“It’s bad enough I haven’t told Mom everything. The last thing I want to explain to her is where I got the college tuition from.”
“You haven’t told her—”
“That I’ve swapped brothers? No.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“That’s what everyone thinks. Even Angelina. Though, she won’t say it to my face.” She ran the tip of his finger down his tight jaw. “It doesn’t bother me.”
It bothered him. Not what people thought of him and her, but how they treated her, how they saw her. That his brother would always have a claim on her affection bothered him.
It was the height of hypocrisy after he’d declared that this was nothing but a fling. But he wanted no other man to have such significance in her life. No other man to know her as well as he did.
Cristo, there was nothing rational in this.
“Mom will say you’re taking advantage of me,” she said, that familiar rancor back in her voice. “At least your aunt puts the blame at my feet.”
“Ziaknows? How’s that a good thing that she blames you?”
“Because she thinks I have enough sense to make my own decisions. Even if they’re morally wrong. As to why…” she bit her lip “… Matteo told your parents. He’s continuing his I-will-admit-all-my-sins phase.”
“And as usual, he doesn’t think of anyone else. WasZia…rude to you?”
Her smile made him relax. “Oh, she’s far too nice to say anything to my face, Alessandro. You know that. But she’s been considerably cooler toward me. I caught something in Italian along the lines of…coming between brothers, but who knows? To give him credit, Matteo did explain that he’d cheated on me. Clearly that doesn’t absolve me of the sin of trapping you when I was done with him.”
“You didn’t trap me,bella. If anything—”
“What, Alessandro? You trapped my poor, naïve, unsophisticated self, is that it? Seduced me away from your brother because I didn’t know better?”
He realized then that he could hurt her, in ways he hadn’t understood until then. Gripping her chin, he tugged until she looked into his eyes. “Thinking like that means invalidating everything you’ve endured, everything that makes you who you are today. I’ll never again make the mistake of thinking you less than who you are,tesoro. All of you.”
Shock flared her eyes wide. Swallowing, she looked away from him.
How did he tell her it wasn’t their age difference or her health or Matteo that bothered him? That it was his lack of control when it came to her, his ever-growing need to steal her away from the world, to protect her, even from himself, that ate through him?
It didn’t matter that this was temporary. That she thought of this as an adventure, that she probably even considered him to be a dangerous, exotic once-in-a-lifetime ride she’d never try again.
Christo, even that didn’t dent his self-esteem. On the contrary, he found immense pleasure in the fact that she found him attractive, more so than his own brother.
Whatever he told himself, it didn’t change the intensity of his feelings for her. Didn’t change the fact that he was beginning to crave more and more of her, even knowing there was no future for them.
Before the moment could be fractured by his incapability to verbalize his chaotic thoughts, his chauffeur appeared at their table with a bag in his hand. He took the bag and handed it to Sameera.
She tore through the packaging and spread the contents out onto the table in front of him. Little jars of oil paints in a rainbow of colors and a variety of brushes and a bunch of other things he’d picked cluttered the table, tinkling against each other. If it were up to him, he’d have bought the entire store.
“There’s more,” he added, his heart crawling into his throat at her stunned expression.
His first impulse had been to buy her jewelry. He’d discarded the idea immediately. He wanted her to remember him when she left.
Now every time she painted using one of these colors, she’d think of him.
Really, he was a selfish bastard.
Her fingers shook as she picked a glass jar with amber color that glittered in the sunlight. “These brushes and paints…they’re super expensive. How did you even know this brand was the…” Then she gasped, eyes going impossible wide in her small face.
Unable to help himself, he ran his knuckles over the sharp jut of her collarbones, once again marveling at the dizzying complexity of how fragile she looked and how strong she was beneath. And while she’d bash him on the head if he told her, both parts enthralled him.
The strength and the fragility…everything about her called to him.
