“But they’re not comfortable. They, um, made people look at me.”
He stared at her. “I thought you liked that.”
“It was still a lovely gift,” she stammered. “And I’m so grateful. That you picked them out for me is terribly sweet.”
“Lovely?” he repeated in a surly voice. “Sweet?”
“And I don’t mean to be critical of your taste, but—”
“I didn’t pick them out for you,” he ground out. “I just paid for them. You chose.”
She had? What had she been thinking? “Oh. Um. Don’t worry, I’m sure the charity shops will sell them quickly,” she said apologetically. “They’re so glamorous—so well-made!”
He glanced at her empty suitcase with surprise. Glanced at the many bags that Kefalas had just left inside the doorway before discreetly disappearing.
“You gave away all your designer clothes?” he said incredulously. “The Gucci? The Versace?”
“Are they your favorite designers?” she said, chagrined to be so rude.
“No!” he nearly shouted. “They’re yours!”
“Oh,” she said. She bit her lip. “Well, those clothes are just a little too tight for me now. Not to mention too sexy.” She brightened as a sudden explanation occurred to her. “Maybe my tastes have changed because I’m about to be a mother,” she said happily, relieved to have an explanation. “That’s probably it, don’t you think?”
He stared at her. He started to speak, then visibly bit back the words. Finally, he silently held out his arm. She took it in her own.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.
She peeked up at him, hoping he really meant it. “Really?”
“Yes.” He gave her a slow-rising smile. It lit up his face, making him so handsome that he took her breath away. Reaching down, he stroked her bare cheek. “I’ve never seen you look more radiant.”
She exhaled. She hadn’t realized until that moment that she’d been tense, wondering what his reaction would be. She’d cut her hair. She’d gotten rid of the lowcut, tight dress and the stiletto heels. Would he still approve of her? Would he still want her in his life?
His hot, smoldering glance told her that yes, he approved, and yes, he wanted her.
The real her. Without all the tarty trimmings.
“Now,” he said as his smile sharpened, “let’s go get what we came here for.”
For the rest of the day, they explored the charms of Venice, from walking beneath the medieval overhangs of the Calle del Paradiso to sharing lunch on the wide outdoor terrace of
the Hotel Cipriani.
The fog thickened throughout the afternoon as the capricious autumn weather turned melancholy. But Eve barely noticed that the Italian sunshine had disappeared. As they strolled along canals as gray as the lowering sky, she felt warm and contented. Talos smiled down at her, his dark eyes warming her with the heat of burning coal as they laughed and talked, walking down the tree-lined paths through the grassy Giardini.
He bought her a fiery orange rose from a stall in an outdoor market. When he told her in a low voice how beautiful she was to him, how much he wanted her to be his wife, she glowed from within. She barely heard the sad, plaintive cries of the gulls soaring through the heavy clouds overhead.
As the afternoon drew on, rain finally started to drizzle. The fair-weather tourists had scattered beneath the cold-blowing winds, but Eve had never felt more gloriously lit up inside.
In her new clothes, she got occasional second glances from men, but only from up close—not from across the street. She wasn’t forced to endure the endless hot stares of strange men, while knowing that only the presence of powerful, darkly dangerous Talos kept the other males at bay.
Now, she felt safe.
She felt…free.
She never wanted the day to end. She glanced down at his hand in hers as they walked. He was so possessive, so attentive. So romantic and loving.
She felt his eyes on her constantly. Any time she turned her head, she caught his gaze. Even when he didn’t touch her, she felt his presence like electricity. Like fire.