‘The table is near the back,’ Ariana explained, ‘and with Paulo not coming because you banned him—’
‘I will ban anyone who is abusive to my staff, which he was.’
‘Well, she doesn’t know anyone she’s seated with. She was hoping to bring a friend.’
‘You’re her friend,’ Gian rather tersely pointed out. ‘Would you like me to move you to sit with her, because there simply isn’t room at the top table.’
‘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
