by Dani Collins
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Ariana said. ‘Has Mia RSVP’d yet?’
He knew, even before she asked, that Nicki must have asked her the same question ‘Because, if she doesn’t come then there’ll be a space.’
‘Ariana.’ It was the first time they had crossed to anything remotely personal. ‘I told both you and Dante that you are to leave Mia to me.’
‘Yes, but if she isn’t even coming...’
‘You cannot give Mia’s place to...’ to one of your freeloaders, he was tempted to add, but refrained and reminded himself that this was a business discussion. In truth, if the Romanos wanted a flock of geese seated at the head table then it was his job to accommodate it. He took a breath. Where Ariana was concerned, it was almost impossible to draw the line and differentiate between personal and professional. ‘However,’ Gian said, ‘if you want Nicki at the top table so desperately then she can have my seat.’
‘But where would you sit?’ Ariana asked, loathing the thought of him not being next to her. Gian was always seated by her side at the Romano Ball, but now it seemed like he was willing to break that tradition.
‘In the seat to which she is currently assigned. I’ll be working the room anyway. Nicki can have my seat, if that is what you want.’
‘No, no,’ Ariana rapidly broke in, blushing as she declined his cold and practical solution to salvage her seat beside Gian. ‘Just leave it as it is.’
‘Very well,’ Gian clipped. ‘Anything else?’
‘I don’t think so. Should there be?’
‘No.’ Gian was assured. ‘Everything is under control.’
Except himself, but he was working on that, determined to erase that forbidden morning from his thoughts.
He did not need the complication of Ariana Romano in his life, he insisted to himself. He just had to get past the ball.
It wasn’t just Ariana that was worrying him, though.
Trouble loomed in another Romano direction...
* * *
‘Dante!’ Gian shook his friend’s hand and invited him to take a seat when he arrived unannounced the day before the ball. ‘I just spoke with Ariana this morning...’
‘I hear it’s all under control.’
‘She’s done very well,’ Gian agreed. ‘I expect the ball to be a huge success. Your sister has an eye for detail—’
‘Has Mia responded?’ Dante cut in.
‘Not as yet,’ Gian said. ‘As I said to Ariana, even if she arrives unannounced, she will be greeted as if she had always been expected and made to feel most welcome.’
‘Well, if that’s the case, could you ensure she gets this gift just before she heads down to the ball?’ He handed Gian a black velvet box and envelope. ‘I thought it better to take care of the hostess gift myself, rather than leave it to Ariana.’ He gave a black laugh. ‘Or it would be a doll full of pins...’
Dante was his close friend, yet Gian found himself smiling his on-duty smile. ‘Of course. I’ll see to it personally.’
‘And perhaps it would be best not to upset Ariana with such details...’
‘Naturalmente,’ Gian said.
Damn, he thought.
* * *
By and by, the Romano Ball loomed ever closer.
Gian wanted the ball over and done with; he wanted Ariana gone, instead of her voice, her emails, her thoughts all dancing in his mind.
He wanted his life back to neat order, with sex when he required it and no silent demands for a future.
Gian could feel how much she wanted him, which was usually a turn-off.
He found, though, that he liked it that she craved him and yet kept herself under control. He did his best to ignore it as another damned message pinged into his box, with an attachment.
And there, smiling at him, was his friend Rafael.
It was a slight shock.
Unexpected.
He stared back at Rafael and silently swore that he would stay the hell away from hurting his daughter.
* * *
Ariana. Yes, the photo you found of Rafael on Ponte Vecchio was most suitable. Kind regards, Gian
Ariana scoured in between the lines for even the slightest sign, the tiniest clue, that he might linger there in the memory of them, but there was not a single needle she could glean in the haystack.
There were no veiled clues or promises.
His briefly open heart had, it would seem, ever so politely, closed.
* * *
By and by, a silver car pulled up outside La Fiordelise in the late afternoon on the day of the Romano Foundation Ball.
And trouble loomed large.
‘Ariana Romano is here,’ Luna informed him. ‘You wanted to see her when she arrived.’
‘Yes.’
‘Shall I send her through?’
‘Of course.’
‘Gian!’
She smiled her red-lipped smile and for someone running later than the Mad Hatter, she still looked pretty incredible in a loose top that showed one shoulder and a skirt that showed a lot of leg.
Gian, though, did not look his usual self.
‘You look...’ she started, but then stopped. It was none of her business that the immaculate Gian was unshaven and that his tie was pulled loose. No doubt he was saving his shave for the evening, but the unrufflable Gian looked, well, ruffled.
She wanted to hold him, to climb onto his knee and kiss that tense face, but instead she stood stock still.
‘Ariana...’ He got up and they did the kiss-kiss thing.
‘Careful,’ she warned, so he didn’t crush the orchids. ‘Damn things,’ she added as he re-took his seat but Ariana did not sit down. ‘Who knew flowers could cause so much trouble. Roberto is sick and can’t come,’ Ariana explained, nerves making her mouth run away. ‘And these were the orchids he was supposed to bring...’ She held up her free hand in an exasperated gesture. ‘I’ve been standing on a platform at Roma Termini, waiting for a courier to deliver them.’
