Crazed as the experience had been, he’d needed it. Sexual frustration had been approaching lethal concentration in his bloodstream. Her too, he suspected. They were both tossing and turning every night.
Not that deprivation had fueled that madness. That was how they reacted to each other and he liked it.
Thankfully, they were proving to be compatible in other ways, as well. Scarlett was fitting nicely into his life. The cool English cucumber she’d always been made a perfect foil for his more passionate, forceful personality at events such as these.
A deeply primal and gratifying mine rang in his head as he wove their fingers together and felt the warm gold of her engagement ring dig into his skin.
She caught him looking at her and must have read his thoughts because a pretty, shy blush hit her cheeks.
A strange thing happened in that moment. One of those odd musical pauses occurred, leaving space for a familiar voice to carry.
“…had to come see Beauty and the Beast myself, but which one is which?”
It was a savagely cheap shot that elicited a few titters from the group where Regina was holding court a short distance away.
Scarlett stiffened and would have pulled her hand from his if he hadn’t tightened his grip on reflex. The people they’d been speaking with widened their eyes in appalled horror.
Javiero turned his head and saw Regina comprehend she’d been overheard. She didn’t waste time looking remorseful. She slapped a wide smile over her gaffe and braved it out.
“Querido, it’s so good to see you again.” She wove toward them through the pockets of people who fell into a watchful silence.
The music rose again, sounding overloud now that everyone had closed their mouths to blatantly eavesdrop.
“Introduce me to your frien—”
“Fiancée,” he corrected sharply. “We won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re on your way to the door.” He was not the host of this gala, but it was a banishment.
Regina paled as she realized she had lost social cache that would never be recovered.
“You must be Regina? I’m Scarlett.” She shot out her free hand. “Javiero and I were about to dance, but I’d love to chat properly after. I hope you’ll stay a little longer?”
“I would love to,” Regina said with a wary glance at him and a weak shake of Scarlett’s hand.
“Excellent. Querido?” Only he heard the facetiousness in Scarlett’s use of the endearment Regina had used. She squeezed his arm and brushed against his stiff body, trying to draw him onto the dance floor.
He resisted, watching Regina until she swallowed and looked down. Then he followed Scarlett and whirled her into his hard arms.
“Why did you do that?” He demanded through his teeth. He wanted to crush Regina.
“Oh, I wanted to spit in her face, believe me.” She didn’t look it. She wore an unbothered smile. “But I won’t start the sort of grudge match with your old flame that your mother and Evelina still cling to. Who has the time or energy?”
He did. Animosity and resentment drove him pell-mell through this endurance event called life. He had axes aplenty to grind and regarded setting them aside as quitting.
Recognizing that vengeful side of himself was a disturbing moment of self-reflection, one that made him glance down at the glimmer of despondency beneath Scarlett’s outwardly serene expression.
Concern rushed through him. “Are you tired? Do you want to go home?”
“No,” she said after the briefest hesitation. She found a fresh smile. “People would say she put me on the run, and they’re gossiping enough about me as it is.”
“Are they? I never even notice anymore.” Of course he and Scarlett would be the subject of askance looks and talking behind hands. It was inevitable. But between Niko’s perfidy and the money troubles Javiero had inherited from his grandfather, his family had always been a bottomless well for chinwags. Scarlett—his estranged father’s PA, who had birthed his son—provided a fresh buffet of speculation, but he hadn’t given it any notice.
He had assumed she was impervious as well, handling their notoriety like the stalwart soldier she’d always been.
He could feel tension in her, however, even as she kept it from her face. The silver gown she wore was stunning and draped her figure lovingly, but he suddenly saw it as the armor it was. Delicate chain mail with a protective ruffle at her neck.
Was she feeling attacked? Had she been struggling with these appearances all along?
A wave of protectiveness had him closing his arm across her back and drawing her closer. “I don’t care what people think. If you’re tired, we’ll go home.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, fingers cool in his as she smiled a deflection. “Did you hear someone ask her if you had called me your fiancée? She gets to be the source of that fresh gossip and will be forced to admit that, yes, she had the chance to marry you and blew it. You couldn’t have devised a more diabolical revenge if you had tried.”
Another time he might have appreciated the irony, but he was infuriated that she hadn’t been forthright with him about her troubles. She would share her body, but not the bruises his world was leaving under her skin?
“If you’re struggling with something, I expect you to tell me,” he said. Demanded.
“I fight my own battles.” Her chin came up in the unbothered way it always had when she had crossed swords with him. Exactly the way it had all those times she had driven him crazy, acting tough and unwavering against any pressure he had put on her. “This isn’t even a skirmish. Don’t worry about it.”
He
