‘There is an image of Dante and Mia in the atrium.’
‘And?’ Ariana was instantly defensive. Dante was her brother after all. ‘He’s allowed to speak to her, for heaven’s sake. He told us himself to be polite. She’s my father’s widow...’ Her voice faded as Dante handed her his tablet and there, on an eleven-inch screen, was an image that washed away any further excuses.
Her father’s very young widow was locked, groin to groin, with her elder brother, and raw, untamed desire blazed in both their eyes. Oh, she recognised that desire for what it was, because it was exactly what she had shared with Gian last night.
But Dante and Mia?
Her brother and her stepmother?
‘No!’ Her lungs and head shouted the denial, but the single word caught in her vocal cords and it came out a strained, husky bark. ‘He would never,’ she implored. ‘It’s been doctored, cropped...’
‘Ariana, the image is real. I called Dante just now and apologised that such an invasion of his privacy took place in my hotel. My legal team are onto it, as are my security team. We are doing all we can to stop the photo getting out and,’ he added darkly, ‘I shall discover the culprit.’
But Ariana didn’t care who had taken the photo, only that this moment in time had ever existed.
Oh, Papà!
She wanted to weep at the insult to his memory. She wanted to hurl a thousand questions at her brother, who went through women like socks. Except surely this woman, the widow of his father, should have been out of bounds?
‘How long have they been together...?’ Her accusing eyes looked at Gian.
‘Ariana, you are asking the wrong person.’
‘I’m asking exactly the right person. You’re a who’s who of all the scandal in Rome!’ She wanted to claw the hair from her scalp. ‘Did. You. Know?’
‘Yes.’
He might as well have stabbed her for she put her hands to her chest and moaned exactly as if he had. ‘Traitor!’
‘Stop it.’ Dante pointed a warning finger and moved swiftly into damage control. But this time he was moving swiftly to protect not his hotel’s reputation but Ariana from the fallout that was surely to come. ‘Look at me,’ he said, and waited till finally she met his eyes. ‘It is not so terrible.’
‘But it is.’
‘Because you make it so! Remember how you accused me last night, how you said Mia and I were closer in age...?’
She blinked as she replayed her own accusation.
‘Your brother is my age.’
‘She’s his stepmother...’
‘So will say the headlines, but that’s just click bait... Listen to me, Ariana.’ He could feel her calming just a touch. ‘Think of how Dante will be feeling right now.’
She nodded, and looked down the barrel of recent weeks. ‘I knew something was wrong. I thought he was just missing Papà, not just...’
‘I know what you mean. Ariana, it must have been hell for him.’
‘I need to speak to him.’ Though still frantic, he could feel her calm beneath his touch. ‘Both of them...’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘but without accusation. He and Mia have taken off to Luctano...’
‘You’ve spoken to him.’
‘Just now,’ Gian said.
‘Can you take me there?’
‘Of course. I’ll have Luna arrange the pilot. Go down to your suite and get dressed and I’ll meet you there.’
She took the elevator down to the spa floor and then stepped out and took the guest elevator back up to her own. There she pulled on some underwear and a pretty dress. Gian’s calm manner was somehow infectious, for she even dried and styled her hair.
But then her phone rang and she saw it was her mother, just back from her cruise.
‘How much more can I be shamed?’ her mamma shouted.
‘Mamma, please,’ Ariana attempted. ‘Maybe there is some explanation.’
‘Mia and Dante. My son!’
‘Mamma, you should surely hear what Dante has to say. They are closer in age...’ Ariana pleaded, repeating Gian’s words, but nothing would placate her.
‘That woman!’ she sobbed. ‘She has killed my family, my joy, my life. She takes and she takes and she leaves me with nothing.’
‘You have me,’ Ariana pleaded. ‘Mamma...’ But she had run out of excuses for Mia and Dante. ‘I’m going now to speak with him.’
‘Well, you know what to say from me.’
If Ariana didn’t know, she was specifically told.
‘Okay?’ Gian checked as they headed up to the rooftop, except she barely heard him. All she could hear was her mamma’s acidic, angry words.
‘I wanted the ball to be perfect for Papà.’
It was all Ariana said.
Sitting in his helicopter, Gian looked from her pale face down to the rolling hills and the familiar lace of vines. Now they were deep into spring and the poppy fields were a blaze of red, and there was foliage on the once bare vines.
He turned back to Ariana, who sat staring ahead with her headphones on, her leg bobbing up and down. He didn’t doubt that she was nervous to be facing her brother.
Gian was sure that it would soon be sorted out. He knew how close the Romano siblings were. At least, they had been growing up. And surely even Ariana could understand that grief and comfort were a heady cocktail. Hell, she’d sought comfort herself on the night of the funeral after all.
He spotted the lake and soon they were coming in to land. Only then did Gian wonder how it might look that he was arriving with Ariana.
Would it be obvious they had spent the night together?
Did it announce them as a couple?
Gian was nowhere near ready for that. If anything, a couple of hours ago he’d been ready to end things, as was his usual way.
But, as it turned out, Ariana wasn’t expecting anything from Gian, other than the equivalent of a rather luxurious taxi ride.
‘Wait there,’ she said, as she took her headphones off. ‘I shan’t be long.’
‘What?’ Gian checked, unsure what she meant.
She was more than used to entering and exiting a helicopter, and the second it was safe to do so, the door opened and
