“Since I was old enough to sit at the bench without falling over,” she replied, adding a glissando for flourish.
“That old.”
“My mother played. When I was little, I would watch her. Playing was a natural progression.”
He leaned forward, a curious look on his face. “I don’t suppose you sing, too?”
“Perhaps.” If only he knew. Both she and her brother had to study voice. One could hardly lead the people in the Corinthian anthem off-key. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. I was curious, is all. I have to close out the till. Would you mind playing a little longer? I think people are enjoying the concert.”
Arianna looked out at the waitstaff, some of whom were nodding their heads in time with the music as they worked. Even Javier looked to be tapping his foot. “But of course,” she said. It would be nice to leave them on a positive note after so many mishaps.
She played every song she could remember, an eclectic combination that ranged from Beethoven to Bocelli. Finally, there was but one song left that she could play from memory: “Tu Scendi dale Stelle,” a popular Italian carol her grandmother used to sing. She hadn’t meant to sing, but the words came out automatically.
In a flash, her head filled with memories of home. Of making candied fruit for Babbo Natale and pastries for Christmas Eve and how the whole country seemed to smell of evergreen and wine. So many traditions and she loved them all. She was Corinthian to the core.
Her heart jumped to her throat, choking off the words. She couldn’t go on. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stepped off the stage.
Max came out of his office as she was rushing toward the coatroom. “Is everything all right?”
She couldn’t answer; the lump was still stuck in her throat. Brushing past him, she kept going until she was safely shut in with the coats and hangers. There she squeezed her eyes tight.
This was ridiculous. Getting emotional over a Christmas song. So what if the words reminded her of home? It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t be returning to Corinthia again.
Although if she chose not to marry Manolo, she would lose the country’s respect, and that was as bad as never going home at all.
Footsteps sounded behind her. “Arianna? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” she told him, sniffing. “I felt a little homesick for a moment, that’s all.”
“Homesick, huh? Maybe this will help.”
Out of nowhere, a handkerchief appeared before her. It was such an old-fashioned, chivalrous gesture that she couldn’t help smiling as she dabbed at her eyes. The square smelled faintly of aftershave. Woody and masculine. Without thinking about what she was doing, she pressed the cloth to her nose and inhaled the scent. “Are you always this prepared?”
“If you’re asking whether or not I’m a Boy Scout, absolutely not. I’ve just learned to keep a handkerchief on hand in case I run in to emotional women.”
“Do you run in to them often?”
“More often than you’d think, unfortunately”
And what would they be crying for? she wondered. Because he had broken their hearts? It certainly wouldn’t surprise her if those slate-colored eyes left a whole trail of women in their wake. Manolo had his assortment of conquests, did he not? And he wasn’t nearly as handsome. Or, as gallant.
That gallantry was on full display as he took her coat from the hanger and held it for her to put on. “Where is home exactly?” he asked. “I mean, where in Italy? You are Italian, right? Tell me that much is true.”
Arianna paused to enjoy the way his hands settled on her shoulders, the touch providing a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. It would be easy enough to say yes and end the speculation. For some reason, though, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him again. “Close.”
“Close?”
“I’m from a small island country off the coast. I doubt you’ve ever heard of it.”
“Probably not,” he replied, brushing her shoulders again. “I always sucked at world geography. If a place isn’t on one of the six continents, forget it.”
“Seven,” she said, smiling over her shoulder. She liked how he knew not to ask any more questions.
The grin she got in response made her forget all about homesickness. “Antarctica doesn’t deserve full billing, if you ask me. Come on. Let me get my coat, and I’ll take you home.”
“You know, you really don’t have to...” She followed him back into the dining room and into the darkly paneled room that passed as his office. “I will be fine on my own.”
“Are you still staying at the Dunphy?” She nodded. “Then, yes, I do need to escort you. Besides, you and I need to talk about your future.”
Which future was that, she was tempted to ask. Because she still hadn’t figured out an answer. “I did not think I had a future here,” she said instead.
“Did I say that?”
“You said you didn’t have time to train me.”
“As a waitress, I don’t,” he said, reaching behind the door for his overcoat. “But you clearly don’t need training to play piano.”
Arianna’s pulse quickened. “Are you suggesting I play the piano? Here?”
“No, at Carnegie Hall. Of course I mean here. It’s the perfect solution, really. Every good movie nightclub has a chanteuse.”
“A what?”
“A sultry lounge singer. My former one, she was unable to fulfill her contract. I planned to hire someone new after the holidays. Now, I don’t have to. You’re perfect for the job.”
No, she wasn’t perfect. Playing piano meant being in the spotlight. Far different from waiting tables or passing out menus, jobs where she had limited interaction with people and if someone recognized her, she could easily claim coincidence.
“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.” She looked away rather than meet his eye.
