“You’re on her protection detail now,” Vin told them, “as much as mine.”
The men snapped to attention. “We’re on it, boss.”
“Welcome to the family, Miss Ravenwood,” the first bodyguard told her with a big smile. Then the sunglasses snapped back, along with the scowl. “We’ll keep you safe.”
“Thank you.” She hid a smile. As if she needed protecting! What was she, some politician or celebrity or something? But she was willing to play along.
Vin opened the door of the red sports car for her, then spoke quietly to the bodyguards before he climbed into the driver’s seat beside her. He started the engine with a low smooth roar.
To her surprise, he didn’t drive back immediately to the expressway but went the other direction, with the bodyguards following them in the SUV, deeper into downtown Geneva. “Where are we going?”
Vin turned onto the exclusive Rue du Rhône. “You agreed to marry me.”
“So?”
His eyes slanted sideways to her hand. “You need a ring.”
An hour later, they’d left the elegant jewelry store and were crossing into the French Alps, near Chamonix and Mont Blanc, en route to Italy. The mountain scenery was breathtaking, but Scarlett couldn’t take her eyes off the biggest rock she’d ever seen: the ten-carat, emerald-cut, platinum-set diamond now on her left hand.
As she moved her finger, the enormous diamond reflected sparkling prisms of sunlight against her body, against her face, against the luxurious interior of the car. Against the handsome, powerful man driving beside her.
“I didn’t need such a big diamond,” she said for the tenth time.
He changed gears. “Of course you need it. You’re going to be my wife. You must always have the best.”
The ring was spectacular, but she felt briefly troubled. She would have been fine with a plain gold band, but his desires had overridden hers. What if her original fears were proven true—that he would attempt to rule her life?
Calm down, it’s just a ring, she told herself. And if she were truly honest with herself, part of her was dazzled by the huge diamond, over-the-top and impractical as it was. She tried not to think about how much it had cost. More than she’d ever earn in a lifetime, that was for sure.
The highway wound through mountains and tunnels as they headed south. As they traveled, Vin kept asking if she was comfortable, if she’d like to stop for a meal, for a break or just to stretch her legs and admire the view.
Anxious to arrive in Rome so she could be done traveling and settle in, she mostly refused, stopping only briefly at a truck stop near the Italian border.
As they crossed through Tuscany, the orange sun was lowering into the west horizon of lush autumn fields like a ball of fire, and Scarlett’s stomach started to growl. “Could we stop for dinner?”
“Of course, cara.” Vin glanced at the countryside around the highway. “There is an excellent restaurant not too far from here, in Borgierra. I often visited the town when I was young.”
“Borgierra? Sounds like your last name.”
“My family founded the village five hundred years ago.” He paused, then mumbled, “My father still lives there.”
Her jaw dropped. “Your father?”
“So?”
“You never mentioned him. I assumed he was...well...”
“He’s not dead. I just...haven’t seen him for a while. Since I left Italy.”
“Wait—twenty years ago?”
“Contrary to popular opinion,” he said irritably, “creating a billion-dollar airline doesn’t just magically happen. I’ve had to work all day, every day, from the time I was fifteen and set foot in New York. Gambling every penny I had. Working until I bled.”
“Don’t try to distract me from the main point.”
“Which is?”
“You haven’t seen your father for twenty years. Why? Was he horrible? Abusive?”
Vin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “No.”
Then she didn’t understand at all. “I want to meet him.”
He stared stonily ahead. “We don’t have time.”
“We have time to stop for dinner.”