A Cinderella To Secure His Heir (Cinderella Seductions Book 1)

by Michelle Smart

  ‘There is no mix-up. That’s your uniform for the evening.’

  ‘A ball gown? I need a proper uniform to wear so that guests and staff can identify me...’

  His laughter rumbled through her skin. ‘I am afraid it is too late to change it, bella. Enjoy it—consider it a reward for all your hard work. I will see you shortly.’

  Before she could protest any further he ended the call.

  She sighed and fingered the hem of the dress. It felt like silk. Further examination of it revealed no label to identify its maker.

  The dress was incredible. But it was not an appropriate dress for her to wear that night. As the event manager she needed to be easily identifiable, not look as if she could pass as one of the guests.

  But, as Valente had so helpfully pointed out, it was too late to change it. She had only a two-hour window until the first guests arrived.

  Instead of getting ready, she took Dom from Miranda, the nanny, gave him his bottle and played with him for a while. She wished she didn’t have to leave him again that night. Miranda had been great in sending her regular updates on his welfare that day but, despite being so busy, Beth had missed him horrendously. He’d been at her side since his birth.

  She kissed his plump cheek then kissed his button nose. ‘Mummy needs to get ready now,’ she told him, before handing him back to Miranda.

  Calling herself ‘Mummy’ was something that still caused a wrench in her heart. Caroline was his mummy but Caroline had made Beth promise to be his mummy. It was a promise she would keep for the rest of her life.

  Beth showered quickly, dried her hair and applied a little make-up then, with Miranda’s help, got into the dress.

  It fitted perfectly. The box that had lain on the floor beneath it contained a pair of gold shoes that also fitted perfectly.

  Who, she wondered moodily, had authorised such a dress for her? Giannis Basinas? If him, then why? She still hadn’t met him, all communication having been done through Valente.

  Had Valente authorised the dress?

  Which begged the question of who Valente was to Giannis. Her assumption that he worked at the hotel had proved to be wrong.

  But there was no time to wonder any longer. The guests would start arriving soon. She needed to be in the ballroom. She might be dressed like a princess but she was at this ball to work.

  Work or not, there was no denying that the anticipation running through her was on a scale she felt right down to her toes.

  * * *

  Alessio entered the already crowded reception room and helped himself to a glass of champagne. Being a good head taller than most people gave him the advantage of seeing over the elaborately dressed, highly excited guests, and the pianist entertaining them, but he couldn’t see Beth.

  He cut through the crowd. At the ballroom entrance he nodded at the security man guarding it, who opened the door for him.

  And there she was, clipboard and tablet in hand as they’d been earlier, making her way around the tables lining the east and west walls of the room, double checking that everything was perfect...

  His throat closed as he took in the perfection of her.

  The dress he’d selected for her fitted as if the seamstress had sewn it with Beth as her mannequin. The curves of her body, that the outfits in which he’d seen her before had only hinted at, were more feminine than he’d imagined. She’d swept her dark hair into an elegant chignon which exposed the grace of her neck and emphasised the beauty of her bone structure.

  If his plan continued its successful path, it would not be long before his lips grazed that graceful neck...and the rest of that ravishing body.

  Beth had beauty and an exquisite eye for detail. With his guidance, she had the potential to be as great an asset to Palvetti as all the other Palvetti spouses had been.

  With his guidance, she would become the perfect Palvetti wife.

  He just had to keep the deception going a little longer, until the ball was over. He imagined there would be a scene when she discovered who he really was and he wanted that scene to be conducted in private.

  He finished his champagne and walked to her. ‘Good evening, bella,’ he said.

  She smiled to see him before her eyes narrowed a touch. ‘Hi, Valente... I see you’ve been given a non-uniform to wear too.’

  ‘My non-uniform does not look as good as yours,’ he replied evasively. His non-uniform had been hand-stitched by Milan’s finest tailor. ‘You look beautiful.’

  Her lightly golden cheeks flushed with colour and her lips pulled in before she said, ‘That’s kind of you to say. So, what do you think? Does the ballroom match Mr Basinas’s expectations?’

  He slowly turned around to take in everything anew and nodded.

  Gold, silver and white balloons hung from the high grand ceiling, matching heavy drapes lining the walls. The tables followed the same theme; ornately decorated and with centrepieces topped with feathers and miniature gold masks. The orchestra was on the stage, the musicians tuning their instruments, the champagne fountain already flowing.

  ‘Have you seen the other rooms?’ she asked.

  ‘I haven’t seen them finished. Show me.’

  She led the way, taking him through myriad other rooms adorned with the same decorations: the dining room, where a hot and cold buffet would be served throughout the night, and where a string quartet was tuning their instruments to entertain the diners; the cocktail lounge, filled with sofas and armchairs for those who wanted to catch their breath and listen to the music of a lounge pianist; the chocolate room, filled with edible creations hand-made in Switzerland and the disco room, which wouldn’t be opened until after the midnight fireworks, and would no doubt be filled with younger revellers wanting a break from waltzing to let their hair down to more familiar songs.