Several beats of quiet followed, where the only sound in the room was that of him shrugging into his coat. Arianna prayed his silence was because he’d decided to accept her answer without asking for a reason.
“I had a feeling that would be your answer,” he said after a moment.
“You did?”
“Like I told you before, I’m not an idiot. Anyone with half a brain can tell you don’t want to be recognized.”
She should have realized her crude efforts at disguise wouldn’t make it past a man as sharp as Max. “How did you figure it out?”
“Honey, I knew the minute you walked through the door. The cashmere coat and do-it-yourself haircut were dead giveaways.
“Don’t worry,” he added, as her hand flew to her neck. “It looks better pulled up. Makes the haircut look less obvious.”
“Here I thought I was being clever.”
“You didn’t do that bad a job.”
“I could not have done a very good one either if I didn’t fool you.”
“Only because I’ve seen more than most people.”
Like what? What made him different than everyone else?
Because he was different, in so many ways.
Once more, his hands found their way to her shoulders. Despondent as she was, warmth still managed to travel down her arms. Like metal to a magnet, she felt herself leaning against him.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t know what your story is, but if you’re in some kind of trouble...”
Arianna sucked in her breath. Max’s breath warming her temple made it difficult to think too clearly, but one message managed to make it through the fog, and that was that he didn’t recognize her. He only recognized a woman in hiding.
She relaxed farther into him. “Thank you.”
“I’m serious, Arianna. If I can help... If someone is trying to hurt you...
”
“No.” She whipped around so they were eye to eye. “That is not the case at all!”
“Really?” He looked skeptical.
“Yes, I promise. I never meant to make you think I was in danger.” No wonder he had been so patient with her. “You’re right, I don’t want to be found, but I’m not in trouble. Not that kind of trouble,” she said with emphasis. “I just needed a few weeks by myself, to sort out a few things.”
“And you needed to change your appearance to do this?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Most things are.” There was a pause as he contemplated what to say. “You know, if you need someone to talk to—”
“Thank you, but this is something I need to handle on my own.”
“Okay.” Finally, he appeared to let the topic drop. For now at least. “How about we get going then?”
Ever since Max had walked out of his office that first day, Arianna had wondered if, when removed from the vintage surroundings, he would still look like a movie star. He did. The atmosphere followed him. Standing on the sidewalk, she shivered appreciatively as tendrils of frosty air curled from his lips like cigarette smoke. With barely a raise of his hand, he signaled a passing taxicab.
“I know it’s not that far a walk, but I’d rather ride if you don’t mind.”
He wouldn’t get an argument from her. Not tonight. The temperature had to be twenty degrees colder than the night before.
A gust of hot air greeted her legs as Arianna slid across the seat. The heat felt so good, she immediately kicked off her heels and wriggled her toes in front of the floor vent. She’d thought she was prepared for late November in New York, but apparently not. Max’s coat, chilled from their short time in the cold, brushed her legs, each feathery touch leaving a trail of goose bumps.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess it doesn’t get cold on your island,” he remarked.
“Not this cold, no.”
“Well, hopefully whatever it is you need to sort out won’t take too long, and you’ll be back to warm weather.”
“I was under the impression we weren’t going to talk about it anymore.”
“Did we say that?” he asked, his grin lighting the darkness. Whether or not he could see her expression, Arianna frowned anyway. “Fine,” he said. His coat brushed her leg again as he settled back into the seat. “We’ll drop the subject. After I say one more thing...”
Before she could argue, he held up a hand. “You would have made a far better chanteuse than Shirley ever was.”
Maybe sitting in the darkness was a good thing since it kept him from seeing how pink she blushed over the compliment. “Thank you.” Then, because her conscience twinged over saying no, she added, “I’m sorry you needed to find a replacement.”
“So am I,” he said, his sigh heavy with regret. “But as Darius loves to tell me, you can’t save the world.”
“What happened to her? If it is all right for me to ask.”
“She got arrested trying to sell drugs in Washington Square Park.”
“That’s awful.” When Max said the woman couldn’t fulfill her contract, she assumed there’d been some type of dispute or perhaps an illness. But drugs? Was that what he meant by being unable to save the world?
“I really thought she had her demons beat, too,” he replied, “but her boyfriend must have dragged her back in.”
“Perhaps now that she has been arrested, she will get some help.”
“Maybe. At least she’ll be away from her crackhead boyfriend. Then again,” he said with a sigh, “who knows? Maybe she’ll get out and go right back to him.”
She could hear in his voice how heavily the failure weighed on him. Arianna wished she could ease his frustration. “At least you tried to help her,” she offered. “There’s that.”
“Would have been better if I’d succeeded.” He shifted in his seat again, and while his voice sounded far away, every move brought his body closer. “For the life of me,” he continued, “I’ll never understand why women insist on staying with losers when they know it’ll kill them.”
