It was a surprise to him that he quite liked it.
He was mulling that over when Hannah came marching into the office, bringing the scent of snow from outside with her. She stopped dead when she saw him, and he thought, once again, that it took her a moment too long to produce that polite smile of hers.
“How did things go?” she asked, no trace of any hesitation in her voice. “I was delighted to see that the hotel did not crumble in my absence.”
But she smiled a little wider to show she was kidding.
“I didn’t know how I would like it,” he told her. “If you want to know the real truth, I would have told you that I had no other skills than cooking.”
“On the contrary,” she assured him. “Léontine made a point of coming to speak to me when I came in. She wanted to make sure that I knew that you handled everything beautifully and impressed the entire concierge staff. In case you were looking for validation.”
He was Antonluca Aniello. It was never his goal to achieve external validation. It was not required, because such was his talent.
On the other hand, he found himself quite pleased indeed that he received such rave reviews. And from such an unlikely source as the ferocious French concierge who madeedginessseem plush and soft.
He did not know how to express that, so instead he cleared his throat and said, “How was your trip?”
“It went well,” Hannah replied.
She moved past him, being very careful that no part of either one of them brushed against the other, though he felt certain she was as aware of him as he was of her. That awareness buzzed around them and lit him up inside. She went around behind her desk and stacked up some papers, exchanging them with whatever she had in her bag.
And she kept up the easy, professional talk as she did it. “It always surprises me how much members of certain tax brackets, where the air is always rarified, truly enjoy pretending that they are normal people for a day.”
“Wealth is isolating,” Antonluca replied, without realizing he meant to say such a thing. He blinked, then continued. “That isn’t a complaint, I hasten to add. But I am not at all surprised that a great many wealthy people like to create feelings of authenticity here and there.”
“It was certainly that,” Hannah said. “If authenticity comes with the ability to wander about a crowded city as if it was theirs alone while receiving priority treatment at every turn.”
“For them, it does,” he replied.
She was still wearing her coat as she straightened from her desk. He noticed it because it fell open over the dress she was wearing, a lovely winter white that she’d been wearing earlier and seemed particularly perfect, today.
For a long moment, they gazed at each other.
And Antonluca did not know what to say, so he simply held out his hand and waited.
He thought that a clock was ticking as he waited for her to put her hand in his, but there was no ticking clock in this office. It turned out, he discovered after a few moments, that it was merely his heart. Keeping time. Keeping him company, until, with a deep breath that he could actually feel in every part of him, she slipped her hand into his.
Then he stood there without moving, because this reminded him too much of that first night in New York. Her delicate-looking but surprisingly strong hand in his. That compelling green gaze of hers and the way the air seemed to change between them.
And he was certain that he meant to say something, but all he could do was feel the full circle of this. That moment to this, like a straight line. As if there had never been any deviation. As if they’d always been meant to come directly here.
He felt something inside him, like a deep hard pull from the deepest part of him. Some kind of well springing up from part of him that he wasn’t sure he even knew.
“Hannah,” he began.
She squeezed his hand and her smile changed, but he couldn’t have said how. Only that it did.
“Shall we go get married, then?” she asked, a shade or two too brightly.
And he was…notfrustrated, not quite that as she pulled her hand back and stepped in front of him to head out of the office. Leaving him to trail behind her, watching as she nodded to all the staff as she headed out.
It occurred to him to wonder if she considered him, and their relationship, some kind of secret. Did she really think that she could marry him and no one would know?
Did she think they were not already the topic of speculation?
He was pondering this question as they stepped outside into the cold, and walked in silence through the dark.
“You do know that it will be impossible to hide the fact that you are marrying me and that Dominic is my son,” he said, and didn’t like that he could hear something like temper in his voice. He could only hope that she did not.
