* * *
“Why don’t you call him? He thinks you’re gorgeous,” Beatrice said with a smile, topping up her friend’s tea.
Aurora wrinkled her nose. “Alec’s nice.” She shrugged. “Maybe just a little too nice.”
Beatrice laughed. “What’s ‘too’ nice?”
“I’m not cut out for relationships, Bea. You know that. I’d chew someone like him up for breakfast.”
Beatrice levelled her best friend with a considering gaze. “We’re twenty four now, not nineteen. It’s not weird for you to admit that you might like a guy. Why are you so determined to stay footloose and fancy free?”
Aurora coloured. Out of nowhere, the image of Leonardo flashed into her mind. “I’m not determined to do any such thing. I just don’t think he and I would work, in a relationship.” She sipped her tea, not caring that it almost burnt her tongue. “I’d break his heart. He’s too nice for me. Too kind. Too thoughtful.” Too weak, she thought with a small sigh. Her most successful relationship had been with a man she daren’t think of again. A man who had overruled her with his strength, but had broken her heart because of his stubbornness. And she hadn’t seen him in over a month. Hadn’t heard so much as a peep from him since that morning they’d fallen into bed together and had steaming hot sex. And yet she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
But Beatrice was not easily dissuaded. “You’re nice. You’re sweet.”
Aurora rolled her eyes and leaned across the table, her expression beseeching. “Come on, Bea. You know me better than that. I’m so not nice. I’m practically a guy when it comes to dating. The quicker I can get out of a relationship the better. Don’t wish me on Alec. He deserves to meet someone a little more… domesticated.”
“Domesticated?” Beatrice laughed so hard that her mimosa spurted out of her mouth, coming dangerously close to drenching her pristine white Donna Karan pants. “This is the twenty first century. The closest thing Alec probably wants to a domesticated woman is one who’s prepared to be tied up with the cord of an iron.”
Aurora grinned despite her discomfort. “Look, I know you’re all loved up and so therefore want everyone you care about to fall into a state of equal romantic pleasure, but I’m not your girl. You know I don’t have any trouble meeting guys. Why don’t you just let me make my own way in the world?”
Beatrice tapped the tabletop with her fingertips. “Because your way sucks. You haven’t been with a guy in forever, and before that, you were dating anything that moved.” She shrugged. “You’re all over the place, and I know you’re not happy.”
“Not happy?” Aurora pulled a face, but inside, her heart was racing. Keeping a constant façade up around her best friend was exhausting at the best of times, but nevermore so than under one-on-one scrutiny such as this. “I have my dream job. I’m not responsible to anyone. I can do what I want, when I want to. Did it ever occur to you, Bea, that I’m happy not to have to apologise to some guy for staying out late? For wandering the National Gallery all day on a rainy Saturday just because it’s what I want to do?”
“When do you ever just wander around the National?” Beatrice asked sceptically.
“Last weekend!” Aurora let out a noise of frustration. “I’m happy for you and Pete. I really am. But stop trying to fix me up. And not with Alec. Not with anyone.”
Beatrice waved her fingers above her head, heralding a waiter. “Another mimosa, please.”
“Champagne,” Aurora muttered, getting increasingly impatient with her friend’s haranguing. “And even if I was interested in dating – which I’m not – why in God’s name would Alec be the man for me? “
“He’s a really great guy.”
“I’m sure he is!” Aurora nodded. “But he works in finance. I was a model, and now I’m a fashion blogger. I know everything there is to know about viscose rayon and dresses cut on the bias; I can tell you the eighteen shades Givenchy will be featuring at this year’s fashion week, but the closest thing I can tell you about Dow Jones is that he probably shouldn’t wear beige at his age.”
“You’re deliberately dumbing yourself down. You got a scholarship to one of the best schools in the country.”
Aurora scowled. “I am not dumbing myself down. Did you hear me? I know everything there is about viscose rayon! Come on, that’s a gift.” She smiled unevenly. “Just leave it, Bea. For once, just leave it. I’m your best friend, and all I want right now is to focus on your amazing wedding. This is the day of your dreams, so let’s just talk tulle and tulips and drink champagne until your parents get here.”
“And Leonardo,” she said with a nod. “And no tulips. Peter’s allergic.”
“What?” Aurora felt as though her ears were filled with singing birds; a high pitched noise signalling, perhaps, a fall from great altitude, was buzzing in her brain.
“I know, right? Who’s allergic to tulips? They’re possibly the most innocuous flower ever, but if they come within six feet of Peter he’s the one who needs inoculating. Lucky he’s cute.”
Aurora bit down on her lip. “No, I mean… I didn’t realise Leonardo is in town.” He was meant to be in Japan. There was some press event around the Grand Prix. She’d seen him on the news the night before, in the split second it had taken to realise it was switching to sport, when the remote had been out of reach.
