The Honest Affair (Rose Gold Book 3)

by Nicole French

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nina

  And there it was. The promise he had made before, the one that hung in the air, suspended like particles of dust, turned golden not by the setting sun but by the rich hue of promise.

  Even the light in this country seemed different. In New York, everything was so cold, blue and gray the way the light bounced off skyscraper and sidewalk. But here, with only the warm stone and terracotta to reflect the world around us, even the air seemed cast in gold.

  For the rest of my life. And, he seemed to infer, for the rest of mine. If that’s what I wanted.

  Reluctantly, I pressed my hands to his chest.

  “Wait,” I whispered. “Wait, Matthew. Please. Stop.”

  His mouth paused, hovering just above the fabric guarding my breast. A muscle in his jaw ticced, but he straightened, worry flashing through the desire in his deep green eyes. He wanted me, yes. It was evident in the way his hands couldn’t quite let go of my slip, the way his breathing was just a bit labored. But the truth was clear.

  I’m no saint, he had insisted. I almost smiled. How wrong he was. When it really mattered, Matthew was as patient as a saint.

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse with want. “Still too…too soon?” He almost sounded afraid of the answer.

  I pushed back a stray lock of his silky dark hair. “No, it’s not that. I…”

  I could feel his need pressed against me and wondered if he felt it pulsing through my entire body as well. Wondered if he could feel my own and the way it made me tremble in front of him.

  But something else was still between us.

  That word again.

  The secrets that drove every fear I had.

  I wanted them gone. I wanted him to help me chase it away forever.

  “Please,” Matthew interrupted my brooding. “I can’t take this anymore.”

  “Can’t take what?” I asked.

  “This fear. I know you feel like you can’t trust me, Nina. I know I fucked up last summer. But I swear to God, my job, my house, it doesn’t fucking matter if we’re not together. This is all I want. You are all I want.”

  My stomach twisted. So many women fantasized about moments like these, when a man would give up the world just to be with them. But I found I didn’t want to cost Matthew the world. I hated that I had cost him anything at all.

  “Oh, no, that’s not—Matthew, I—”

  “I have something for you,” he said suddenly. “Don’t move.”

  I watched as he went to his shoulder bag and rooted around for a moment. He returned with something cradled in his palm.

  “This isn’t the way I wanted to do this,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

  I frowned. “Do what?”

  For a moment, he only blinked at me, his eyes large, green pools of love and apprehension.

  “Matthew,” I tried again, more gently this time. “Do what?”

  “I imagined bringing you up to the top of the Empire State Building. Like we were Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, but we actually made it up there in the end.”

  I smiled. His sisters were really right about him—their brother had a terrible romance with old movies. I had never told him how many of them I had watched alone in my room, not because I was particularly fond of black-and-white cinema or the stunted dialogue, but because they made me feel closer to him during all those months when I never believed I could be.

  Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant…it was a reference to An Affair to Remember. A film I had actually seen. One where the two characters, both involved with others, meet on a steamer on its way to New York. And at the end of their journey, they promise to meet at the top of the Empire State Building to start their lives together. In six months, they said, if they still felt the same, if they could make themselves worthy of each other, there they would go.

  In the movie, of course, they were temporarily thwarted when the heroine got into a terrible accident at the bottom of the building. But the hero’s intention was clear. If she had managed to meet him up there, their real lives together, an eternity, would have started at the top of the New York institution.

  Which meant…

  This time, I really couldn’t breathe. I didn’t even want to think about what might be happening right now for fear that it wouldn’t.

  “I was going to take you up there at dawn,” Matthew said as he took my hand in his. “Not at sunset like everyone else. But in the morning, when we could be alone and watch the sun rise over New York. And I was going to tell you that even if I couldn’t lay the world at your feet, I’d never stop trying. I was going to show you the city and promise you that one day, we’d make it ours again. We’d cover every damn inch of it with our love, Nina, not the shadows of our pasts.”

