She felt her stomach lurch.
Stupid because it had made her feel special. Loved. Reckless because she knew how vulnerable she was to wanting someone—anyone—to feel that way about her.
But Charlie didn’t love her. And if she was stupid enough to forget that fact, then she should remember his motives for proposing.
Maybe he had remembered too. Easing his grip, his voice no longer soft but casual, he said, ‘So why can’t you decide what to wear?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe you’re asking me that. You have sisters. You should know women never have anything to wear. It’s either too old, too tight, too boring...’
‘Perhaps you need to get out of your comfort zone. Wear something different.’
‘How? Are you going to rustle me up a couple of dresses?’ She smiled. ‘Is there no limit to your talents?’
The answering smile tugging at the corner of his mouth made heat stir inside her again, and she had to stop herself from leaning into him, letting her mouth find his and letting the tide inside her pull the feet from under her.
He stared at her steadily. ‘Sadly, no to the first, and undoubtedly yes to the second.’
Not true, she thought, a faint flush colouring her skin as she remembered the way his hands and mouth moved over her skin, bringing the heat of his body into hers.
‘Honestly, it’s not a big deal. I never decide what to wear until the last minute.’
‘Actually, it is a big deal,’ he said quietly.
She stared at him uncertainly as he glanced away. Her throat had pulled tight so that suddenly it was hard to swallow, even harder to speak.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Look, Dora. What we talked about yesterday... I didn’t actually think about what it would mean for you.’
Her heart felt heavy and cold with shock, but also with resignation.
Wow, that was quick.
But of course he wanted to bail. Everyone always did, sooner or later. Had she really thought he would be any different from the rest?
‘That’s very thoughtful of you. So is it just the party or is the wedding off too?’
‘Off?’ He frowned. ‘No, that’s not what I’m trying to say.’
It wasn’t?
She felt the misery building in her throat start to unravel. ‘So you haven’t changed your mind?’ she said slowly.
He shook his head. ‘But we didn’t really talk much about what it would actually mean.’ His eyes rested on her face. ‘There’s more to my family than casinos and hotels. The Lao name is important in Macau. We have a certain standing. And that requires...’ He hesitated, then held out his hand. ‘Come with me. It will be easier to show you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ They were standing in her bedroom, next to a rail of clothes. Dora was staring at the rail in confusion. ‘Where did these come from?’
Charlie took a step closer. ‘My sisters use a couple of stylists. I spoke to them yesterday and explained the situation.’
‘I see,’ she said slowly. ‘And do you think maybe now might be a good time to explain “the situation” to me?’
‘You came out here expecting to meet Archie’s family and you packed accordingly.’ He held her gaze. ‘Only then we talked and things changed. I meant what I said about wanting to marry you. But I want you to feel comfortable doing that...being my wife.’
‘Tracksuits are “comfortable”, Charlie. This is Chanel.’ Turning back to the rail, she pulled out a jacket, a silky skirt, then a beautiful embroidered dress. ‘This is Dior...this is Gucci. This entire rail of clothes is probably worth more than my annual salary.’
‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘But this—’ he gestured towards the rail ‘—this is what it means to be a Lao.’
He felt his breath tangle in his chest. It meant a whole lot more than that. It meant forfeiting ambitions, rights, boundaries. But to explain that would mean revealing much more than he was capable of sharing, and so, reaching into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a small square box.