Postcards From Rome: The Italian's Pregnant Virgin / A Proposal from the Italian Count / A Ring for Vincenzo's Heir

“You’re not seriously suggesting that we just go out to dinner as though nothing’s happened?”

“I am suggesting exactly that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Get dressed. We are leaving to go to dinner.”

She growled and got off the table, moving back over to her clothes on unsteady legs. She picked up the lacy underwear that had been provided by Renzo’s stylist and slipped them up her legs, not even bothering to enjoy the lush feel of the fabric as she had been doing every other time before.

There was no pausing for lushness when you’d just found out you were carrying not one, but two babies.

She made quick work of the rest of her clothes. At least, as quick work as she could possibly make of them with her trembling fingers. “I’m ready,” she snapped.

“Very good. Now, let us cease with the dramatics and go to dinner.”

He all but hauled her out of the office, taking her to his sports car, where he yanked open the passenger-side door and held it for her.

She looked up at him, at his inscrutable face that was very much like a cloudy sky. She could tell a storm was gathering there, but she couldn’t quite make out why. Then, she jerked her focus away from him and got into the car, clasping her hands tightly in her lap and staring straight ahead.

He closed the door, then got in on his side, bringing the engine to life with an angry roar and tearing out of the parking lot like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

“You dare call me dramatic?” she asked. “If this isn’t dramatic, I don’t know what is.”

“I only just found out that I’m having two children, not one. If any of us is entitled to a bit of drama...”

“You seem to discount my role in this,” she fired back. “At every turn, in fact, you treat me as nothing more than a vessel. Not understanding at all that there is a bit of work that goes into this. Some labor, if you will.”

“Modern medicine makes it all quite simple.”

“That is...well and truly spoken only like a man. What about what this is going to do to my body? It’s going to leave me with stretch marks and then some.” She didn’t actually care about that, but she felt like poking him. Goading him. She wanted to make him feel something. Because for whatever reason this revelation had rocked her entire world, made her feel as though she herself had been tilted on her very axis. She didn’t think he had a right to be more upset than she was. And maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe it was hormones. But she didn’t particularly care.

“I will get you whatever surgery you want in order to return your body to its former glory. If you’re concerned about what lovers will be able to get afterward, don’t be.”

That statement was almost laughable.

“I am not concerned about lovers,” she said. “My life is not dependent on what other people think. Been there, done that, got rid of the overly starched ankle-length dresses. But what about what I think?”

“You are impossible. And a contradiction.”

He drove on with a bit too much fervor through the narrow streets, practically careening around every corner, forcing her to grip the door handle as they made their way through town.

They stopped in front of a small café, and he got out, handing the keys to a valet in front of the door. It took her a moment to realize that he was not coming around to open the door for her. She huffed, doing it herself and getting out, gathering the fabric of her skirt and getting herself in order once she was fully straightened.

“That was not very gentlemanly,” she said, rounding the front of the car and taking as big a step as her skirt would allow.

“I am very sorry. It has been said that I am perhaps not very gentlemanly. In fact, I believe it was said recently by you.”

“Perhaps you should listen to the feedback.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, the heat from his hand shocking. His fingertips rested just beneath the curve of her breast, making her heart beat faster, stronger.

“I’m very sorry,” he said, his voice husky. “Please say you’ll forgive me. At least in time for the paparazzi to catch up with us. I would not want pictures of our dinner to go into the paper with you looking stormy.”

“Oh, perish the thought. We cannot have anything damaging your precious reputation.”

“Our association is entirely for my reputation. You will not ruin this. If you do, I promise I will make you pay. I will take money out of our agreement so quickly it will make your head spin. You do not want to play games with me, Esther.”

He whispered those words in her ear, and for all the world he would look like a lover telling secrets. They would never guess that it was a man on the brink issuing threats.

It galled her that they worked.

He walked them inside, without being stopped by anyone, and went to a table that he had undoubtedly sat at many times before. He did pull her chair out for her, making a gentlemanly show there as he had failed to do at the car.

“Sparkling water,” he said to the waiter when he came by.

“What if I wanted something else?” she asked, just to continue prodding at him.

“Your options are limited, as you cannot drink alcohol.”

“Still. Maybe I wanted juice.”

“Did you want juice?” he asked, his tone inflexible.

“No,” she said, feeling defeated by that.

“Then behave yourself.”

He took control like that with the rest of the dinner, proceeding to order her food—because he knew what the best dishes were at the restaurant—and not listening to any of her protestations.

She didn’t know why she should find that particularly surprising. He had done that from the beginning. She had tried to come to him, had tried to do things on her own terms, but he had taken the reins at almost every turn.

Suddenly, sitting there in this restaurant that was so far outside her experience—would have been outside her scope for imagination only a few weeks earlier—she had the sensation that she was being pulled down beneath the surface. That she was out in the middle of the sea, unable to grab hold of anything that might anchor her.

She was afraid she might drown.

She took a deep breath, tried to disguise the fact that it was just short of a gasp.

Finally, their dessert plates were cleared, and Esther felt like she might be able to approach breathing normally again. Soon, they would be back at the villa. And while she still found his palatial home overwhelming, it was at least a familiar sort of overwhelming. Or rather, it had become so over the past few days.

Then, she looked up at him, and that brief moment of sanity melted into nothing. There was a strange look in his eye, one of purpose and determination. And if there was one thing she knew about Renzo it was that he was immovable at the best of times. Infused with an extra sense of purpose and he would be all-consuming.

She didn’t want to be consumed by him. Not in any capacity. Looking into his dark eyes now, an answering twist low in her stomach, she wasn’t certain she could avoid it.

He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket then, his dark eyes never wavering from hers, and then he got out of his chair, kneeling in front of her. She couldn’t breathe. If she had had the sensation of drowning before, it had become something even more profound now. Like being swept up in a tide that she couldn’t swim against. The effect those eyes always had on her.

The effect he seemed to have on her.

She was supposed to be stronger than this. Smarter than this. Immune to the charms of men. Especially men like him. Men who sought to control the world around them, from the people who populated their surroundings, to the homes they lived in, all the way down to the elements. She imagined that if a weather report disagreed with Renzo, he would rail at that until it changed its mind.

She knew all about men like that. Knew all about the importance of staying away from them.

Her mother had been normal once. That was something Esther wasn’t supposed to know. But she had found the pictures. Had seen photographs of her mother as a young girl, dressed in the trends of the day, looking very much like any average girl might have.