A month later, he’d married Chiara Vulpato.
Now, as Alex drove his red Lamborghini through desolate French valleys, he looked at the beautiful woman beside him. She’d fallen asleep beneath the quietly vibrating hum of the engine. Even as she slept, her arms were cradled tenderly around her belly.
Rosalie thought she shared the same grief, because she, too, was an orphan. But her heart was full of love, and she had the naive belief that she could make the world a better place. Her parents had died in a wildfire. It hadn’t been Rosalie’s fault.
So she had no idea how Alex felt. At all.
And he intended to keep it that way.
Hours later, as he pulled the sports car into the grand entrance of his favorite Parisian luxury hotel, he looked at her. She’d slept fitfully for hours as they’d traveled across the north of France. She was so beautiful, so unconsciously sensual. He wanted her.
But he could not have her.
Of all women on earth, Rosalie was the most forbidden. The stakes were too high, with a child that would bind them for the rest of their lives. She was a romantic with a loving heart. If Alex seduced her, all he would do was break that heart and wreck her life. Just as he’d wrecked so many others.
Turning off the car engine, he looked at her again, seeing the tired circles beneath her eyes as she slept. He thought of how much she had gone through over the past year. No wonder she’d been so deliriously happy when, in Venice, he’d told her she could keep her baby. No wonder she’d pulled him fiercely into her arms. He could still feel the electricity of her lips brushing against his earlobe as she’d whispered, Thank you. You’re a good man.
But her horrified, traumatized expression when he’d shown up at her great-aunt’s restaurant today told a different story. He’d made her dream of keeping her baby come true.
Then today, he’d taken it away.
He took a deep breath. He could not let her take his child away. Nor could he be the man she needed. He’d never be a romantic partner or a husband.
But there were other things he could do for her. Other ways to comfort her after all her grief. She was pregnant with his baby. She deserved every ounce of his care.
And she would get it. He thought suddenly of her wistful words. I just got a passport and traveled across the ocean for the first time in my life. He remembered the Agatha Christie paperback he’d seen in her satchel.
Reaching out, Alex gently shook her awake in the stopped car beneath the illuminated porte cochere. “We’re here.”
“Here?”
“Paris. Our hotel.”
Yawning, Rosalie blinked groggily. “What time is it?”
“Three in the morning.” Looking at her sleepy expression, he smiled. “I can carry you inside, if you like.”
That seemed to wake her up. She drew back, alarmed. “No. I’m awake.”
As the hotel’s valet rushed forward, Alex carried her bag, and his own, as he led Rosalie inside the luxurious hotel.
Even Paris was quiet at this time of night. They walked together through the elegant lobby.
He would take care of her, Alex reiterated to himself. He would give her the world.
And he would not seduce her. He could resist. Of course he could. He could resist anything.
But when they reached the registration desk, as the manager’s face lit up and greeted him by name, asking if he’d like his usual room, Alex refused. He asked instead for a two-bedroom suite.
He thought of himself as tough. He’d even been accused of being heartless. But even he could feel his weakness where Rosalie Brown was concerned.
Against her sensual beauty, he was only a man.
Rosalie woke slowly. Her eyes fluttered, then opened.
She’d slept in late. She saw it by the slant of gray light in the magnificent Paris hotel suite, all pale pastel furniture and matching silk wallpapers. She looked at the elegant clock above the marble fireplace mantel and saw it was almost noon.
She’d slept better than she’d ever imagined. But then, Alex had insisted on giving her the only bed.