‘It’s fine.’ He tried not to want her; he tried to treat her as he once would have. ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘I don’t have time for a drink,’ Ariana pointed out. ‘I have to be greeting guests in a couple of hours. What did you want to see me about?’
He was silent for a moment as he poured his own drink while wondering how best to broach things. ‘Mia is here.’
‘So?’ Ariana shrugged and turned to go. ‘What do I care? There was no need to drag me to your office. You could have told me that in a text.’
‘Yes.’ He watched the tension in her jaw and the press of her lips and knew she was struggling to process the news. Aside from that, there was also a whole lot more she didn’t know.
Dante and Mia had the adjoining presidential suites.
And Dante had the key.
Yes, Gian De Luca was the keeper of many secrets and at times it was hell. ‘I want to speak to you,’ he said. ‘About tonight.’
‘You’re going to tell me to behave and be nice. Don’t worry. I’ve already had the lecture from Dante. Poor Mia is struggling to face us all tonight. Poor Mia—’
‘Ariana!’ He spoke more harshly then, but that was like holding up a red rag to a bull, Gian knew, for nothing tamed her. ‘Do you remember how you felt at your father’s funeral, as if everything might get out of hand? Well, Mia is surely feeling that way...’
‘Poor Mia, you mean.’ She looked at him then, really looked, and she could see the fan of lines beside his eyes and feel his tension. She assumed he was concerned about Mia; it never entered her head that his concern might be for her. ‘Why do you always take her side?’ Ariana asked, jealousy rearing its ugly head. ‘Don’t tell me you have a thing for her too...’ She simply could not bear it if that was the case, and spite got the better of her. ‘Well, I guess at least
she’s closer to your age than Papà’s.’
‘Enough!’ Gian cut in. ‘Why do you have to be so petty and cruel whenever you speak about her?’
‘Because I hate her.’ Ariana shrugged. ‘And I hate it that my parents divorced. I’ll never forgive her.’
‘You forgave your father when it was he who had the affair. Mia, at the time, was single.’
‘Stop it,’ Ariana said, loathing his logic. ‘And please stop telling me what to think and how to feel. We slept with each other once—that doesn’t give you licence to police my friends and now how I interact with my family.’
‘You’re insufferable, Ariana.’ He strode over and took her bare arms. He wanted to shake some sense into her, but even as he scolded her Gian actually understood her anger more than she knew.
Ariana was only ever given half-truths.
Or a quarter.
Or an eighth.
The Romanos were masters at smoke and mirrors and Ariana had grown up stumbling blind through their labyrinth of lies, and he loathed it that he was only giving her a tiny sliver of the truth now.
‘I’m trying...’ He held on to his words, because if he said one thing more it might well be too much. ‘I’m trying to ensure that this night goes well.’
‘Have you delivered Mia this pre-function lecture?’ Ariana goaded. ‘Have Stefano and Dante been summoned too? No!’ She answered for him. ‘Because you don’t trust me.’
‘No, because I—’ Gian abruptly halted himself, because he didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he cared about Ariana more than he wanted to. ‘Because I know how you feel about Mia, and I also know that you want the night to be a success.’
‘Then we want the same thing,’ Ariana replied tartly.
They did indeed want the same thing and now they were face to face in no way that could be construed as professional.
She looked up at him through narrowed eyes. She wanted to exit in a huff, but his hands were on her bare arms and she liked the odd comfort of him, of someone, the first person ever, pulling her back before she went too far.
They were both breathing hard, as if they had just kissed.
Ariana looked at his mouth and unshaven jaw and felt his fingers holding the top of her arms. He turned her on so easily that she could feel the heat at the top of her legs, and the ache of her breasts in her flimsy bra. She knew he was hard, she just knew, the same way she did not need to look at the sky to know it was darkening.
‘Ariana,’ Gian said in a voice that sounded a touch gravelly, ‘if there are any issues tonight, then you are to come to me.’
She always did, Ariana realised.
Whether it was stolen chocolate, or her father’s widow showing up, she always leaned on Gian, yet she could not when it came to the urgent matter of her heart, for he was the one who was quietly stealing it.
‘I need to get on,’ Ariana croaked.
‘Of course,’ Gian politely agreed.
‘And you need to shave.’
When she had gone, Gian opened up the safe and took out the black box and envelope.
He would not break his own rules and deliberately did not look inside.
He would go and get ready and then drop off the gift to Mia, and then get through this night and once that was done, hopefully he wouldn’t have to see Ariana for some considerable time.
Except that was easier said than done. First he had to dance with her and hold her and for the first time ever he found he wanted someone in his life.
And so he reminded himself of all the reasons why he did not want someone in his life.
When he should have been meeting with the barber in his apartment and then seeing to the final preparations for this important night, instead he took out the official papers he did his level best to avoid.
It was all there.
The drugs, the debauchery, the findings... The absolute hell of love.
For he had loved them.
Even if his parents had not wanted him.
And he had loved his brother Eduardo, even if it had been safer to stop caring, to detach and close off his heart.
To refuse all drama.
