Page 43 of Winter Wedding for the Prince

“Too many,” Armando noted, thinking of the women at Christina’s Home.

“I’ve been reading up on how much your government has done these past years to improve conditions for women and children. I’m hoping that when our countries are united,” she said, squeezing his hand, “our countries’ combined assets will help all our people.”

Our people. Armando stared at his untouched dessert, the weight of Mona’s speech pressing down upon his shoulders. With a few eloquent sentences, Mona had reminded him how much was at stake. Their engagement wasn’t just about them. It wasn’t even about protecting his family from scandal. It was about doing what was best for his people. Corinthia was counting on him to lead them to a prosperous future. To keep them safe and healthy. And now, thanks to his agreement with Omar, so were the people of Yelgiers.

Every single candle in every single window...

If he broke off the engagement, it would mean far more than some headlines and bad blood. While they might not realize it, there were people who needed his marriage to Mona to make their lives better.

How could he walk away knowing he was failing people? His people. Mona’s people. As much as he loved Rosa—and, oh, God, he did love her, more than he thought possible—he could never live with himself.

Better to settle for kisses under the mistletoe and be able to look at himself in the mirror.

He’d been right earlier. Love really did have terrible timing.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Rosa couldn’t find comfort in a chocolate dessert.

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant, too,” Darius joked. “You’ve got that same green-around-the-gills look the princess used to get when she first showed up in New York.”

No such luck, she thought, putting a hand to her stomach. If she were pregnant with Armando’s child, she would be doing cartwheels of joy. The only thing making her green was a bad case of jealousy. Brought on by seeing Mona holding Armando’s hand.

“Just indigestion,” she replied.

“I hear ya,” Darius replied. “That was a lot of food. Makes me wonder what we’re going to get at the wedding tomorrow.”

Oh, Lord, the wedding. Maybe she could claim illness and stay home. That way she wouldn’t have to face another eight hours of seeing Armando and Mona together.

The American leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Thank goodness I’ve got till tomorrow night to digest everything. Otherwise, I might need some emergency tailoring on my tuxedo. Max would kill me. You sure it’s indigestion?” he asked at her halfhearted laugh.

“It is.” Rosa was still staring at the joined hands across the way. Whatever Mona was talking about had to be serious. Armando was frowning at his untouched plate.

“I don’t know,” Darius replied. “That prince of yours looks pretty green, too.”

“He’s not my prince,” Rosa answered reflexively. Never was, but for five minutes under the mistletoe.

Now that Darius mentioned it, though, Armando did look pale. Good. Petty as it was, she wanted him to feel as terrible as she did. She also wanted Mona to trip over her floaty train and fall on her face.

No, she didn’t. It wasn’t the Yelgierian’s fault she was beautiful and graceful and probably brilliant.

She wasn’t even angry with Armando. Not much, anyway. It had been her choice to kiss him. He’d said to stop thinking, and she did. A smarter woman would have heeded her own warnings. Then again, a smarter woman wouldn’t have fallen for Armando in the first place.

To think, she’d started dinner feeling empowered. The joke was on her. She was a bigger fool than even Fredo thought she was.

* * *

The wedding of Princess Arianna Santoro and Maxwell Brown, the newly named Conte de Corinth, went flawlessly. Not only did security keep the press away, but the bride’s former boyfriend departed that morning on a lengthy trip to the continent. With all potential drama eliminated, the result was an intimate and beautifully romantic ceremony that even the people of Corinthia seemed content to let stay private.

Armando and his father had to be pleased. A week from now, Armando would announce his engagement, the country would be plunged into wedding fervor yet again and no one would ever remember the princess’s pregnancy started before she met Max in New York.. Plus by this time next year, Mona would probably be pregnant—because she was no doubt amazingly fertile along with all her other qualities. Success all around. Long live the royal family of Corinthia.

Because it was Christmas Eve, the reception did double duty as a holiday celebration, only instead of trees, there were towers of poinsettias, each near ten feet high. People could be seen exchanging gifts by them when they weren’t dancing and enjoying the wedding festivities. Seated at a table by one of the ballroom windows, Rosa triple-checked whether the decorations included mistletoe. Given her and Armando’s recent track record with the plant, one could never be too careful.

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