Poppy had smiled wanly, head swimming at what she’d accidentally bought.
She felt light-headed now as she walked out to the lounge, wondering what he would make of all of this, especially her hair. It had been straightened to within an inch of its life, then a slip of gold ribbon woven through a waterfall braid around her crown.
Rico paused with his drink halfway to his mouth.
She wrinkled her nose and took a slow turn, corkscrewing the skirt around her. Super sophisticated, Poppy. Don’t try that again. She gave it a small ruffle to straighten it then stood tall, facing him again.
He hadn’t moved.
“What’s wrong?” She started searching for the flaw.
“Absolutely nothing.” He set aside his drink and came to her, lifted the hand with the bracelet. “You look stunning.”
“Really? Thank you. You look really nice, too.” A tuxedo, for heaven’s sake. She covered her racing heart. “Are we solving an international crime this evening?”
* * *
Someone was definitely targeting his heart. Rico almost said it, but it was too close to the truth.
She looked up at him and he read the sensual awareness that was always there between them, ready to be stoked into flame. There was a glow from deeper within her, too. One that was wide and bright and hot, like the sun about to rise behind the mountains and pierce through him.
It was beautiful, making him catch his breath in a strange anticipation, but he made himself break eye contact and move them out the door.
He was still trying to find the middle ground between providing Poppy the supportive attention she craved and maintaining some sort of governance over himself. He recalled chiding h
is brother once for having affection for Sorcha. You don’t want to admit you have a weakness where she’s concerned.
It was a weakness. Not only of character. It was a vulnerability that could be exploited so he steeled himself against allowing his affections to run too deep.
Even so, he found himself eager to show her off. He’d never been one of those men who wore a woman like a badge of virility, but apparently, he was capable of being that guy.
The pride swelling his chest and straining the buttons of his pleated shirt wasn’t really about how Poppy made him look, though. Hell yes, he stood taller when he escorted her into the marquise behind Cesar’s villa. But he stuck close to her not to be seen with her, or even to protect her—which he would in a heartbeat if anyone stepped out of line.
No, he was enjoying watching the way her confidence was blossoming. He couldn’t change his world to make it easier for her to fit into it, but seeing her grow more comfortable with these trappings pleased him. Eased him.
She smiled and greeted couples she had already met and calmly ignored the occasional sideways glance from people still digesting the gossip that Rico Montero had married the mother of his love child.
She even showed less anxiety when they caught up with his parents, exchanging air kisses with his mother and speaking with genuine enthusiasm about the new house. She had clearly been studying at Sorcha’s knee because she then asked his mother, “Would you have time next week to review the floor plan with me? Sorcha assures me I’ll need the space for entertaining, but I don’t want the front room to feel like a barn.”
“Email my assistant. I’m sure she can find an hour for you.”
It sounded like a slight, but the fact his mother was willing to make time for her was a glowing compliment.
“You’re building a darkroom,” Rico’s father said.
“Yes.” Poppy faltered briefly with surprise, then tried her newfound strategy on him. “I wondered if you could advise me on where best to source the chemicals?”
“Your husband can do that.”
Rico bit back a sigh. He held Poppy’s elbow cradled in his palm and lightly caressed her inner arm while saying, “It’s not always clear whether my father is genuinely interested or merely being polite.” Be polite, he transmitted with a hard look into his father’s profile.
“Rico,” his mother murmured, her own stern expression reminding him they were all aware of his father’s limitations. And they were in public.
“I am interested.” Rico’s father frowned, being misinterpreted. “Keep me apprised of your progress,” he ordered Poppy. “I’d like to observe the process when you’re up to full function. La Reina, I’ve seen people we ought to speak to.”
“Of course.” They melted into the crowd.
“Wow,” Poppy said as they moved away. She slapped a bright smile on her face, but he saw through to the woman who felt ground into the dust.