Magnus and I are, of course, escorted up specially. He leans in to say something to the man who has led us in. The man nods and then guides us further up toward the building.
I wonder who he’s leading us to?
Inside, the music from a DJ vibrates through my body, causing me to dance a little even as we walk. The interior is large and open, with a floor populated by dancers and an upstairs location where even more people socialize.
There’s a huge Buddha at the center of it all, with white fabric draped over him. The pink, red, and yellow lights bounce off the white clothes surrounding us, making the place come alive.
We’re led up the stairs and eventually to a large table where about eight people are already enjoying themselves. They laugh and drink with all the ease of the young, wealthy, and attractive, like trust fund kids who are already too worldly for their own good.
But what does Magnus want with them?
He stands there, staring at one couple in particular, and I feel the awkwardness begin to creep in.
Then the female of the couple he’s staring at seems to finally notice him. She’s pretty with an oval face, high cheekbones, and full lips. She has long, black hair and light eyes I can see even in the multicolored lighting around us. Those eyes flash in shock, and she nearly drops the flute of champagne in her hand.
Even over the loud music, I can hear her words of surprise.
“Magnus! What are you doing here?”
Chapter Forty-Five Magnus
I stare at Estelle with satisfaction, knowing I’ve caught her off guard.
What I didn’t expect was for the man whose hand she’s holding to look so pleased to see me. He smiles up at me as though he was actually hoping I’d show up.
Interesting.
“I thought I would join you tonight. I felt like partying.”
Estelle’s nostrils flare with incensed irritation, and I see those green eyes, about two shades lighter than mine, flash in anger.
I look around the table. “But it seems there’s no room for me and my date.”
Giorgio rattles off something in Italian to the couple sitting next to him, and they nod in response. The man of the couple turns to me with a smile.
“We go to dance, sì?” He says in broken English.
I give him an appreciative smile, even as Estelle leans in to whisper something with angry urgency to Giorgio. He says something back to her in a calm manner, tenderly placing a hand on her cheek, which seems to settle her. It’s almost enough to make me go soft and gooey inside.
Almost.
“Grazie,” I say to the exiting couple, matching their Italian with the little that I know.
I guide Sloane to the chair closest to Giorgio, which gives me a better vantage point to see both him and Estelle.
“Hello, I’m Sloane Alexander,” she says, holding out a hand for Giorgio. Even over the music, I can hear the chipper tone trying to cut through the obvious tension on this side of the table.
“Giorgio Conti,” the man next to her says, taking her hand and turning it to kiss the back, rather than shake.
The girlish giggle she gives evaporates whatever goodwill I might have built up toward him since I first arrived.
“I’m Estelle Reinhardt, the sister of the man you’re sitting next to,” my sister says to her, before turning to glare at me.
“Nice to meet you,” Sloane says, turning to give me a slightly accusatory look. I can’t blame her. I probably should have warned her who we’d be meeting tonight, but I didn’t want a lot of questions or discussion about why.
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you know I’m here tonight,” Estelle says loudly enough for me to hear.
“Mona mentioned you would be coming into town and that you were hoping to meet with me. So, here I am.”
Estelle coughs out a sarcastic laugh and takes a sip of her champagne, eyeing me over the glass.
“I was actually the one to insist on meeting with you,” Giorgio says, still with that ingratiating smile on his face.
Now that I’m closer to him, I can see why a young woman would fall for him. Thick, wavy hair, perfectly styled. Dark eyes and a white smile. With his olive skin tone and perfectly Romanesque features, he might as well have Italian Stallion stamped on his forehead.
“I thought it was proper to meet the older brother of the woman I’m in love with.”
I want to laugh. He’s definitely laying it on thick.
Even Estelle seems to buy it, lifting her chin to give me a defiant look as though daring me to find fault with this one.
I’m tempted to end this now, quickly and efficiently, but I think it might be more enjoyable, and frankly, less messy, to let him hang himself with his own rope.
Giorgio pours two glasses of champagne for us. Sloane sips hers as she sits back, her gaze darting between Giorgio and me.
“How did you two meet?” I ask him.
His smile broadens, and he turns to Estelle, who is still throwing daggers at me with her eyes.
“It was at a fashion exhibition…in Paris,” she says, spitting the last word out.
“Is that when you decided the school, which I was paying for, by the way, was no longer of interest to you?”
“I didn’t quit! I just—”
Giorgio brings one arm up around her shoulders to calm her before she gets too outraged.
“I’m afraid this is my fault.”
“Is that so?” I ask, raising one eyebrow menacingly. He’s making this too easy.
“Sì, when I first met Estelle, I was…” He turns to smile at her. The smile she gives back obliterates any hint of animosity she had toward me. He turns back to me with stars in his eyes. “It was love at first sight.”
I cough out a sharp laugh and take a sip of my champagne.
“That’s so sweet,” Sloane says next to me, earning her two dazzling smiles from the smitten couple.
“But when I saw her drawings, I