  The raw vulnerability in those deep green eyes had me shaking. Was he…no, he wasn’t. He couldn’t. Matthew wouldn’t.

  “Matthew,” I whispered. “What are you saying?”

  A shy smile spread across his face like jam on toast. Perfect and impossibly sweet.

  “I’m saying I don’t need a fancy building to show you I love you, doll. I don’t need to wait for the perfect moment, because every moment with you is perfect. For the last year, I’ve been living for those moments—every second I get with you.”

  I melted toward him. “Oh, Matthew. I’ve lived for those moments too. I have.”

  “But the thing is, living for the moment isn’t enough for me anymore. I want the next moments too. I want tomorrow, Nina. I want forever.”

  I watched with awe as Matthew sank to one knee in the middle of the mess I’d made, the mess that somehow matched the two of us perfectly. I was in nothing but my undergarments, Matthew wore only his street clothes. All our pretenses stripped, the world around us in shambles. And yet, just beyond our window, the beauty of Florence glowed in the golden light of the future. And Matthew’s eyes still shone with pure, miraculous love. For me. For us.

  “I know it won’t be easy,” he said solemnly. “I know we’ve got a hell of a fight ahead of us. I want to fight with you. I want to do everything with you and for the rest of our lives, Nina. All I want to do is show you how much I love you. And it starts here. It starts now.”

  He held up his other hand and, with his thumb, opened a small blue velvet box, then turned it toward me.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  It was a ring. Nestled in its velvet slot, the white gold of an intricately filigreed band sparkled in the sun, curving around an exquisite cushion-cut diamond. Two carats, at least. Antique. It had to be. I couldn’t imagine how Matthew could afford something so precious, so unique otherwise.

  Matthew’s voice was low, almost a whisper. But strong. Certain. “Will you marry me?”

  “I…”

  I could only stare at it. It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful.

  And I didn’t deserve any of it.

  “But, Matthew,” I said unable to keep the sudden tears at bay. “I’m still married. How could you want—how could you ever—”

  He shot to his feet, tossing the ring to the mattress in order to grab my wrists and hold me steady. I pulled, but he wouldn’t let me go.

  “Shh, shh,” he crooned. “It’s all right. It’s just a question. That’s all it is.”

  I looked at the ring, gleaming in its box on the bed. That was much more than a simple question.

  “And I didn’t say we’re going straight to a church.”

  Matthew brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face. The simple gesture brought my focus back to him.

  “It’s a promise, Nina. It’s simple. I want the future with you. I want forever with you. Do you want it with me too?”

  I hiccupped. “I—It’s not that. I—Matthew, what will we do? How can you want to marry me when I’ve cost you so much? When I’m still tied to someone else?”

  “Well, I know we can’t skip over to city hall when we get back, doll,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean the intent isn
’t there. Nina, you have me. I don’t know how else to prove it to you. If this isn’t enough…” He shook his head, shoulders slumping with sadness and regret.

  “It’s enough,” I said quickly, suddenly choked. “Oh, Matthew, it’s more than enough. Please believe me, it’s all I want.”

  He looked up again, eyes reignited with hope. “Then I’m going to ask again, and I want a straight answer. Nina Evelyn Astor de Vries, when all this is over, one day, when you’re free like I know you will be, will you be my wife? Will you let me be your husband? Woman, will you please fucking marry me?”

  We blinked at each other like owls, stunned by the candor of our own emotions. And then, because I couldn’t stop myself, I threw my arms around his neck and closed the distance between us.

  “Yes,” I whispered against his soft lips. “My answer is yes.”

  He was still for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure he had heard me correctly. “I…I’m going to need to hear that one more time. Just—just to be sure you actually said it.”

  A smile played over my lips. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Matthew Luca Zola. As soon as humanly possible, I’ll marry you.”

  His eyes closed, and he mumbled something unintelligible.

  “What was that?” I murmured.