  It was hard to believe this had all been achieved in only six weeks.

  ‘You have done an incredible job,’ he told her as they walked back to the ballroom.

  ‘I can’t take the credit. It was a team effort, as you very well know.’ Beth would not allow her team’s achievements to be diminished. Eight members of her team had been camped in the palace for the past three weeks beavering away.

  ‘You directed it all. You pulled it together. This is your vision. Accept the plaudits and be proud of what you’ve achieved.’

  ‘I haven’t achieved anything yet,’ she reminded him. ‘As I said this morning, the proof of the pudding’s in the eating. Let’s wait to hear Mr Basinas’s and the guests’ feedback before getting carried away.’

  He opened his mouth but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the master of ceremonies approaching them.

  ‘Five minutes,’ he informed her gravely.

  Her stomach knotted. For a moment she feared she would be sick.

  Five minutes?

  ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured to Valente. ‘I need to get in position.’

  He cast her a look that made her belly melt.

  Her bones had melted just looking at him. She had not thought he could be more handsome but tonight, freshly shaved and dressed in a deep maroon, long-tailed dinner jacket the men had all been instructed to wear—colour and style optional—with matching trousers, black shirt and black bow-tie, he looked devastating.

  She hurried back into the ballroom to take her position by the champagne fountain. Moments later the orchestra played its first beat, the ballroom doors opened and the master of ceremonies formally announced the ball open.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE GUESTS POURING into the ballroom made a spectacular sight. The dress code was formal, but with an invitation to be colourful, and the guests had taken it at its word. Dresses every colour of the spectrum were there, the ladies resembling creatures from a fairy tale of long ago, the men dashing in their rich long-tails. The masks, all hand-crafted, ranged from s
imple yet hauntingly beautiful pieces that covered only the eyes to elaborate, bejewelled face-covering creations. It was a sight that made Beth’s heart soar.

  As the guests lined the sides of the great ballroom, ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right, a quartet of ballet dancers from Compania de Ballet de Casillas performed a short opening dance to welcome them, before gracefully leaving and being replaced by two-dozen professional ballroom dancers.

  The professionals danced the first waltz alone and then the master of ceremonies instructed the gentlemen to choose a partner. Soon, four hundred people filled the floor, the dresses whirling in a wonderful kaleidoscope of colour.

  For the next dance, the ladies got to choose their partner. Only one man refused to relinquish his dance partner, and as that man was Giannis Basinas himself no one was going to argue the point with him.

  From that moment, the evening passed in a blur, and Beth found herself able to breathe properly.

  She regularly monitored the other rooms, unobtrusively checking and double-checking everything, ready to instruct a team member to fix the tiniest imperfection.

  She had lost track of time when she made another return to the ballroom and received a tap on the shoulder.

  Spinning around, expecting to find a male guest requesting a dance—something she had had to decline four times already—her heart leapt into her throat to find Valente standing before her, two flutes of champagne in his hands.

  He held one out to her and bowed his head. ‘For you, my lady.’

  Much as she would have liked to pretend otherwise, Beth had been alert to his presence the entire evening. Every small glimpse had set her pulses thumping.

  She blinked away the effect of his emerald eyes boring into her and the drumming effect playing in her head, echoes from her thundering heart. ‘That’s kind, but I don’t drink when I’m working.’

  ‘You are officially off the clock as of now.’

  She rolled her eyes and strove to keep her voice light-hearted. ‘I’ll be off the clock at four in the morning when the ball finishes.’

  ‘I have spoken to Giannis. He is exceptionally pleased with how well everything is going. Now is the time for you to turn your work head off and enjoy yourself.’

  ‘Is that what you’ve been doing?’ she asked. ‘Enjoying yourself? Because I haven’t seen you do anything that looks like work.’

  ‘Dance with me and I’ll tell you all about it.’

  ‘Valente, I’m working. I can’t dance.’

  ‘I told you, you are officially off the clock. Your work is done. Your assistant can take charge. Your instructions now are to enjoy yourself.’

  ‘Is that an official order?’

  ‘Assolutamente.’ A wicked gleam flashed in his eyes that made her belly melt all over again. ‘And the first official order for enjoying yourself is to drink this glass of champagne. The second is to dance with me.’

  Valente was the intermediary between Beth and Giannis. He spoke for the Greek billionaire. If he said she was off duty then it had to be true.

  Romance filled the air within the palace. The thought of joining the happy revellers on the dance floor with the most handsome man there was far more appealing than it should be.

  When he offered the champagne to her a second time, she took it from him and brought the flute to her lips. The bubbles exploded in her mouth. ‘If you’re lying to me and I get a rollicking for skiving off, you can pay the bonus I’ll forfeit.’

  ‘You will not forfeit the bonus.’

  He sounded so confident in this assertion that Beth relaxed enough to laugh.

  Lines appeared on his handsome face as he grinned, the only imperfections on a face that could have been designed by a renaissance master. And the lines weren’t even imperfections, serving to enhance the gorgeous face she could not help herself from drinking in.

  He held his flute to hers.

