The Fabrizio Bride

Chapter Four

"What?" Sarika gasped.

"You heard me." Heat rose up Rafe's neck, and he ground his teeth together. Why had he let her provoke him like that? He'd had it all planned out. He would be sincere and charming. Win her over with gentle persuasion. Then she'd pushed his buttons—again—and he'd screwed it up.

What the hell. It was only a marriage proposal.

Idiot.

"You're out of your mind," she said, voice shaking. Whether from shock or anger he didn't know. "You called me a liar and a cheat. That's supposed to make me want to marry you?"

"I apologized for that."

"And that makes it better?" She placed a hand over her heart as if to protect it.

Guilt twisted him inside.

"It's too late, Rafe. All of it's too late. If you really wanted to marry me, you would have asked me ten months ago, instead of walking away. You would have been proud to call me your girlfriend instead of hiding our relationship behind your security team and pretending nothing was different."

"We had good reasons for that."

"Yeah, you didn't want to marry me. So what's changed?"

"I've changed."

She frowned, staring at him as if she could see into his soul. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

Everything was so chaotic with her. Such a rush of emotions—anger, doubt, jealousy. But joy, too. And passion. He'd never been with a woman who ignited such a fire in him. He wasn't going to lose her to that dirtbag Berrucci—not that she needed to know that. She'd probably marry the bastard just to spite him.

He leaned forward and took her hand again. "Look, Sarika, I wasn't ready for marriage then. I am now."

"Why?"

"Because I've had time to think about it and decided it's for the best."

"Why?"

"Can't you just accept I've had a change of heart?"

"No. Last night you said you never should have gotten involved with me in the first place. I saw the regret in your eyes after we kissed."

"That's done now. I let my emotions get in the way."

"Get in the way? You think you can just push aside how you feel? Or how I feel?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? For God's sake, give me something, Rafe."

He clenched his jaw. Always the questions. She couldn't just take him at his word; she had to go deeper, push harder. He released her hand and sat back, arms crossing over his chest. "We're going in circles."

She stared at him for a minute, then sat back, too. "Like a broken record. I want more and you can't give it."

"I'm willing to give you marriage. How much more is there?"

"Everything—your heart, your soul. It's called surrender. It's what people do when they love each other."

Sarika turned her head to look out at the sun-drenched day. The narrow road wound through the mountains as they headed north. Tall pine trees reached toward a blue, cloudless sky. How could it be so lovely outside when inside she was a churning, chaotic mess? She'd seen the look of horror cross Rafe's face when she'd mentioned surrender, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. No, not cry. He didn't deserve such heartfelt emotion from her.