him over the edge of the guidebook. ‘You sound as if you’ve been in love,’ she’d remarked, trying not to feel an inconvenient twinge of jealousy at the thought. Was that why he kept to mistresses, none of whom lasted longer than a week? To keep his heart from being broken again?
‘Not in love,’ Rico had corrected, then had refused to say anything more.
‘I’ve never been in love,’ Halina had remarked with an insouciant shrug. ‘Never even close. Never had the chance.’
‘Consider yourself fortunate, then.’
‘What have you got against it?’ She tried to keep her voice light, to disguise the hurt and, yes, the yearning she knew she felt. She might never have been in love but she wanted to be one day. And if she married Rico, when she married him, it seemed likely that she wouldn’t be.
‘You heard what the ancient poets said.’ Rico paused to study a statue of Eros stringing his bow. ‘It can destroy happiness. Who wants to tangle with that? And what about the whole concept of love being an arrow that hits you?’ He nodded towards the marble figure. ‘Something that is alleged to bring joy actually brings pain. That sounds about right.’
Halina stopped where she was and lowered the guidebook. ‘Who hurt you, Rico?’ she asked quietly. He jerked as if shot by the aforementioned arrow, his eyes narrowed.
‘No one.’
‘That can’t be true, not with the way you’re talking.’
He shrugged one powerful shoulder. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘How long ago?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it, Halina.’ His tone couldn’t have been more repressive, and Halina didn’t have the courage to press any more. But she wondered. Oh, how she wondered. What kind of woman had captured Rico’s heart and made him as cold and closed-off as he was?
Because that was what she’d discovered over the last two weeks, pleasant as they had been. Rico had no interest in getting to know her, or being known himself. No desire to have a conversation that probed more deeply than the weather or the latest films. There was no need to deepen their relationship now that they were going to be married.
Tonight’s party would be his way of introducing her to Roman society as his wife-to-be, and Halina quailed at the thought. She’d only been to one party before, and look how that had turned out. How was she going to be able to manage with everyone’s eyes on her, and Rico remaining so solicitous yet so cold?
‘Halina?’ He knocked on the door of her bedroom. ‘The limo is here.’
‘All right.’ Taking a deep breath, Halina gave her reflection one last inspecting glance. Yesterday Rico had taken her to the prestigious Via dei Condotti to shop in the city’s most exclusive boutiques. She’d emerged from the various shops with half a dozen gold-corded bags filled with everything imaginable—lingerie, day dresses, casual clothes, evening gowns.
‘I’m not sure what the point of all this is,’ she’d told Rico. ‘I’m going to start getting bigger soon and nothing will fit.’
He’d merely shrugged. ‘You can wear them again after the baby is born. And you have a responsibility to look the part as my wife.’
A remark that had made her want to ask what their marriage was going to look like, what Rico expected from her in all sorts of ways. But she’d held her tongue because she wasn’t ready for that conversation. Two weeks of rest had helped her a great deal in recovering both physically and emotionally from the last couple of harrowing months, but she didn’t think she had the strength yet to tackle that emotional, explosive subject.
‘I’m ready,’ she called
and, reaching for her gauzy wrap, she turned to the door. She took a deep breath and opened it to find Rico standing there, looking as devastatingly sexy and charismatic in his tuxedo as he had when she’d first laid eyes on him.
‘Bella,’ Rico murmured, his pupils flaring as his gaze travelled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He made no effort to disguise the heat simmering in the silvery depths of his eyes. ‘Molta bella.’
Pleasure coiled within her like a tightly wound spring. She’d taken care with her appearance, styling her hair in a complicated up-do and applying make-up that was both subtle and effective, emphasising her lush mouth and dark eyes. As for the dress...
She’d chosen to wear one Rico hadn’t seen during their shopping trip, an emerald-green full-length evening gown with a halter top and a plunging neckline. It was quite the most daring and sexy thing she’d even worn, and when Rico looked at her with so much unabashed desire she felt heady and powerful. She felt the way she had that fateful night two and a half months ago, and realised afresh how and why it had led her to abandon all common sense.