“I’m not going,” she repeated. “I’m in Venice, and I want to see everything on that list.” She raised her chin and faced him, letting his eyes heat her all the way down her spine. If she wasn’t careful, those eyes could trap her here all day. All year, even. They could draw her right down the aisle, and she’d be married before she could say boo. “I don’t want a tourist trap, so maybe we can replace that with your museum, but I’m going to see glass getting blown. My decision’s final.”
Kyril watched her for a long moment. She thought of apologizing. What would she apologize for? She was well within her rights—
But then he grinned at her, eyes sparkling, full lips moving into a smile that shone with amusement. Hannah felt her shoulders relax, her grip on the piece of bread loosen. “All right, Ms. George. Your wish is my command.”
* * *
The day passed in a playful tug of war that left Hannah feeling invigorated and exasperated. He’d been honest—he made her wishes his top priority. Kyril made sure she saw a glass-blowing demonstration, sandwiched between a heavenly gelato shop and a cool, solemn tour of the oldest church in Venice. She had to admit that he knew of some hidden spaces that she hadn’t been able to find with her Internet searches. Gardens tucked into gated areas in narrow alleyways that turned out to be bursting with flowers. Alcoves in churches that had touches straight out of history. Kyril, with his hand on her elbow, had guided her through each one with a smile and a quiet confidence that she found unbearably sexy.
The overprotective attitude, not so much.
At the glass studio, he made her sit in the farthest row—to protect her from the fire—and when they went on the boat to Burano he put her life jacket over her head himself. She’d been the only one on the boat in a bright red vest. He wouldn’t let her go anywhere with scaffolding.
“The buildings have stood for this long,” she’d grumbled under her breath, but for every place they walked past, he found one that was equally as charming.
Little by little, her purse grew heavier. She bought an ornament from the glass blowing demonstration, a postcard from the gift shop at the Guggenheim, a little figurine of a Venetian gondola.
It was the jewelry shop that caught her in its web, at the very end of the day.
They’d taken a final tour—an exhibit of Venetian jewelry from the 15th century—and the museum had let out into a small room of cases, the jewelry glittering inside. Helen would love it.
She lingered over one of the cases. Pretty necklaces shone inside, imitations of the ones from the exhibit, and after a moment Kyril stood by her side, looking down into the case with her.
“Which one of these do you think is nicer?” She could picture both of them on Helen’s neck, picture her face lighting up with surprise.
“Neither,” he said simply.
“What?”
He leaned in, his breath caressing the curve of her ear. “These aren’t quality pieces. It’s the same as what you’ll find in a stall on the street for anyone to buy.” His fingers brushed down her back, a feather-light touch. “You deserve something special.”
She snorted. She couldn’t help it. “My budget isn’t special. Besides, I’m just looking for something to remember Venice by. Som
ething to bring to my sister back home.”
Kyril turned back, eyebrows raised. “I’ll give you something to remember Venice by.”
The words lit a fire at the base of her belly, but she laughed, moving close and leaning into him. Helen wouldn’t care if the jewelry wasn’t priceless. She’d want it to have a story. She’d want to hear about the exhibit, wandering through the cool hush of the museum, accompanied by the most handsome and powerful man Hannah had ever met. Oh, and his bodyguards, ever discreet, ever present. Hannah’s sister would drink in every word.
“I’m sure you will,” Hannah said smoothly. She looked back down into the case. The chain on the left, delicate and silver, ended in a tiny pendant of glass, molded into the shape of a heart. Her own heart squeezed at the sight of it—for the baby in her belly, for her sister across the ocean, and for Kyril, so solid and powerful at her side. Not an ounce of him betrayed any impatience. He seemed ready to wait for her all evening, if that was what she wanted. She pointed to the heart pendant just as the store attendant appeared behind the case with a solicitous smile.
“I’ll take that one.”
5
Kyril tied the knot in his tie, then surveyed it in the mirror.
Crooked.
His hands weren’t steady, and he paced away from the bathroom, listening for any sign that Hannah had woken. She’d entered the suite with an incredible yawn when they returned, the sun tilting into late afternoon, and hadn’t argued when he suggested a little rest.
He hadn’t expected to be nervous.
It had been his idea, this evening's outing. He’d told her to be ready to go at eight o’clock sharp and dressed to impress. He shouldn’t be the one struggling with his tie.
Kyril stalked back to the bathroom and tugged the tie from his neck, starting over. This time, he twisted it with precise motions, no room for error, and it was neatly around his neck when he was finished.
Everything was in place.