God alone knew, though, it was his main problem!
Dante badly wanted Mia to come to the Romano ball so he would have the chance to see her again and hopefully...
Yet Mia still hadn’t responded.
‘Right, I’m off,’ Sarah said.
‘It’s only three!’
‘Dante!’
Oh, yes, his Christmas present for Sarah had been a long weekend for her and her husband at La Fiordelise and she’d chosen to take it this coming weekend.
‘Fine.’ Dante sulked.
Everyone was at it.
Everyone except him, since Mia.
Dante could not get her out of his head and the thought of being with anyone else had lost its usual appeal.
He set off his Newton’s cradle, and watched the silver balls clack, clack, clack as his own ached.
Ms Prim would disapprove of that, Dante thought, and then the memory of her uptight expressions made him smile.
But the smile was wiped from his face when he thought of her working for Castello.
When Sarah had gone, Dante reached for his phone, but instead of calling Castello it was Mia’s number he pulled up. It had been a couple of weeks since their last, brief conversation and she answered promptly. ‘Mia speaking.’
‘Mia, it’s Dante.’ He felt the tense silence for a moment before continuing. ‘I’ve been asked by Castello to provide a reference for you. Is this some sort of joke?’
‘Why would it be a joke?’ Mia responded tartly. She had been caught off guard, and had answered the phone without looking, hoping it was news about her job. That it was Dante calling had sideswiped her, but she reminded herself she was no longer Rafael’s wife, no longer playing a part. ‘I do have to work.’
‘Perhaps, but does it have to be for our rival?’
‘Hardly a rival. The Romanos are a hundred times bigger. If you must know, I’ve applied for several jobs.’
Dante sat there, his lips pressed together as another side to Mia was revealed to him. When married to his father she had been rather quiet and, though her presence had sat in the forefront of his mind, she had remained in the background, saying little.
That wasn’t so much the case now, Dante thought as she continued.
‘While your father gave me an excellent reference, given we were married, it doesn’t carry the weight it should, and the woman I worked under in London has left.’ Not that Mia had been much good at that time. ‘I didn’t actually put your name down.’ She gave a slightly shrill laugh as if to say, Perish that thought. ‘Look, if it’s going to be an issue I’ll pull out of the application.’
‘No, no,’ Dante said, and blew out a breath. ‘Mia, the man’s a sleaze, though.’
‘He seemed perfectly polite.’
‘Trust me on this.’
Mia didn’t answer.
The truth was, despite her brusque, matter-of-fact voice, Mia was sitting in her little lounge with silent tears streaming down her cheeks at the impossibility of it all. It wasn’t even the prospect of telling him about the baby that overwhelmed her; she still hadn’t decided if she would or, if she did, how or when.
No, it was hearing his voice as she tried to haul herself out of the vortex of Dante that had her silently weeping—wanting him so, and not just his exquisite touch but more of him, all of him; the sudden smile he gave to others, which he had but once given to her; the passion and energy of him, a man who, despite their rows, never made her feel unsafe, even on the edge of unleashed passion.
‘Mia?’ he said to the silence.
‘I have to go.’
‘Before you do, there is one other thing...’ His husky tone warned her about the danger of the subject matter. ‘You haven’t RSVP’d about the ball...’
‘No.’ Mia croaked.
‘Well?’ he said, and his voice had a thick edge to it. ‘Are you coming?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. She Did Not Know. It wasn’t just that she was pregnant that mired her, more it was the craving to see him. Tears were streaming down her face and she had to force an affronted tone even as she dreamed of his kiss. ‘Why would I put myself in that snake pit?’
‘For the sick children, perhaps?’
‘Dante!’ She actually gave a soft laugh at the glimmer of humour, because they both knew the ball would be a success with or without her there, but that tiny joke had her tummy flip for it told Mia that he wanted her to come, and he did, for he then moved in to persuade her.
‘My mother won’t be there.’
‘I’m not worried about your mother, Dante.’
‘If you need a gown—’
‘I already have a gown. I couldn’t attend last year, remember?’
Oh, he remembered.
Because, though his father had been too ill to attend, which had been a cause for concern, for Dante there had been a sigh of relief that he would not have to see Mia in finery and on his father’s arm. ‘Roberto would escort you to your table and I can assure you there shall be no animosity. I will have a word with Ariana...’
‘Dante, she’s the least of my concerns.’
‘Okay.’ Dante took a breath and attempted to address the elephant in the room. ‘Well, if you’re worried that there might be a repeat—’ He halted, because right now he should be promising Mia that there would be no repeat of their forbidden night; he should be assuring her that it had been a mistake and would never happen again. Yet Dante never lied. ‘Mia—’ his voice was back to controlled and brisk ‘—I shall leave it up to you. Naturally there will be a suite reserved for you. If you choose to attend you just have to call Sarah, and she will arrange your flights.’
But he could not leave it there. ‘Are you sure everything’s okay, Mia?’
She was quite positive that he wasn’t asking how she was holding up after the death of Rafael. He was asking again if there had been any fallout from that night.