  She chinked hers to it. In unison, they drank.

  Valente placed the empty flutes on the tray of a passing waiter then held his hand out to her. ‘Time to dance.’

  But still she hesitated.

  She wanted to dance with him. She wanted it more than she should. And that was the cause of her hesitation.

  What if he wanted more than just a dance?

  And why did that thought make her skin tingle as if a thousand electric ants were zipping through her veins?

  Through the years Beth had been asked to dance by countless numbers of men. Valente was the first man she had wanted to say yes to.

  She reminded herself about all the event staff she’d seen through the years involve themselves with rich clients or the client’s staff or guests. When alcohol flowed freely, inhibitions loosened and hedonistic pleasure became the aim. She would not be like the poor events staff she’d observed through the years fall for the practised patter, kidding themselves that the attention was anything more than an eye for the chance of a willing body for a night’s pleasure, discarded and forgotten when the sun came up.

  Beth had come to distrust rich, powerful men. In her experience, they were the worst for treating women as commodities.

  Domenico had been the only rich man she’d met who hadn’t treated women like that. He’d loved Caroline and had treated her with the utmost respect.

  But Domenico had forfeited his riches out of loathing for his rich, powerful family. He’d preferred to be poor and happy than rich and cruel like his brother, Alessio. His stories about what went on behind the closed doors of the rich and powerful had only hardened Beth’s distrust of the elite.

  Valente was not a rich man. The power he exuded was a figment of her imagination.

  The dance had finished, the guests pairing off again for the next one.

  ‘Enough stalling,’ he scolded. He took the matter out of her control by taking hold of her hand and marching her to the dance floor.

  ‘I really can’t dance,’ she warned, laughing, although unable to understand why she was laughing.

  What harm would one dance do? It wasn’t as if she were agreeing to marry him!

  He guided her to possibly the only empty space on the floor. ‘It is easy. I will teach you.’

  ‘You can dance?’

  ‘Si. Follow my lead and you will be fine.’ He bowed. ‘Now you must curtsey.’

  Laughing again, she curtsied then allowed him to take her right hand in his left.

  She took a quick peek at where the other women were placing their left hands and placed hers on Valente’s bicep. It was rock-hard.

  The laughter died in her throat when he slipped his right hand around her waist and pulled her to him. Her nose was level with his neck. The scent of his cologne coiled through her and something else, something like warm treacle, pooled low in her abdomen and with it came a flash of the dream she’d had of him, of them...

  Slowly she raised her head to meet his eyes. The amusement that had been in the emerald gaze just moments ago had died.

  After a long, silent beat passed between them, the faintest of smiles curved his lips. Her own lips tingled and she felt a sudden yearn to press them to his, a yearn that dissolved when the first note of the music rang out and suddenly she was being spun around the room in the most heavenly of arms.

  For such a tall, muscular man, Valente danced with an elegance that made her dazed mind think he’d done this many times. His assured grace and utter control allowed her to relax into the dance and, as he spun her around the great ballroom, weaving seamlessly between the other dancing couples, she imagined herself as a princess from days gone by waltzing in the arms of her very own Prince Charming.

  When the dance ended, Alessio kept tight hold of her. ‘One more,’ he murmured into her ear.

  The rays from her answering smile beamed straight into his loins.

  Impulse had driven him to ask her to
dance. He’d spent the evening observing her, the desire to have her in his arms growing with every passing minute.

  The compulsory ballroom dancing lessons he’d endured at his English boarding school were finally paying off.

  ‘Where did you learn to dance?’ she asked when they were on their third waltz, one set at a slower tempo.

  ‘As a child.’ Soon there would be no more need for evasion.

  Her head tilted as she studied him. ‘What is it you do for Giannis Basinas?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘None of the hotel staff have heard of you.’ There was no accusation in the beautiful chocolate eyes, just a soft curiosity.

  He pulled her a little closer. Their bodies were almost touching. She didn’t pull back. ‘Let’s just say I have known Giannis for many years.’

  ‘Is that all you will tell me?’

  ‘For now.’

  A spark flared in her eyes. Its brilliance flashed through him. ‘Intriguing.’

  He laughed but it was from discomfort rather than humour. Alessio knew this was the moment he should whisk her away somewhere private and tell her the truth, somewhere where they wouldn’t be overheard.

  Forget waiting until the morning. He had waited long enough. Beth had passed every test he’d given her.

  But he wanted to hold her in his arms for a few more dances first and savour the heady, erotic feeling flowing through his loins a little longer before the dilated softness flowing from her gaze turned into loathing.

  The loathing wouldn’t last long, he was sure. Beth was too practical to be dictated to by emotions.

  The dance ended without any further conversation, and the master of ceremonies took to the stage to announce that there would be a short break from the dancing for the fireworks display being held in the grounds.

  ‘Shall we?’ He held his arm out to her.

  She smiled, nodded and tucked her hand through it.

  They followed the crowd through the ground floor of the palace to the famed gardens. Alessio had only taken a few breaths of the warm night air when there was a tap on his shoulder.