And Ariana really was pure drama.
* * *
‘Gian?’ Luna knocked on his door a long time later and found him sitting almost in the dark. ‘Should you still be here?’
‘No,’ he admitted, and stood. ‘Luna,’ he said, ‘can you...?’ He was about to hand over the papers to shred. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Gian said, and returned them to the safe in case he ever needed another reminder of why he refused to let someone into his life.
And, by and by, the Romano Foundation Ball was here.
CHAPTER TEN
ARIANA WORE BLACK.
A simple black velvet halter neck and the diamond studs her parents had given her for her eighteenth.
She put on her red lips, though, and lashings of mascara. There was a ridiculous pit of anticipation building at the thought of dancing with Gian, for she was still floating from the encounter in his office and getting her hopes up as she made her way down for the ball.
His warning, however poorly she’d taken it, meant that Ariana was at least slightly prepared when her father’s widow made her entrance. And what an entrance. Mia was standing at the top of the stairs in crimson! Her blonde hair was piled up, and heavy diamond earrings glittered at her ears as she made her way down. Ariana saw red—as red as the dress that Mia wore.
‘So much for the grieving widow,’ she hissed to Dante.
She was, in fact, grateful to Gian for the heads-up and even managed a somewhat stilted greeting to the widow in red, but then all rancour drained from her when she saw Gian approach.
He was still unshaven, but sexily so.
His attire was immaculate and his black hair gleaming but it was such a change from his more regular suave appearance at such an event that she felt a pull, down low. He simply hollowed her out with desire.
‘Eloa,’ he said in that low, throaty drawl. Even the happily engaged, blissfully-in-love Eloa had the hormones to blush when bathed in his attention. ‘You look exquisite.’ He kissed her cheeks and then shook Stefano’s hand. ‘Dante.’ He nodded to his friend. ‘I trust everything is satisfactory.’
‘Absolutely.’ Dante agreed.
He turned to Ariana, finally acknowledging her. Sort of. His eyes did not as much as dust over her body, and she felt the chill of a snub, even as he spoke politely. ‘Ariana, you look beautiful.’
They were the same words he said every year when he greeted her at the ball, and he kissed her on the cheeks as he always did when they met, except he barely whispered past her skin.
As if she were an old aunt, Ariana thought.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Everything looks beautiful.’ And then she leaned in and murmured, ‘Even the grieving widow.’
He didn’t smile, and neither did he return her little in joke.
There was an edge to him that she couldn’t quite define, an off-limits sign she could almost read. He was essentially ignoring her.
Damn you, Gian, she thought as she headed into the ballroom. But really she was cross with herself. Somewhere, somehow, she had lost sight of the clear message he had given right at the start and had been foolish enough to get her hopes up.
The ballroom could never be described as understated, but without hanging moons and ivy vines tonight it looked its elegant best, and Ariana caught the sweet scent of gardenias as she took her seat. Mia entered and took her seat at the table too, Gian sitting between them. He was, of course, his usual dignified self and made polite small talk alternately with both Mia and Ariana.
Like a parent wedged between two warring siblings and trying to give both equal attention, Ariana thought.
‘I shouldn’t have worn red,’ Mia said as the p
asta was served. ‘It was the gown I had for last year...’
‘You look stunning,’ Gian told her—again. And Ariana gritted her teeth.
Gian tried his level best to be his usual self, as Ariana smouldered beside him. The drama of waiting for her to explode was painful, but he told himself she was not his problem. He told himself that the Romanos, the whole lot of them, were each a theatre production in themselves.
The bed-hopping, the scandals—Dante and Mia doing their best not to make eye contact. He was rather certain that the heavy earrings she wore had been in the box that he had earlier delivered to her door. Rafael’s lover was too ill to attend but his orchids took pride of place. Eloa and Stefano were desperate for the night to be over so they could be alone.
And don’t get me started on Ariana, he thought.
He could feel her, smell her, hear her when she spoke, and of course she was asking for more pepper.
She jangled his nerves and she beguiled him, because for once she behaved.
Almost.
She turned her back when Mia tried to speak, which he did his level best to ignore and gloss over.
And then the appalling Nicki came over between courses and moaned about her seat. ‘Ariana, you really have stuck me beside the most boring people and I’ll never hear the speeches back there.’
Gian stared ahead, but said in a low voice for Ariana’s ears, ‘My offer still stands.’
He would move, Ariana knew. Right now, Gian would get up and stalk off and it was the last thing she wanted. She looked at her friend and, for the first time ever, stood up for herself. ‘Nicki, the sound engineer is the best in Rome. I’m sure you’ll be able to hear.’
Well done, he wanted to tell her. Well done, Ariana.
But he stayed silent. It was not his place.
Yet he wanted it to be.
There was just one unkind comment, as dessert was being served, when Eloa spoke of her wedding that was now just a few short weeks away. She told Mia, ‘Ariana is helping us organise a few things,’ clearly trying to feed her into the conversation.
‘Yes.’ Ariana flashed a red-lipped smile at Mia. ‘It’s going to be amazing. Anyone who’s anyone has been invited...’
