DANTE

The media circus was in full swing as we walked from the car to the front door of Angeletti, a luxurious jewelry store along one of Rome's most fashionable streets. We'd stopped here specifically for this, so the cameras could capture us picking out an engagement ring.

Bronson was with us, probably because he wanted to soak up the publicity. The bastard grinned as he scanned the frenzy of reporters, completely ignoring Savannah's obvious discomfort.

I was used to a crush of media, but from the way her eyes widened and how she chewed on her bottom lip, I could tell she was overwhelmed. I slipped my arm around her waist and drew her into me.

"It's okay. I've got you," I murmured in her ear. "Don't answer any questions and don't make eye contact with the reporters. Keep smiling, at least until we get inside."

The shop owner held the door open for our entourage, then locked it behind us. That didn't stop the media from pressing their faces and cameras against the glass.

Savannah exhaled and looked around the store. "Wow, that was something out there."

Bronson rubbed his hands together and she shot him a withering look. I could tell that her patience was wearing thin with him, and to avoid any confrontation in public, I steered her to a glass case.

"Look at these, amore mio," I said, pointing to a dozen enormous, glittering rocks. "What do you think?"

She narrowed her eyes and the owner hustled to remove a velvet tray. "They're quite . . . large."

"The bigger the better," the owner said in accented English. "Don't all women love diamonds?"

Savannah scowled and turned to me. "How am I going to do my job while wearing this?" she whispered. I hadn't thought of that.

"You can leave it in the hotel safe when we're racing," I suggested.

Bronson materialized next to us, laughing. "Exactly, Dante. You're so diligent, Savannah. Of course you can't wear it in the garage."

I shot Bronson a pointed look and he retreated to the corner to check his phone. His presence was beyond annoying, and I felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment.

Savannah pointed at one of the stones. The owner explained that it was a two-carat, emerald-cut diamond. She tried it on.

"It fits perfectly," I observed.

She was so adorable when she looked at me, wide-eyed, and said seriously, "This is really pretty."

I studied her beautiful face. That was when I stole a kiss from those impossibly plump lips.

"The ring is yours." Good God, it was almost as if we were shopping for a real ring. What the hell was happening here?

"We'll take it," I said to the owner.

I tucked her hair behind her ear before we walked to the store's exit. My fingers itched to cup her ass in that silky dress. She was my fiancée, at least in the eyes of the world. Surely the salesclerks would later tell reporters about my behavior.

I grabbed a handful of her and groaned, pulling her closer, ostensibly so I could whisper in her ear. "Make sure you flash the diamond, cara."

"You're distracting me."

I grinned against her ear. "What was it that you said to me the other day? Suck it up, buttercup?"

Flashbulbs blinded us as we stepped outside, the bright snaps colliding with the equally bright Roman sunshine. Savannah smiled like the Mona Lisa and stayed close, allowing me to propel her into the limo.

What was she thinking? Did she not want me to grab her? Was she dreaming of the day she would be engaged for real? Or was she thinking about what was about to happen tonight, when we were alone in my villa?

"You did good, tesoro," I said later as we boarded the jet and took off from Rome for the private airstrip near the Amalfi Coast.

She quirked her mouth into a half smile, staring at the ring.

"What? You don't like it?"

"It's so, I don't know. Big." She shrugged. "Probably not what I would choose if I were really getting engaged."

"Thought about that a lot, have you? Having a princess wedding and all?" For some reason, the wistful look on her face made me feel . . . things.

"Actually, no. I've had enough days as a princess to last me a lifetime."

"Che?" I tilted my head and questioned her in Italian. She was starting to understand the basics of my language, and I'd been impressed that she'd picked up so much from me and the other Italians on the team in such a short time.

She drew in a sharp breath. "The pageants. When I competed."

"Ohh, right. Of course. Now that I've gotten to know you, you don't seem like the pageant type. You're more, I don't know. Down to earth?"

She shrugged. "My mom pushed me into it when I was little. Said I'd stand out because of my red hair. I used to dress up like a princess almost every weekend. Big hair, nails, gowns. From the time I was five.

"It's probably why I was never set on a fairy-tale wedding. Or a wedding at all. I don't think I'll even get married, ever."

"Oh, you're too young to say that. But you being a beauty queen, that explains a lot."

"It does?"

"Now I know why you're able to turn on that brilliant smile whenever you're around a camera. And how you're so poised in public. And why you can't hide all that beauty under the greasy coveralls. It all makes sense now. Why'd you stop? Didn't you want to become Miss America?"

She snorted and stared out the window of the plane. "Hell no. It's a long story."

Now I was interested in her mysterious answer. "We've got time. All week, in fact. I can't wait to hear about it." I leaned in and kissed her soft cheek.

She flashed me a wary look. "Maybe later. Dante, have you ever thought about getting married?"

It was my turn to shrug. "I don't have any good role models for marriage. My parents' marriage was—is—a disaster. But let's not dwell on that." I drummed my fingers on the armrest. "And your parents? How do they get along? They seemed pretty happy on that call a few hours ago."

"Yep. They actually have a great marriage, even though they're opposites. My mom's high strung and a control freak, and my dad's more laid back. Together, they're perfect. Everything my mom does is perfect, in fact."

I wondered why Savannah looked so sad when she said that, and didn't want to pry further. So I took her hand when she turned her head back to the window and we flew the rest of the way in silence.