“Yeah. Some meeting with his lawyer. He’s getting all big brotherly and wanting to be involved in the wedding planning. It’s strange, really.” She leaned forward, her eyebrows lifted. “Whatever happened between the two of you?”
“The two of us?” Aurora’s heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she thought a stampede of elephants might have been quieter. “There is no ‘two of us’.” Keeping the truth from everyone, even Beatrice, had been important to them. And somehow, despite their individual high profiles, they’d managed it. They’d told themselves it was because they didn’t see the point in rocking any boats until they knew they were serious. But now, Aurora couldn’t help but wonder if it hadn’t been a face saving measure for Leonardo. It didn’t matter, now. They were so over that their story needed to be shifted to an archival shed.
“Maybe I got it wrong. I mean, that night we celebrated our engagement, I thought I felt a wall of animosity from him to you. That’s not really like Leo. What’s the deal?”
Aurora’s stomach lurched. “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t approve of the champagne I was tipping into my mouth.”
As if on cue, the waiter returned with their drinks and placed a fizzing glass of bubbles before Aurora. She didn’t hesitate to lift it and taste its sweet nectar.
“Could have been. He’s such a prude with that stuff.”
Strangely, Aurora’s first instinct was to defend him, but it was the wrong instinct. So instead, she rolled her eyes. “Is he seeing anyone?” If she’d been prone to blushing, her cheeks would have glowed peach. “I just mean, in terms of the wedding.”
Beatrice shook her head. “The wedding’s still six months away. He’ll have gone through at least ten women by then. Not girlfriends, mind. Lovers. No,” she corrected. “He doesn’t even call them that. They’re simply names. Elaine. Carla. Esther. Marina. Nichole. You get the picture.”
Aurora, she silently tacked on. She had been just another name. Oh, not initially. The two years they’d dated had been as intense for Leo as they had been for her. But now? As a mature twenty four year old, she needed her head examined for having dropped down into bed for Leonardo.
“Listen, Bea, I don’t have to be here for this today.” She sipped her champagne and tapped her feet together beneath the table. “It’s a family affair. When was the last time you all got together and caught up?”
Beatrice reached across the table and put her hand over Aurora’s. “You’re like a sister to me. Mum and dad adore you. Even Leonardo cares about you, beneath that tough big brother exterior he projects. Why would you ever say you don’t feel welcome?”
Aurora shook her head.
“I’ve always felt welcomed by your lovely family. I just don’t want to intrude.”
“You could never intrude. This is my wedding! You and I have talked about this day since we were twelve years old, lying on the grass paddock, ditching science class. Remember? Oh, we were so sad!”
Aurora giggled. “But we thought we were so cool. I mean, ditching class was like a first grade ticket to rebel-ville. Ughhh. Excruciating.”
“Yeah, but look at you. You turned out to be a true A-lister.”
Aurora shook her head. “Not anymore.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “False modesty? Come on. It’s been years since you modelled but you’re still one of the most recognisable faces in the UK. So don’t pretend to be self-deprecating.”
“I’m not,” Aurora responded stiffly. “I assure you.” One of the principal reasons for giving up her lucrative modelling career had been to get out of the spotlight. Unfortunately, the only thing she was either passionate about or had an aptitude for was fashion. Blogging was a natural outlet for her time in the wake of her break up from Leonardo. And it had just so happened that her blog had resonated with an audience instantly. And that audience had grown, and grown, and grown.
“Darlings.” Rita Fontana was fifty three going on thirty one. She looked more like Beatrice’s contemporary than her mother, and Aurora thought it would only be another year or two and a few more procedures before Beatrice might resemble the older of the two. She arrived at the table in a cloud of Chanel No. 5, and air kissed first Aurora, and then Beatrice.
“I’m sorry we kept you,” she said with a lift of her slender shoulders. “Your father could not find his glasses and you know how gets about these things.” She grimaced. “God knows, I’ve told him to get his eyes done but he thinks the wire rimmed look makes him seem more intelligent.”
Aurora adored Beatrice’s parents. Eccentric, snobbish and slightly dense at times, they were still two of the most kind-hearted people she’d ever known. Occasionally, she glimpsed their eccentricities in Beatrice, though she was more like Leonardo, really. And he was more like his late father than his step-father or mother.
“That’s fine, mother. Believe it or not, but Aurora and I are quite capable of passing time together without you, father or Leo watching over us.”
“No need for sarcasm, darling,” Rita chided softly. “An apology felt necessary given that we were over thirty minutes behind the allotted time.”
“Thirty minutes?” Beatrice looked down at her slender gold wrist watch with a frown. When she looked back up, Leonard and Lucien were approaching the table. “Oh, shit,” she whispered under her breath. Game time.
If you enjoyed reading this sneak peak at LOVE IN THE FAST LANE, the full title is available to purchase at the Amazon store.
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Seduced by the Italian Tycoon: From the first moment they met, she was powerless to resist him Page 16