  They opened again, and a sly half-smile appeared. “Just a quick prayer. Something along the lines of ‘Thank fucking God.’”

  I giggled. I couldn’t help it.

  But the humor in Matthew’s eyes disappeared as quickly as it had come. Instead, along with the love that simply always seemed to shine there when he looked at me, some fierce undercurrent rippled to the surface. That animal edge my beautiful man could never quite tame.

  His hands slid up and down my back, the angst of the day melted off. That was Matthew’s magic. Most of my life, I had been a glacier. He melted that wall and suddenly I was as volatile as a river.

  He slipped my straps off my shoulders, and the top of my slip fell to my waist, baring my breasts and allowing him to bury his face between them.

  “Do you feel it?” he asked as he pressed a kiss to one side, then another. “Do you feel how much I love you, Nina?”

  I weaved my fingers into his hair, enjoying its lush, silky texture. I wasn’t sure that anyone who had been hurt like we had could ever fully trust another to love them. But maybe that was part of the bargain. Because I did love this man, more than I could really fathom for myself.

  And maybe he felt the same about me.

  “I do feel it,” I whispered, hardly able to keep my voice from shaking with want. “Please, Matthew. Show me.”

  “I want us to show each other.” His tongue slipped between his full lips and touched the very end of my strained nipple. “Nina.” His voice shook slightly. “Please, I…please tell me we can—”

  I pulled him back to me.

  “Take me,” I said. “Please, take everything away. I want nothing between us.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he growled, and with a sudden rip, my slip fell away from my shoulders in two shredded pieces of silk, joining the mess of clothes and feathers and wreckage on the floor.

  Before I could argue, I was suddenly swept up and tossed onto the bed. I recovered just in time to find Matthew shucking the rest of his clothes. In his hurry, he abandoned his usual fastidiousness, kicking his shoes and tailored wool pants into the rest of the mess, affording me only a few seconds to admire the genuine beauty of his form—broad shoulders, narrow hips, the step-laddered sculpture of muscle and smooth golden skin that soon covered me on the bed.

  He took a handful of hair and twisted it tightly behind my head. “Fuck.”

  It wasn’t poetry. But I had never wanted that. Matthew’s sometimes coarse beauty was balm to my soul, accustomed as it was to the pristine polish of my family, my entire life. Who cared for a veneer when everything beneath it was broken? Matthew’s face was scarred from actual battles. His language was rough, sometimes unfinished, his clothes, while tailored, always slightly worn and frayed. And yet, I wouldn’t have changed a single thing about him. I loved him, not in spite of the imperfections, but because of them.

  His tongue twisted in mad, frenzied circles down my neck, followed by his teeth, his lips, sucking hard, leaving their own marks. The spot over my left breast throbbed, the place where I had encouraged the remnants of such bruises for months when we were apart. As if those reminders of him could help me ignore the other bruises I had never chosen.

  Then he sat up on his knees, spread my legs, and surveyed my naked body like a mercenary pirate examining the splendor of his conquest. Or no, perhaps not a pirate after all. In this light, this country, this room…Matthew was no longer stealing another man’s wife. Here, he was only taking what was rightfully his. Not a pirate, then. A prince.

  “Let me see it.” He picked up the ring box from where it was buried in the linens and removed the piece of jewelry. “Give me your hand.”

  Obediently, I held up my left hand. In September, I had removed the gaudy rings that had felt more like shackles for ten years. Sold them, in fact, before leaving an anonymous donation at a women’s shelter only a few blocks from the jeweler in Kip’s Bay. I watched with awe as Matthew pressed a kiss to my bare finger, then held up the ring. And as he slipped it down to my knuckle, he slid inside me as well, deeper than he ever had before.

  “And there we are,” he murmured as he dropped my hand and fell forward to cage me between his arms. His lips found mine, and our tongues began a delicious grapple.

  “There we are,” I gasped. “Oh, Matthew, please.”

  “Please, what, baby? What do you need?” He pressed in deeper, willing me to take all of his considerable size.

