He was the one who broke the kiss first, drawing in a ragged breath as he lifted his head and stared down at her with such complete focus that she found herself shivering.
“I think we’re very late for our engagement party, Geno,” she whispered.
“We could turn around and go home.” He sounded hopeful.
She laughed. “You’re terrible. I’m the one who should be saying that.”
He picked up his phone, looked at his messages and then showed them to her. “We’ve been officially summoned by Stefano.”
“You don’t seem concerned.”
“He hasn’t threatened to escort us inside yet. When that happens, we might worry.”
She was reading the string of messages Stefano had sent. “Wait. What does he mean you’ve compromised my reputation and we’d better marry fast?”
He flashed her a very unrepentant grin. “What do you think those reporters are going to be saying playboy Ferraro has been doing in this town car all this time right in front of the restaurant, tinted windows and all? Ferraro men do have a certain reputation. There will be wild speculation and others telling the story as gospel.”
“That’s what they all think we were in here doing?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly what they think.”
“I have to go out there and face them knowing that?”
He grinned at her, leaned forward and brushed another kiss over her burning lips. “You do look as if you’ve been thoroughly kissed. Maybe more. I did do a good job of it.”
Amaranthe couldn’t help but laugh, even though she should have been outraged. He looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. She leaned back and fixed his tie and then smoothed his jacket before she slid off him to pull down the mirror and examine her face. She did appear as if she’d been thoroughly kissed—and then some.
“You look beautiful.”
She reapplied lipstick carefully. “Thank you. I don’t think there’s much I can do for my hair. It’s looking like I took a walk on the wild side.” Her eyes met his in the mirror, and she burst into laughter again. “Is that what you were going for?”
“I was going for any way I could keep you. I made up my mind I wasn’t losing you. We had a beautiful day, but you began retreating and I couldn’t reach you.”
“You retreated,” she accused. “You became Geno Ferraro, the man behind the mask.”
His palm cupped her cheek, his thumb sliding into her hair. “I have to be that man when I go out into the public. Just like you’re my classical ballerina.”
Her eyes widened as knowledge burst through her. That was his role. He had taken it on at thirteen. He had to make others believe he was tough enough, even the Archambaults. He’d faked it until he was that man. Now, that was the demeanor he presented to the world. He slipped easily into the role, just as she did when she went hunting.
The dancer was her role. She hunted right out in the open. She was so good in her role she thought in terms of being a dancer, and she never once wavered, just as Geno hadn’t. They were experts at what they did. It made sense for him to wear that mask and keep it on in public. People viewed him with trepidation. They respected him. Theylistened to him, and when he gave an order, they obeyed without question. He hadn’t retreated from her. He had assumed his mantle of authority, the role he’d played for years.
“That makes so much sense, Geno. I misunderstood. I was so nervous, already feeling as if I didn’t belong, and I didn’t want to let you down.”
“You could never let me down, Amara.”
She turned toward him, letting him see her eyes, needing him to know she meant what she said. “I realize that now. You’ve more than reassured me, Geno.”
“If at any time when we’re in a public setting you feel the need for assurance, reach for me. We can communicate telepathically. Or just come straight to me, Danzatrice Ombra. You’re more important than anyone. I’ll never mind you interrupting me. Sometimes the men can be patronizing and the women catty in the circles I travel.”
The honesty in his voice was humbling. She didn’t know why she had doubted him. It hadn’t been him, more herself. Amaranthe knew it wouldn’t be necessary, but she nodded to let him know she would go to him if she felt slighted by anyone in his circle of acquaintances or nervous about their relationship again.
“Are you ready for this? They’ll be in a frenzy. We need to give them the photographs they want,” he cautioned.
“I’m ready.”
“Stay very close to me and always do exactly what Donte and Fiero tell you to do.”
Donte and Fiero Latini were Geno’s personal bodyguards and the head of his security. They had the responsibility of training the other bodyguards. They took their jobs very seriously, and the little she’d observed of them, she knew they were good at what they did.
