temperature as Gabriel extracted a box, set it on a table and waited for the guard to insert his key. He then produced his own to unlock the box. Inside there were a number of jewelry cases stacked one on another. He chose a case marked with a symbol that Gemma, through her years of working for the Atraeus family, recognized instantly.
She stiffened. “You can’t give me that. It’s Fabergé.”
She looked around quickly, to make sure the security guard hadn’t overheard, but he had already retreated to a small glassed-in office.
“As my fiancée you would be expected to wear significant jewelry. This set belonged to my great-grandmother Eugenie. She was Russian.”
Gabriel flipped open the box. Inside was a gorgeous set, which included a diamond necklace, earrings, a gorgeous set of hair clips and a ring. The diamonds were large and shimmered with burning flashes of fire under the lights, signaling purity and perfection of cut. She couldn’t imagine the cost of the diamonds, let alone the fact that they were designed and set by Fabergé.
Gemma shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“It’s either this, or we have to go to a jewelry store in town.” He checked his watch. “We’re due at Sophie’s shop in half an hour. If you want to shop for something else, we can do that afterward.”
Gemma sent Gabriel a frustrated look. “There’s no point in shopping for a ring when I only need it for a few days.”
“Then wear this.” Gabriel picked the ring out and insisted she try it on. “You need a ring for tonight. If this one fits, we’ll take it.”
“We could get a piece of costume jewelry, or else something smaller and cheaper—”
Gabriel’s glance cut her off. “No Messena bride would wear anything but family jewels—it’s tradition. Mario is a traditionalist to the bone. He’ll want to see which set you’ve been given.” The faint ruefulness of his glance softened the demand.
“There must be something smaller and cheaper in the box—”
“If there was, no Messena bride would wear it.”
Despite herself the phrase Messena bride sent a small thrill through her. “I’m not a bride, not even close.”
“And that’s not even close to an excuse.” Picking up her left hand, Gabriel slipped the ring on her third finger.
The warmth of his fingers, the faint calloused roughness against her skin sent another sharp little kick of sensation through her. The ring warmed against her skin. Her breath caught; the fit was perfect.
Gemma lifted her head, which was a mistake, because Gabriel was so close. Her gaze caught and held with his and for a long, drawn-out moment she thought he might kiss her.
She blinked, unexpectedly emotional, because the ring, this scene, was something she had never dared dream about. Yet here she was, and Gabriel had just placed the most beautiful engagement ring she had ever seen on her finger. It should have meant fidelity and undying love; instead it meant absolutely nothing.
The sharp little pang of hurt finally made her face something she should have known all along. She wasn’t just fatally attracted to Gabriel; somehow, despite all of the things that had gone wrong between them, she was in love with him. Seriously, devastatingly, in love.
She felt the blood drain from her face. Straight-out warmth and friendship she could cope with, but she knew the extremity of her nature. It had gotten her into trouble often enough. Issues were black or white, emotions either hot or cold. If she was in love, that was it.
Gabriel’s hands closed around her upper arms, steadying her. “Are you all right? You went dead white just then.”
“I’m fine. A little tired.” Even though she knew she would be compounding the situation by letting him touch her, she allowed him to draw her close. For a few moments she gloried in the anchoring heat of his touch, his concern, and examined the frightening truth: that even fighting and arguing, she would rather be with Gabriel than anyone.
She loved being with him now, touching him, wrapped in his warmth, the beat of his heart thudding in her ear. She loved him, and it couldn’t be.
Misery wound through her. In that moment she recognized a stark truth. As much as she wanted to marry and settle down, to have a husband she could love and more children, it wasn’t going to happen.
She wasn’t going to fall for anyone else. She had been in love with Gabriel for years. If she was honest, since she was about sixteen years old and had volunteered to help her father at the Messena estate, just so she could catch a glimpse of Gabriel.
It explained how curiously content she had been not to date or get involved with any of the men who had tried to entice her into relationships after she had gotten pregnant.
Loosening his hold, she sniffed, still ridiculously emotional. She glanced at the ring, which burned with an impossibly white fire, desperate for a distraction, because any moment now she was going to cry.
Surreptitiously, she dashed at one dampening tear, but the movement alerted Gabriel, who was busy repacking the safe-deposit box.
“Hey.” He cupped her face and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks and pulled her close.
She stiffened for a moment, then gave in, wound her arms around his waist and leaned into him. Distantly, she registered the firmness of his arousal, although the hug was devoid of sexual demand. Gabriel just seemed content to hold her.
A sound from the small glass office made her stiffen.
The moment broken, Gabriel let her go. Automatically, she started to tug the ring off.
“Leave it on,” Gabriel said quietly. “That’s the whole point.”
The security guard collected the box and as he did so he glanced at the ring. “Just got engaged?”
He beamed, his face pink as he shook hands with Gabriel. “I tried not to notice, Mr. Messena, but I couldn’t help but see that something special was happening. Have you named the date?”
Gemma opened her mouth to protest, but a dark glance from Gabriel cut her short. “We haven’t set a date yet.”
Gabriel introduced her to the guard, Evan. When he heard her name, he frowned. “The name’s familiar.”
Gemma’s stomach sank, but Gabriel forestalled any further questions by picking up the case that contained the rest of the jewels, slipping them in his jacket pocket then checking his watch again.
After asking after Evan’s wife, who apparently suffered from arthritis, and successfully diverting him, Gabriel urged her from the room, one hand at the small of her back.
Gemma caught the reflected glitter of the diamond on her finger as the heavy vault door swung closed behind them. Another set of doors, these ones made of heavy glass, threw their reflection back at them.
Gabriel looked tall, broad-shouldered and darkly handsome; Gemma looked unexpectedly voluptuous and Italian in the biscotti suit. By some kind of weird alchemy the color had added a richness to her hair and invested her pale skin with an olive glow. With the