Mia took a breath to consider her response and knew she was simply not ready to tell him yet. She was just starting to get her own head around things, and certainly she did not want to tell him over the phone. ‘I’m fine.’ And it wasn’t a lie; she felt better about things today than she had since she’d found out, and did not want to disturb that fragile ground.
‘That’s good,’ Dante said, except when the call had ended he was left unsure about whether he believed her.
Dante told himself he had no reason to be concerned. Mia had surely taken the emergency contraception.
Yet, despite her assurance, he had heard her brief hesitation prior to answering him and Dante had been left with that feeling he knew only too well: that he was being lied to.
No!
For once Dante tried to quash his eternally suspicious nature and believe the words that had been said. After all, Mia had not contested the will. In fact, she had left Luctano when she could have stayed on for three months. There had been no interviews given to the press, no demands made. If there were consequences to that night, he was more than certain either he or his legal team would have been informed by now.
Perhaps it was time to start trusting her?
And, if he did, then why couldn’t they be together one more time? Discreetly, of course.
Yes, Dante wanted Mia to come to the ball.
They were a fire that needed to be put out for, by ignoring the sparks, a real burn had started to take hold.
CHAPTER SEVEN
OF COURSE MIA had no idea that she was about to get the full Dante Romano treatment.
Even as the plane landed at Rome’s Fiumicino Airport, Mia did not know if she was right to be here. She had been so unsure, right up to the last minute, whether she would attend the ball that she’d decided against calling Sarah to arrange tickets and had taken the precaution of booking her own. She arrived in Rome somewhat frazzled after her budget
flight, and nervous about facing Dante and, despite her brave words, facing the rest of his family too.
Certainly, she was not sure if she was ready tell Dante about the baby. And though she had been spared morning sickness, on arrival in Rome Mia felt drained and nauseous, both from flying and from nerves. She wore a lavender shift dress that she hadn’t worn in ages, but it was both loose and smart enough, teamed with her stilettos, for her arrival at the hotel. She added a slick of lipstick before heading out to the waiting taxis, her decision made.
If Dante was back to treating her with that slight disdain and certain contempt then, no, she would not be sharing her news. That was the best way she could both describe and justify it to herself—right now, while she wasn’t visibly pregnant, it was her secret to keep and to reveal when she so chose.
Despite her nerves as she took a taxi to La Fiordelise, the hotel where the function was being held, she could not help but smile. Mia hadn’t been in Rome for a very long time. With Rafael’s deteriorating health, they had mainly been tucked away in Luctano. Rome in spring was amazing indeed, and less crowded than when she’d been there a couple of summers ago. The sight of wisteria cascading like a lilac waterfall down the walls of ancient ruins was beautiful indeed and had her craning her neck in the back of the taxi that took her to her hotel.
Mia would have loved to explore, but there simply wasn’t time. She had left it too late to get a hair appointment—it would seem that all were booked out on this day—and her make-up she would do herself. There was also an appointment to be had with a razor!
The taxi pulled up outside a most gorgeous white marble building, which was to be her home for the night.
‘Signora Romano!’ The doorman greeted her as he opened the taxi door and Mia was startled that he knew her name, but then surmised that the staff would have been heavily briefed on the guests for the ball, and she was, after all, Rafael’s widow.
Once inside the hotel she saw the opulent surroundings, with deep red carpets and vast marble columns. She swallowed nervously as a worrying thought occurred.
Her gown was red.
Oh, God!
She was attending as Rafael’s widow and her gown was red!
But there wasn’t time to dwell on it.
Instead of checking in, as Mia had expected to do, she was personally greeted by the exceptionally good-looking Gian De Luca, the owner of La Fiordelise.
Mia was starting to understand that this night wasn’t just big, it was huge, and she had forgotten what it was like to be in the Romanos’ world!
‘We are delighted to welcome you to La Fiordelise,’ Gian said, and introduced her to the guest services manager, who, he said, would escort her to her suite.
As she rode the ancient elevator, Mia was having a silent panic about her gown. It was in deep blood-red silk, a halter neck, with a slit at the back that revealed a glimpse of brilliant scarlet silk lining. It had been made with a great deal of skill and care and was sensual and gorgeous, though it showed a little too much of her shoulders and back for Mia’s usual taste. It had been absolutely suitable for her entrance, and first real social appearance as Rafael Romano’s wife.
She just wasn’t so sure it was a suitable gown for Rafael Romano’s recent widow!
‘I trust you will be comfortable,’ the guest services manager said.
Comfortable!
The suite was utterly sumptuous, with stencilled walls dotted with gorgeous oil paintings, and tastefully decorated with antique furnishings. It was like stepping into another world and as she glanced through to the bedroom she saw the bed dressed in rich linens and silk drapes.
And it was all for her!
Rafael had told her the ball was an oppulent affair. In fact, Mia knew that in the divorce negotiations Angela had fought to continue to attend the ball, but Rafael had put his foot down and said, no, it would be too messy; Angela could keep the Romano surname but not her place at the ball.
Mia had never fully grasped the lavishness of the occasion.
