to make that happen. I would need your help.”
As he spoke, he reached for her hand. She snatched it away. Any touching would only muddle her brain. It was just her bad luck that the first sex she’d had in nearly five years turned out to be with a lying weaselly dog.
“You would need my help if you were taking him away, but you’re not, so there isn’t a problem.”
He settled back in his chair. “You’re a very stubborn woman.”
“It’s a Marcelli trait. Something I’m very proud of.”
She stared at the stage and was grateful that no one had come to sit near them yet. Talk about a fascinating conversation to overhear.
“You think I walked away from you and never thought of you again,” he said.
Unable to resist the bait, she spun to face him. “Don’t even go there. Don’t try to convince me that you pined for me for even one second. We both know you didn’t. If you had cared, you would have come after me. You would have told me you weren’t dead. You would have done something. I was a way to pass the time while you were playing at being the bad guy.”
“So much anger,” he said as he touched her cheek.
She jerked her head back. “Stop touching me.”
“As you wish.”
He dropped his hand to his lap and she immediately wanted him to put it back on her.
“You’ve already done this dance, Rafael,” she told him. “Stop lying. You can’t sell me on believing in you again, so just let it go.”
“I did not come after you,” he said. “When I returned to the palace, my father was furious with me. He thought I had been studying abroad. When he found out I’d risked my life, he nearly locked me in the dungeon. I pointed out I was of age and free to live my life. He disagreed. I am, after all, the heir.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is there an actual point?”
“I am the heir, Mia. I am expected to marry a particular kind of woman.”
“I wasn’t asking you to marry me, you egotistical creep. A postcard would have been nice. You let me think you were dead.”
“I did not have a choice.” He shook his head. “I chose not to have a choice. You were not someone I could have married. There was no point in caring about you anymore.”
There were too many emotions, she thought, wishing she could simply leave. Anger and hurt and confusion and a deep, stupid desire to believe him.
“I did not know what to say to you,” he told her. “I did not know how to explain we could not be together. To say why seemed…”
“Arrogant? Stuck up? Presumptuous?”
He shrugged. “All of those. So I took the easy way out. I said nothing. I let you walk away.”
“Why are we having this conversation?” she asked, wishing the damn play would start or someone would come sit by them so he would stop talking.
“Because I want to apologize for that. I behaved badly.”
He sounded sincere. She would swear that she could see the truth in his eyes. And she hated that. Hated that after everything they’d been through, she still wanted him to be one of the good guys.
“You can’t honestly believe I’m going to trust you,” she snapped. “You’re an expert at playing my emotions. You came here with the express purpose of seducing me in order to steal Danny. Why is this any different?”
“Because it is. I do not know how else to explain myself to you.”
“Then stop trying, because I’m done listening.”
“Mia-”
But whatever he’d been about to say was cut off when a family moved into the row in front of them. Mia breathed a sigh of relief. It was a testament to his charm that even knowing what she knew, she still had trouble resisting him. The man was the devil.
Maybe that was problem. Women had been losing their souls to the devil’s brand of temptation since the very beginning of time. Who was she to buck tradition?
Francesca hesitated outside the bedroom door. “I’m scared,” she whispered.
Mia squeezed her hand. “You love her. That’s what matters.”
Francesca nodded, then knocked once and pushed open the door. “Hi, sweetie, how are you?”
Mia followed her sister into Kelly’s room. Kelly lay on the bed reading a fashion magazine. She barely glanced at them.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” Francesca said. “Just to talk about how things are going.”
Kelly threw down the magazine and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her gaze narrowed. “So why is Mia here? And why is your face all scrunchy? You’re not just here to talk. What’s going on?”
Francesca glanced at Mia. “She was always really bright.”
“Beats the alternative,” Mia told her. “Want the chair?”
Francesca nodded and pulled out the desk chair. Mia settled in the window seat. Kelly folded her arms over her chest in a position even a layperson like Mia recognized as defensive.
“What?” she demanded.
Francesca drew in a breath. “Kelly, your dad and I love you so much. I hope you know that. We only want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. Perfectly happy. I have a great life. I’m a dancer with the San Francisco Ballet. It’s a fabulous company and I’m working really hard. Everything is fine.”
“I don’t think so.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Because you’re going to believe Rafael’s bullshit? Isn’t he the liar prince?”
Mia admired her sister’s patience. Francesca didn’t lose her composure. She kept eye contact and spoke in a low voice. Obviously she wasn’t a real Marcelli-she must have been spawned by aliens from a galaxy far, far away.
“I think what you do is amazing,” Francesca said. “When you dance, you move with such grace and beauty, it’s as if you’re one with the music. You’re right. You are working really hard. You’ve given up so much for your dance. Maybe it’s too much. We were all so caught up in the dream of you being a ballerina, maybe we never considered the reality.”
Kelly opened her mouth, then closed it. “This is stupid.”
Francesca continued as if she hadn’t heard. “So many women your age are in college. They’re going to classes and frat parties and changing their minds about their majors. Sometimes their biggest problem is how to fit all the dirty laundry in the trunk of their car. But not you. You’re living in the real world. You have an apartment, you pay your bills. You’re a working woman. I can’t imagine that at your age. Of course I was a student at twenty- eight.”
Francesca smiled as she spoke. Kelly’s lower lip quivered a little.
“We want you to be happy,” Francesca told her. “Sometimes you have to try something to know if it’s what you want. Sometimes you have to stumble and fall before you can fly.”
Mia shifted on the window seat. “Francesca, you would try the patience of a saint. I swear, if you have any more analogies, I’m going to have to scream. Jeez. Just spit it out. Tell the kid you don’t care if she doesn’t want to be a dancer anymore. That it’s fine. She can move home or go to college or whatever.”
Francesca shot her a very clear “would you please shut up” look.
“I’m not a kid,” Kelly said, then burst into tears.
Francesca moved onto the bed and pulled Kelly into her arms. Kelly clung to her.
“I’m s-sorry,” she breathed between sobs. “I hate being a dancer. I know you guys g-gave up so much for me. I know it c-cost a lot. But I hate it.” She raised her head and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I hurt all the time. The physical work is grueling. I’m tired and I’m hungry. I don’t have what it takes. I don’t. Even if I do, I don’t want to anymore.”
Francesca hugged her close. “Then you can stop right now.” She smiled at Mia over Kelly’s curly red hair and mouthed “Thank you.”
Mia didn’t bother to point out that she wasn’t the one to be thanking. Rafael had figured out the truth none of
