Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

H E EMERGED FROM his room, dressed meticulously, of course. But she could see the distance there. When he moved to her, he did not touch her.

She lifted her chin. “So this is how it’s going to be?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to let them win. This is what they wanted. They want to stop the two of us from getting married. So you’re going to act in a way that’s going to guarantee to drive me away, you’re going to act in a way that will guarantee we appear compromised and defeated at our own charity event.”

“I am not compromised or defeated,” he said, a defiant light in his dark eyes.

“You won’t even touch me. You don’t think that people are going to notice that? You don’t think that it is utterly, horribly apparent that whatever connection we have is not functioning right now?”

His lip curled. “I am in command of this.”

“Then be in command of it. Don’t just perform. Don’t let somebody else decide how much shame you should carry.” She lifted her chin. “And I don’t need you to tell me what I understand and what I don’t understand. I have lived with you for a month. I’m getting to know you. Maybe I didn’t go through all the same things that you did. But everybody... Everybody is a little bit messed up by something. We all are. That isn’t a bad thing, it isn’t necessarily anybody’s fault. But it is the way that it is. So no, maybe I haven’t experienced the trauma that you have, but I know what it’s like to have something very personal put out there for the public to see. Maybe it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you, but it does to me. And you don’t need to protect the pain that you feel by trying to minimize mine. You also don’t need to hide. I’m here. And I’m willing to talk, to listen, whatever you need.”

His black eyes remained cold, but he looked her up and down. “I don’t need anything.”

“Of course not. You don’t need people. You are Rocco Moretti. An island.” She felt terrible, for saying that. After everything he had been through. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are not a small boy stuck in your bedroom anymore.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that they dragged all of that out. I’m sorry that they’ve dredged all of this up. It isn’t fair.”

He looked... Regretful then. “No,” he said. “I’m the one that is sorry. I was completely unsympathetic when these things were dragged out about your family. I was entirely cold about it. I did compare it both to my own pain, and to my own goals. And your pain meant nothing in light of them. I didn’t care if past lovers talked about our sexual encounters, because I don’t feel... I chose that. At least. You have to stand by your choices. But now that something I have no control over has been brought out for public consumption, I get it. I feel it. And I also feel regret, for not understanding before. For giving you no sympathy. I at least chose this. I knew on some level that there could be consequences for it. But I dragged you into this, and this is not your life. I was born into a life where aspects of me will be a public consumption. You weren’t.”

“No,” she said. “I have no experience with it. But as long as you... As long as I didn’t feel completely cut off from you, it was bearable. The past few days haven’t been.”

He looked as if he didn’t know how to respond to that. And so he didn’t. That was the best that she could read of him.

If he didn’t know, he simply wouldn’t. And it was okay, because what she could see, what she understood was that her words had changed something inside of him. She would cling to that. So he moved near her, and he looped his arm through hers. And that was affirmation of something.

“Come along, cara . We will make it a night to remember.”

Looking at the pain that he had caused Noelle created no small amount of shame inside of him. But he had work to do. He had to make sure that this charity event went off without a hitch. He had to prove that he was untouchable. He had to reclaim his control.

To prove that they would not have a win over him. It wasn’t that he doubted that. It was only that he was not used to having another person present when he was contending with anything. Having her in his house, in his life, was unprecedented.

And it made him have to consider things in a way he had not before. He had hurt her feelings.

He held on to her the whole way down to the car, and then into the car. He was aware that they were having their photograph taken, but that was not why he held her.

When they arrived at the venue, an outdoor garden, heated by a large rig set up all around, with lights strung above them, he was amazed.

“You planned this?”

“Yes,” she said.

“How did you even know where to begin?”

“I might be a small-town girl, but there’s nothing I know or love more than Christmas. Or a big Christmas event.”

There was a large Christmas tree at the center, reaching up past the string lights, the angel on top glittering brightly.

For some reason, it hit him square in the chest. They’d had so many things in their house, but never a Christmas tree. Never anything that was there with purpose or beauty. It was all ugly, desperate consumption.

This was not clean or spare. It was resplendent. Glittering.

It did not disgust him.

It made him feel something.

And he had no idea where to put it or what to do with it.

There were so many people waiting to speak to her, to congratulate her.

When he had chosen her to be his wife he had not imagined that she would shine on this level. She had been dragged through the mud. The media had been merciless to her.

And yet, here she was, with the glow on her face that could not be contained.

How could he have shut down as he did? When she deserved his unending praise?

This was his pattern, he supposed. When he felt out of control. When life felt out of his control.

He could not lock himself in a bedroom anymore, because he was not alone.

You would be the one freezing her out. And in that way, you would be like your mother.

He tried to push that thought to the side. He had been angry when she had drawn parallels between himself and his mother. But he couldn’t deny that they existed. It was becoming harder and harder to do so.

Control.

What a strange thing that control could take such different shapes, and essentially be from the same root.

The need to hoard, the need to consume, the need for space, the need for nothing.

It was only through her eyes that he could see the similarities. And clearly.

He pushed that thought to the side, because he didn’t need to have it tonight. Tonight was about her triumph. Tonight was about showing the world what they really were.

No. It’s not about showing the world what you really are. Your relationship is alive. It is for convenience...it is for business. You know that.

Except it didn’t feel like it was only that. He had missed her these past days. He had denied himself her body.

Because he had been so disgusted with himself. Because those pictures, that story, had brought up the depths of his shame. Had left him feeling unclean. And then his own reaction to her had made him feel even worse.

Even more unworthy of her. And then she had appeared, in that dress, her determination a ring of light around her.

How could he be any less than she was?

How could he give less than she gave?

Nobody at the party brought up any of the news articles. Of course they wouldn’t, not here. No one who had been given an invite to this was lying in wait. But that would not always be the case.

There would be times when they had to confront animosity, when they would have to confront the sneering delight of people who enjoyed their embarrassment. But thankfully it was not tonight.

She deserved this night. She deserved everything.

He did not dance. It wasn’t in his nature. And yet when other couples went out to the dance floor he found himself compelled to do the same. With her.

He went to her, and reached out his hand. “Dance with me.”

He let himself get drunk on her. The touch, the exhilaration of spinning with her on the dance floor. He let everyone around them fade away. He let himself feel the magic, the kind of joy he had never let himself feel around Christmas.

At the end of the evening, at the end of their last dance, she stretched up on her toes and kissed his lips, in front of everyone. “Merry Christmas.”