She grimaced slightly at her paltry case as it was delivered, and knew it was filled with one silk gown, stilettos, nightwear, underwear, a denim skirt and top and a make-up bag. Never had the usually meticulous Mia felt so vastly underprepared.
‘Is there anything we can help with?’ the guest services manager asked.
So daunted was Mia by the prospect of tonight she was brave enough to ask for some help. ‘Actually, I’ve probably left it far too late but I wasn’t able to book a hair appointment.’
‘I shall have the personal stylist come and speak with you now.’ He smiled. ‘No problem at all.’
It was indeed no problem, for after a long conversation with the personal stylist, it was agreed that while Mia took high tea on the balcony, her bath would be drawn and then the hair and make-up experts would come in.
The suite was stunning and looked out at Piazza Navona, a gorgeous public space with grand statues and fountains, and Mia sat sipping tea and trying to quell her nerves while telling herself it would all be okay though she felt terribly rude to have not RSVP’d. Her gown had been taken to be skilfully pressed and she had a host of fairy godmothers on hand to get her ready for the ball.
A little later she lay in a deep bath, terrified about all the night held, still not knowing what would happen between her and Dante.
Would they get a chance to speak?
And, if they did, would she tell him about the baby?
But there was more on her mind than the baby. Just the thought of seeing him was enough to mean the pink hue to her skin could not all be blamed on the fragrant warm water out of which she now stepped.
She was to be given the full treatment, although Mia had declined a massage, unsure if she could while pregnant, and most unwilling to tell the staff her secret. Instead, she applied gorgeous body oil and then put on a fluffy white gown and stepped out to begin her transformation.
‘Subtle make-up,’ Mia said, her eyes drifting to the very red gown.
‘Of course, Signora Romano.’
Her rather short nails were buffed to perfection; even her toenails were treated to the same.
In her time with Rafael she had steered clear of all this, preferring to retreat to the Tuscan hills, but now she was getting a real insight into the lavish lifestyle the Romanos led in Rome and she was finding it unnerving.
There was a knock on the door, just as her hair had been done and her make-up was being applied. There was a slight flutter of panic from all the staff present when it was established that the owner, Gian, was personally delivering a package to the room.
‘Un regalo per Mia,’ she heard. A gift for Mia.
It was a black velvet box, the colour Mia now wished her dress was!
As the staff stepped back to focus on her shoes and dress, Mia opened the card.
It was cream with embossed gold edging but the note was handwritten.
Thank you for attending
Dante Romano
Mia opened the box slowly and was startled at what she saw: a pair of the most exquisite rose-gold drop earrings and on the end of each, twinkling and shining, were briolette-cut diamonds.
No wonder Gian had hand-delivered them for they were surely worth a fortune. They must be on loan for the night, Mia decided, because they were simply divine. Perhaps Dante did not want her looking like the poor relation tonight.
But it turned out that she looked nothing like the poor relation!
Even Mia gasped at her own reflection as she stood before a long mirror, for she barely recognised herself.
The dress was as exquisite as she remembered from last year’s fittings, but her bust had filled out a touch, and there was rather more curve to her hips, which made her overall figure seem more voluptuous. Her make-up was not quite as subtle as she’d hoped—though her lips were neutral, her lashes h
ad been darkened and black and winged eyeliner had been applied—but she’d been told the gown required it. And the gown absolutely required the earrings she now put on, because they pulled the whole look together completely.
And soon she would face Dante.
The elevator took her down to the first floor. From there she took the grand stairs down to the reception where the family were gathered before entering the ballroom.
Mia drew on every bit of reserve she possessed in order to at least appear calm while knowing she had completely underestimated the magnitude of this night.
And there Dante was, standing with Ariana and Stefano.
She could feel his eyes on every inch of bare skin as Mia made her slow way down. Ariana must have said something caustic for Dante tore his eyes away and turned to his sister, and it was clear to Mia that he was scolding her.
Indeed, Ariana had failed at first hurdle to put animosity aside. ‘Hardly a grieving widow,’ she hissed when she first glimpsed Mia.
‘I told you, Ariana,’ Dante warned, ‘to cut it out.’
He turned his attention back to Mia and all he could think was, Thank God!
Thank God his father had been unable to attend last year, for had he seen her like that, he would have been plunged straight into hell. And while Dante knew only too well Mia’s beauty, he was simply blown away for in that stunning red she was, to Dante, absolute perfection. He saw she was not wearing her wedding and engagement rings, and when the earrings caught the light and sparkled he felt a certain pride that she wore his diamonds tonight. She looked seductive yet elegant, and she had him fighting himself not to walk over and offer his arm for those last few stairs.
‘Mia,’ Dante said as she joined them, ‘you look stunning. Thank you for being here tonight.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’
‘How are you?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ Mia said. Well, apart from being about to spontaneously combust! Dante looked impeccable and wore a dinner suit with utter ease. The jacket was velvet and as dark as his eyes, which were blazing with approval. His scent, that unique Dante scent, had reached her and as his suited arm brushed her bare one lust rippled through her like a stone skimming a pond.
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