“People do foolish things when they’re in love.” Or think they are.
“Suppose so,” he replied, his voice oddly flat. “All the more reason to avoid ever falling in love in the first place. All it does is cause trouble.”
As good an argument as any. Perhaps, then, marriage to Manolo wouldn’t be as awful as she thought. Since she didn’t love him, his infidelity and duplicitousness wouldn’t break her heart.
“Sounds like a lonely way to go through life,” she said out loud.
“You say lonely, I say smart.”
“You make it sound like love affairs never end happily.”
“Have you seen one that ended well?”
“My parents were happy. And my brother and his wife. Very much so.” Father’s face would light up like the sun whenever Mama walked into a room.
“You said were.”
“My mother and sister-in-law have both passed away.”
“So they didn’t end well.”
No, they had not. Both men still mourned their losses deeply. Both of them spent their days cloaked in sadness. In fact, the only time she could remember Father showing any type of true joy was when she began dating Manolo.
Her insides suddenly felt hollow. Settling back into the shadows, Arianna trained her attention on the world passing outside her window. Times Square, normally bright and colorful, was extra festive thanks to the giant holiday billboards and white lights. Seeing such merriness cheered her slightly. “Everything looks prettier at Christmas,” she said.
“Wait until they light the tree later this week,” Max said as they were passing Rockefeller Center. “That’s when the decorations really kick into high gear.”
The famous tree stood like a towering shadow amid the brightness. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ve seen photographs, but never the real thing. The one we have at home isn’t quite as tall.”
“Not too many trees are, unless you live in a mansion.”
Or a palace. Arianna bit her lip. “Do you decorate the Fox Club?” Considering how much attention he’d paid to period details, she was curious as to what the place would look like for Christmas.
“Are you kidding? The staff would have my head if we didn’t. Day after they light the big one, we light our own tree. Make a party out of it.”
“Sounds nice.”
He shrugged. “Personally, I’d prefer a professional decorator, but they have fun.”
“I always loved decorating the Christmas tree.” When she was little, her parents would have a separate tree in their suite to celebrate the family’s private Christmas. The four of them always decorated it themselves, even Father, who insisted he was the only one who could properly align the star on top. This year, her father and Armando would decorate it without her.
And what of Christmas in the future? Would her child’s Christmas be filled with love and excitement? Would they be sharing traditions with a man who did not love them, or would they be decorating alone?
“Hey, everything all right?” Max asked.
Arianna blinked back the moisture from her eyes. Goodness, but she was a seesaw of emotions today. Max placed his hand, solid and sure, on her arm. She suddenly wanted to curl even closer, with his arm wrapped tight about her shoulders. What was it about him that his simple presence improved her spirits? “I was feeling nostalgic again, that’s all.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot tonight.”
“The decorations bring back a lot of memories. Doesn’t that ever happen to you during the holidays?”
“Thankfully, no. I’m much too busy focusing on the present to worry about those days.”
Thankfully? This was supposed to be
a happier subject. Did he not want to remember? Stealing a look at his profile, Arianna tried to picture him as a child, imagining him as a smaller, younger version of the man she saw now.
“Christmas was always a special time for my family,” she told him. “When I was a very little girl, my brother, Armando, and I would stay up late on Christmas Eve, hoping to catch Babbo Natale.”
“Babbo Natale?”
“Our version of Santa Claus.” One of the many traditions Corinthia shared with its Italian neighbor. “Armando and I would watch out for him every Christmas Eve. I was determined to catch him in the act.” The two of them would tuck themselves under blankets near the fireplace, flashlights in hand for when he made his appearance.
“Did you? Ever catch him, that is?” Max asked.
“Never,” she said with a smile. “No matter how late we managed to stay awake, we always fell asleep before he arrived.”
“Sneaky guy.”
“What about you?” she asked, curious. She hadn’t forgotten his thankfully comment from a moment earlier. “Did you ever wait up for Santa?”
“Santa was kind of hit-or-miss in our house. Is that your hotel?”
He pointed ahead to where a pair of police cars were parked, their blue lights flashing, and any follow-up questions Arianna might have had regarding his comment took a backseat. “Why are the police here?”
“Good question. Wait here and I’ll find out.”
She was too curious to wait. When Max opened the door, she climbed out after him. “I am the one staying here,” she said when he shot her a look.
A policeman stood guard at the front door, his heavy blue coat seeming to swallow him whole. When he saw them approaching, he stepped into their path. “Sorry,” he said, his breath heavy with the smells of coffee and cigarettes, “but you can’t go in.”
“But I’m staying here,” Arianna replied. “Can’t I go up to my room?”
The officer looked them both up and down. “You are?” She wasn’t sure what was more incredulous, his voice or his expression. “You might want to find a different hotel.”
Christmas Baby for the Princess Page 4
