Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine 3)

If the fact that she’d agreed to sleep in his bed at the penthouse didn’t prove his point, she didn’t know what did. She hadn’t entirely given up hope.

God, she was a fool.

Unwilling—and unable—to see the fierce pain in his eyes anymore, she turned and fled the room.

* * *

She thought maybe she’d never smiled more, and certainly never so unnaturally, when she went down to the Anniversary Ball with Gerard. It somehow seemed like a personal mission to show that she could hold her own in these circumstances.

The party was in full swing by the time Gerard escorted her downstairs, a small orchestra filling the house with music. Even through her shock and disquietude, Francesca wasn’t immune to the beauty of the transformed ballroom. James and Anne certainly knew how to throw a “do,” as Anne had called it. The already beautiful, white, wood-paneled room with enormous fireplace had been transformed into an ice palace. Round tables that seated eight were set up around the periphery of the large space, each of them with a fantastic, lit “ice” chandelier hovering above it, all of them unique and exquisitely beautiful. An elaborate, crystal candlelit bar was at one end of the room, a buffet table on the opposite would serve a late dinner in a few hours. James and Anne were just finishing their solo anniversary dance to kick off the ball when she walked in on Gerard’s arm. Other couples were starting to join them on the dance floor.

“Shall we?” Gerard asked, nodding toward the dance floor.

“I’d love to,” she said a little too brightly. She could tell from his quirked brows that he was concerned by her brittle animation. When he tried to bring up the topic of Ian’s return while they danced, she made an abrupt observation on the beauty of the room. He seemed to take her hint, and kept things light for the remainder of the dance.

At some point, she wondered if Ian had known precisely what he was doing by sending her this backless dress. She sensed his gaze on her bare skin as Gerard and she circled on the dance floor. She ignored the sensation, continuing her conversation with Gerard with a fierce determination that hardly matched their lighthearted topic.

She spotted Lucien and Elise sitting at a table when Gerard led her off the dance floor. Relieved to see Ian wasn’t there, she went to join them while Gerard went to find a waiter for drinks. She swore she wasn’t looking for Ian in the crowded ballroom, but her gaze immediately found his singular form on the dance floor, his grandmother in his arms.

“No one can make Anne beam the way Ian can,” Gerard observed with a smile as he arrived at the table, two waiters on his heels, one waiter carrying a bucket, champagne, and four glasses, another a platter of hors d’oeuvres and iced caviar. Her brow furrowed. Had there been a note of bitter envy in his tone? She wasn’t entirely surprised. Only Ian could be so rude as to leave his grandparents worried and anxious for half a year, only to return and have them thrown in an ecstasy of happiness at the sight of him. Besides, it wasn’t as if what Gerard said wasn’t completely true, Francesca thought as she gave a reluctant sideways glance at Ian’s striking profile. The countess looked especially diminutive next to his tall form, both of them moving gracefully on the dance floor. She’d never seen Anne look so happy, so relieved, and she stared up at her grandson, sometimes solemn as they conversed, sometimes smiling and laughing. No, she understood Anne’s relief, empathized with it. Anne had lost her only daughter this year. She was likely feeling light-headed with relief to know her only grandson was alive and healthy.

You’re every bit as relieved. In fact, part of you is euphoric at the evidence of his well-being.

It was a strange combination, she realized. Light-headed relief and focused fury.

She plunged into conversation with the others. Lucien raised his eyebrows when she allowed Gerard to pour her a third glass of champagne, but she was immune to his concern. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling at that moment, so how could anyone else accurately interpret her mood?

Someone touched her lightly on the shoulder. She turned to find James standing there, straight and handsome in his tuxedo.

“May I have this dance?” he asked her.

“I’d love to,” Francesca said, standing.

“Holding steady?” James murmured quietly once they’d spun together on the dance floor for a moment.

“All things considered, I think I’m doing very well.” She met his kind stare and smiled. “I didn’t get to tell you congratulations, earlier. Your and Anne’s dedication to each other is wonderful to see.”

His gray eyebrows went up. “I’m sensing an underlying message there.”

She laughed, but averted her gaze. “What? Like that without a true dedication to your partner, there can be no trust? No future?”

“That’s true,” James said. “But people show their dedication in different ways. Anne’s and my commitment hasn’t always looked like it does today. I’m sure she questioned my dedication to her when I was in my twenties and thirties, traveling as much as I did, attending to business. I’m sure there was a time in Anne’s life she had trouble recognizing that as devotion on my part to our marriage, but that’s how I always saw it.”

“Now I’m sensing an underlying message,” she said wryly.

James smiled. “Did you listen to Ian? Did he tell you where he’s been?”

“No. And I mean no offense, James. I know he’s your grandson, and you’re bound to feel differently about it than his jilted fiancée. No,” she interjected when James started to protest. “That’s what I am. No reason to sugarcoat it.” She paused as the music swelled making talking difficult. “My point is,” she said as the music quieted, “I’m not sure I want to know what he found so important to do that he couldn’t pick up a phone and relieve your worry. Anne’s. Mine. It was incredibly selfish on his part.”