Pure nerves, Ariana decided. After all, she did have a huge favour to ask!
‘I apologise for not coming out to greet you,’ Gian said as he came around the desk and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I was just finishing up some work.’
‘That’s fine. Luna took good care of me.’
Except she felt far from fine. Ariana rather wished that the nerves in her chest would abate, yet they fluttered like butterflies—or perhaps fireflies would be a more apt description because there was a flash of heat creeping up her neck and searing her cheeks, but then Gian was, to say the least, rather commanding.
Cold, people called him.
Especially back home in Luctano, where gossip and rumour abounded. The history of the De Lucas was often whispered about and discussed in her home town—at times even by her family. Though a child at the time, Ariana could well remember the shock and horror in the village as news of the fire aboard their luxury yacht had hit in the early hours of a Sunday morning. And, of course, she still remembered the funeral held in Luctano for the Duke, the Duchess and the heir apparent...
People whispered about the fact that Luca hadn’t attended the renewal of his parents’ vows, and his lack of visible emotion at the funeral.
Yet, as Ariana sometimes pointed out, the fact that he hadn’t attended had saved his life.
And, the villagers would add, happy to twist the truth, his brother’s death made him a duke. As if Gian had swum out into the ocean and torched the boat himself!
‘Basta!’ Ariana would tell them.
Enough!
Ariana actually liked his steely reserve.
Her own self was so volatile that when life spun too fast, it was to Gian she turned for his distant, measured ways.
While rumour had it he melted women in the bedroom and endeared both staff and guests with his calm assertiveness, it was the general consensus that behind his polished façade there was no heart or emotion, just a wall of solid black ice. Ariana needed that wall of black ice on side so she kept her smile bright. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me.’
‘Of course.’ Gian gestured for her to take a seat as he did the same. ‘Can I offer you some refreshments?’
‘No, thank you.’ Gosh, small talk was difficult when you had a huge favour to ask! ‘How was your Christmas?’
‘Busy,’ Gian responded, then politely enquired, ‘Yours?’
Ariana lifted her hand and made a wavering gesture, to show it had not been the best, though she did not bore Gian with the details, like how, in the manner of a tennis ball in an extended rally, she’d bounced between Florence and Rome. Gian already knew all about her parents’ divorce and her father’s subsequent marriage to the much younger Mia. After all the marriage had taken place here!
And he knew too that her father wasn’t at home in Luctano but in a private hospital in Florence and so she gave him a brief update. ‘Dante is hoping to have Papà moved here to Rome,’ Ariana said, but left out the hospice word. ‘That should make things a bit easier.’
‘Easier for whom?’ Gian enquired.
‘For his family,’ Ariana responded tartly, but then squirmed inwardly, for it was the very question she had been asking herself since her brothers had suggested the move. ‘His children are all here, his Rome office...’ Her voice trailed off. Though the impressive Romano Holdings offices were in the EUR business district of Rome, Dante had taken over the running of the company when their father had remarried.
Gian’s question was a pertinent one—and confirmed for Ariana that she needed to speak with her father and find out exactly what it was he wanted for the final months of his life. ‘It is not all decided,’ she admitted to Gian. ‘We are just testing ideas.’
‘Good,’ Gian said, and she blinked at the gentler edge to his tone. ‘I visited him yesterday.’
‘You visited him in Florence?’
‘Of course. You know I have a sister hotel opening there in May?’ Gian checked, and Ariana nodded. ‘I always try and drop in on Rafael when I am there.’
For some reason that brought the threat of tears to her eyes, but she hastily blinked them back. Ariana was not one for tears—well, not real ones; crocodile tears she excelled at—but at times Florence, where her father was in hospital, felt so far away. It was an hour or so by plane and she visited as much as she could. So did her brothers, and of course Mia was there and the family home in Luctano was nearby...but at night, when she couldn’t sleep, Ariana always thought of her father alone.
There was a break in the conversation that Gian did absolutely nothing to fill. A pregnant pause was something Ariana was incapable of. If there was a gap she felt duty-bound to speak. Any lull in proceedings and she felt it her place to perform. Gian, she felt, would let this silence stretch for ever and so of course it was she who ended it. ‘Gian, there is a reason I am here...’
Of course there was!
Her slender hands twisted in her lap. She was nervous, Gian realised. This was most unlike Ariana, who was usually supremely confident—arrogant, in fact. It dawned on him then what this urgent appointment might be about. Did she want to bring her latest lover here, without it being billed to the Romano guest folio so as to avoid her father or brothers finding out?
It was often the case with family accounts, but if that was what Ariana was about to ask him...
No way!
There was no question he would facilitate her bringing her latest lover to stay here! ‘What is it you want?’ Gian asked, and she blinked at the edge to his tone.
‘I have decided that I want a career.’
‘A career?’ His features relaxed and there was even a shadow of a smile that he did not put down to relief that she wasn’t