  “I—I—” I couldn’t speak as I arched against the bed and wrapped my legs around his waist.

  He pulled out, then slid back in. And did it again as he sucked reverentially on my lower lip. His movements were slow, but almost harsh as he located the depths of me, trapped me against the linens, dared me to throw him off.

  But I didn’t want to. Matthew wasn’t scared of the fight. I knew that now. Tenacious and valiant, he would fight for those he loved with every fiber of his being. His friends. His family. And me.

  I arched as an arrow of need shot through me, violent and true. Matthew slipped a hand around my neck and urged me up to wrap my legs around his waist as he sat back on his knees. Then, with a sudden thrust, I was backed against the wall, my head smacking the plaster as Matthew buried himself even deeper.

  “This,” he mumbled into my neck. “You. Me. Oh, God, Nina. You don’t even know.”

  “Don’t know what?” I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut as he thrust harder, taking a punishing pace that still somehow set me free. “Tell me.”

  “How much—how much I love you. How much I need you, Nina. With fucking everything I am.”

  His eyes squeezed shut with anguish, though he continued to move. I threaded my hands into his hair and pulled, urging him to look at me again. When they opened, his eyes were wells of love and fear.

  “Yes, I do,” I told him honestly, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, I do, my love. My all. I know because I feel the same. You are my heart, Matthew. You are my everything.”

  He groaned, the animal sound visceral and vibrating through us both. His hands gripped the flesh of my thighs hard enough to bruise, but the pain was delicious. His mouth found my breast, bit lightly into the soft flesh. I screamed. With love. With joy. With every unnamable emotion I had ever felt for this man. For everything I ever would.

  Chapter Twenty

  Matthew

  Later, after the sun had fallen beyond the hills and the sky outside our window was black with night, I held Nina in my arms. The room was a mess and our stomachs were empty, but I still wasn’t sure if this was real. I was a damn sinner, and I was pretty sure I was ending up in purgatory, if not hell when I finally croaked.

  But if there was a heaven, this would be it, would
n’t it?

  “You’re still awake,” she murmured, her voice huskier than normal. From all the screaming, I thought with a smirk.

  Yeah, yeah. I could still get it done when I had to.

  I looked down at where her left hand lay on my chest, idly playing over my skin. Nonna’s ring gleamed in the moonlight. Holy shit.

  I didn’t know why I’d brought the thing until that moment when Nina had looked at me with fear that tore a hole through my chest. She had been trembling, like a baby deer caught in a wolf’s gaze. I wanted her to know I wasn’t the wolf. Or maybe I was, but she would never be my prey. I’d protect her with every animalistic urge I had. I was hers body and soul.

  I wasn’t stupid. She still belonged to another man in the eyes of the law. Just like we’d have to face the mess of clothes and broken lamps in this room in the morning, we’d have the rest of our mess waiting for us still in New York. But those days would come to an end eventually, and then Nina and I would be free. Really, truly free. We couldn’t run forever. But we could still return together. I hoped.

  “I’m still awake,” I confirmed after a minute.

  “Thinking of what?”

  “Of us,” I said honestly. “About tomorrow.”

  I picked up her hand and examined it in the dim light. I hadn’t actually expected the ring to fit, given the fact that there was a solid eight-inch difference between Nina and my grandmother. But for all her height, Nina’s bones were delicate. The ring looked perfect on her long, slender finger.

  “Tomorrow,” she echoed faintly. But I didn’t tense. That wasn’t doubt in her voice, I didn’t think. Fear, maybe, but not doubt.

  “It’s not the ring, is it?” I asked.

  Nina’s tastes were at least as particular as mine. I’d be disappointed, maybe, if she didn’t want Nonna’s ring. But it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I wanted her to be happy more than anything. Even if it meant I had to take out a second mortgage to pay for the one she wanted.

  “Absolutely not,” she said, holding it up to examine it. “It’s perfect.”