She folded her arms defensively. “I am.”
“No, you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“What other conclusion is there?” She waved toward the closet.
In the most regal, pithy, arrogant way possible, he walked to a painting and gave it a light nudge to release a catch. It swung open, and he touched a sensor on a wall safe. It must have read his thumbprint because it released with a quiet snick.
He retrieved something before closing both the painting and the safe. Then he showed her a red velvet ring box and started to open it. “This was my grandmother’s.”
Amy was so shocked, so completely overwhelmed, she retreated in a stumble and nearly landed in an ignominious heap against the sofa.
She caught herself and managed to stay on her feet, then could only stare at him.
He gently closed the box. His expression became watchful, but there was tension around his mouth and a pull in his brows that was...hurt?
“As I said, I’m not making assumptions.” He set aside the box—which made her feel as though he was setting her heart over there on a side table and abandoning it as he took a few restless steps, then pushed his hands into his pockets.
He snorted in quiet realization.
“Am I making another mistake? I don’t like it,” he said ironically. “I hurt you, Amy,” he admitted gravely. “I know I did. I hate myself for it. Especially because I don’t know that I could have prevented it. As long as you were interested in me, I was going to pursue you and we would have wound up where we did. That’s been hard for me to accept. I don’t like thinking of myself as having such a deep streak of self-interest.”
He glanced at Amy for her reaction, but she had no words. He had hurt her. “I didn’t exactly run away.”
Until she had.
She bit her lip.
He nodded. “You hurt me when you left the way you did. That’s not a guilt trip. I only want you to know that you can. I stood there telling myself I was doing us both a favor by letting you go, but I was so damned hurt I could hardly stand it.”
“Nothing happened with Baz,” she muttered.
“I know. He’s a client and you don’t have relationships with clients.” He sounded only a little facetious. More of a chide at himself, she suspected. “It was genuinely shocking to me that anyone could hurt me so deeply just by standing next to another man, though.”
She was reminded of their spat about jealousy when they were at his villa on the lake. When he had pointed out they were too new to have confidence in their relationship.
“I want you to come to me when you’re hurt and scared and don’t know what to do.” He pointed to the middle of his chest, voice sharpening, then dying to sardonic. “And I want you by my side when I don’t know what to do. I’ve hardly slept, I was trying so hard to work out how to spin things so you wouldn’t be destroyed by all of this. I wanted to talk it out with you.” He laughed at the paradox.
“And then I threw you under the bus,” she said contritely, mentioning what was looming like a bright red double-decker between them.
“Don’t apologize for what you wrote.”
“I wasn’t going to.” But she clung to her elbows, deeply aware that she couldn’t do that to a man and not have him hate her a little.
Which made her gaze go to the velvet box. Maybe it wasn’t a ring. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. How mortifying.
She jerked her gaze back to his, but he had seen where her attention had strayed.
“I want to marry you, Amy.”
She ducked her face into her hands, all of her so exposed she couldn’t bear it, but there was nowhere to hide.
“We don’t even know each other, Luca!”
Gentle hands grazed her upper arms, raising goose bumps all over her body before he moved his hands to lightly encircle her wrists.
“I’m telling you what I want, that’s all. What I know to be true. You don’t have to answer me right now. I’ll propose properly when you’re more sure.”
“What would our marriage even look like?” she asked, letting him draw her hands from her face. “We’re not a match that people want to accept. We don’t even live in the same country!”
“We can work all that out,” he said, as if it was as simple as buying groceries. “My future is up in the air right now. The only thing I know for certain is that I want to be with you. So I bought a house here. We can date or you can move in. You can work or not. I’ll get started with my own ventures. Maybe we’ll move to Vallia at some point if it feels right. We can have a long engagement, so you have time to be sure. All of that is up for discussion, but I’d love for you to wear this ring when you’re ready. I want people to know how likely I am to kill them if they malign the woman I love.”
“You love me?” She began to shake.
“Of course, I love you.”
“But you said...” She tried to remember what he’d told her about marriage. “You said you’d only marry someone vetted by... I’m not exactly the best choice of bride, Luca.”
“If we make each other happy, that’s all that matters. No. Wait,” he corrected himself, cupping her face. “You are a bright, successful, badass of a woman who makes me a better man. How could anyone say that’s a bad choice?”
“I make you better?” she choked out. “Hardly. You’re perfect.” It was annoying as hell.
“Exactly,” he said with a shrug of casual arrogance. “I don’t make mistakes. How could the woman I choose to spend my life with be anything but a flawless decision?”
“Oh, my God,” she scoffed, giving him a little shove, before letting
