Page 22 of Winter Wedding for the Prince
“Don’t tell my family,” Armando whispered in her ear. Between the dark and the hand on her arm, the innocent comment sent a trail of goose bumps down her spine. “But I do not like classical music.”
“Since when?” Considering the way his sister and late mother had revered music, the confession wasn’t just shocking, it was almost treasonous.
“Since ever,” he replied. “Why do you think Arianna is the only one who still plays the piano? As soon as I could, I stopped lessons and haven’t touched a keyboard since.”
“I didn’t realize.” Both that he disliked classical music and that he played piano. Keeping her eyes forward, she leaned her shoulder closer to his. There was something naughty about whispering together in the dark. “How long did you have to take lessons?”
“Twelve very long years.”
That long? “Why didn’t you stop sooner?”
“Because it was expected I would become a master.”
Expected. Sadly his answer didn’t surprise her. So much of what he did stemmed from expectations or tradition. Even this concert, in a way. Made her wonder how long it had been since he did anything purely for fun.
She settled back against her seat as the music crescendoed over them. “Does this mean I’ll need to poke you in the ribs to keep you from nodding off?” she whispered.
“Don’t be silly. I never fall asleep.”
“Never?”
“Okay, not since I was twelve. I have a secret trick.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
Behind them, Vittorio Mastella, the head of security, gave a sharp cough, and Rosa bit her lip. Because it was the crown prince doing the whispering, no one was going to say anything directly, but apparently the security chief had no problem delivering a subtle hint. Armando smiled and winked. “I’ll tell you after the concert,” he whispered.
They spent the rest of the concert in silence. Unlike Armando, Rosa did enjoy classical music, although purely as an amateur. She hadn’t had many opportunities to enjoy it when she was married, since Fredo would only attend a concert if there was business involved. The few times they did attend, however, were some of the best memories of her marriage. She would sit in the dark and let the music send her to a world far away, to a place where she was beautiful and happy. Like the Rosa she used to be.
As the music washed over her tonight, she realized she already felt beautiful and happy. Whether it was the dress or Armando’s appreciative words or the two combined, she was content with herself for the first time in a long time. More than content—it was as though she’d woken up from a long sleep and remembered she was a woman. Her body was suddenly aware of even the lightest of touches. Armando shifted in his seat, and the brush of his pant leg against her ankle left her insides aching. It did not help that he shifted in his seat a lot. Nor the fact that his hand lingered on her forearm till midway through the concert, his long fingers absently tapping a melody against the lace. The more he tapped, the more she couldn’t stop remembering how he looked climbing out of the pool. Did he know what he was doing to her? The thoughts he was putting into her head? She had no business thinking of Armando this way, like a strong, desirable man. He was... Armando. Her boss. Her brother-in-law. Her future king.
And yet, his fingers kept toying with her lace sleeve, and she kept feeling beautiful, and the fantasies played in her head until the concert ended.
Until the lights in the hall brightened and she looked down at the orchestra seats only to find herself looking into the eyes of the one man capable of washing all her confidence away.
Fredo.
* * *
Armando noticed the moment the smile disappeared from Rosa’s face. It was inevitable, seeing how he couldn’t stop stealing glances at her all night long. He’d always considered her attractive, but tonight was different. With her hair clipped loosely at her neck, and that dress... She had to stop wearing those damn blazers and sweater sets. A body like hers, all soft curves made for a man to run his hands down, should never be hidden. Of course, he’d always known she had a good figure. What surprised him was that he was thinking about hands and curves. Apparently he wasn’t as sexually dead as he thought.
Now he followed her line of sight, zooming in on Fredo Marriota immediately. Rosa’s former husband was looking up at her with an expression of surprise and disbelief. Armando watched as, despite having a date of his own, the man openly assessed Rosa’s appearance. It was clear seeing Rosa in the royal box irritated him. His stare was callous and sharp and made Armando’s jaw clench.
