‘I know you did.’ Again, Gian cut her off. ‘You might remember that it was necessary for you to do three months’ work experience to pass your course and so I spoke to your father and offered for you to do your placement here.’ His eyes never left her face. ‘You failed to show up on your starting day.’
Ariana flushed. ‘Because I decided to do my placement at the family hotel in Luctano.’
‘And you didn’t even think to let me know?’
‘I thought my father’s staff had contacted you.’
But Gian shook his head. ‘The fact is, Ariana, you chose the easier option.’
‘I wanted to work here, Gian,’ Ariana insisted. ‘But my parents wanted me at the family hotel.’
‘No.’ Gian shook his head, refusing to accept her twisted truth. ‘You declined when I explained that your placement would consist of working in all areas of the hotel. You were to spend a week in the kitchen, a week as a chambermaid, a week—’
It was Ariana who interrupted now, her voice fighting not to rise as she cut in. ‘I felt I would get more experience in Luctano.’
‘Really?’ Gian checked. ‘You thought you would get more experience at a small boutique resort in the Tuscan hills than at an award-winning, five-star hotel in the heart of Rome?’
‘Yes,’ she attempted. ‘Well, perhaps not as extensive as I would have had here but...’ Her voice trailed off because her excuse was as pathetic as it sounded, but there was another reason entirely that his offer to work at La Fiordelise had been declined all those years ago. ‘That wasn’t the only reason I said no, Gian. The fact is, my mother didn’t want me working here.’
‘Why ever not?’
Even as she opened her mouth to speak, even as the words tumbled out, Ariana knew she should never be saying them. ‘Because of your reputation with women.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘PARDON?’
Gian was supremely polite as he asked her to repeat her accusation, but far from backtracking or apologising, Ariana clarified her words.
‘My mother didn’t want me working here because of your reputation with women.’ She didn’t even blush as she said it. If anything, she was defiant.
Still, such was the sudden tension that it was a relief when there was a knock on the door and soon Luna was placing down little white coasters decorated with La Fiordelise’s swirling rose gold insignia and two long, pale flutes of champagne, as well as a little silver dish of nibbles.
The dish in itself was beautiful, heavy silver with three little heart-shaped trays, individually filled with nuts, slivers of fruit and chocolates.
It was easier to focus on incidentals because, despite her cool demeanour, Ariana could feel the crackle in the air that denoted thunder, and as the door closed on Luna, she stared at the pretty dish as she re-crossed her legs at the ankles.
‘Ariana.’ Gian’s voice was seemingly smooth but there was a barbed edge to his tone that tempted her to retrieve her bag and simply run. Gian carried on, ‘Before we continue this conversation, can I make one thing supremely clear?’
‘Of course,’ Ariana said. Unable to look at him any longer, she reached for a glass.
‘Your mother had no right to imply or suggest that I would be anything other than professional with the work experience girl—or, in fact, any of my staff!’
‘Well, you do have a formidable reputation...’ Ariana started and raised the glass to her lips.
‘With women,’ Gian interrupted and then tartly added, ‘Not teenage girls, which you were back then.’
Ariana nodded, the glass still hovering by her mouth. Even as he told her off, even as he scolded her for going too far, there was something else that had been said there—that she was different now compared to then.
She was a woman.
And Gian De Luca was a very good-looking man.
She had known that, of course. His undoubtedly handsome looks had always been there—something she had registered, but only at a surface level. Yet today it had felt as if she’d been handed a pair of magical eyeglasses and she wanted to weep as she saw colour for the first time.
He was beautiful.
Exquisitely so.
His jet-black hair framed a haughty face, and his mouth, though unsmiling, was plump in contrast to the razor-sharp cheekbones and straight nose.
She could not be in lust with Gian and work for him—that would never ever do!
She wanted to pull off those imaginary glasses, to be plunged back into a monotone world, where Gian De Luca was just, well...
Gian.
Not a name she wanted to roll on her tongue.
Not a mouth she now wanted to taste.
He was just Gian, she reminded herself.
The person she ran to when trouble loomed large.
She put her glass down on the small coaster as she attempted to push her inappropriate thoughts aside and rescue the interview. ‘Mamma didn’t mean it, Gian. You know what she can be like...’
‘Yes.’ Gian held in a pained sigh. ‘I do.’
Too well he recalled joining the Romanos at their dinner table as a small boy. ‘Straccione,’ Angela would say, ruffling his hair as he took a seat at the table. It had sounded like an affectionate tease; after all, how could the son of a duke and duchess be a ragamuffin and a beggar?
Except Angela had found the cruellest knife to dig into his heart, and she knew how to twist it, for Gian had always felt like a beggar for company.
Gian wasn’t quite sure why Angela rattled him so much.
Ariana did too, albeit it in an increasingly different way.
He did not want Ariana working here. And not just because of her precious ways but because of this...this pull, this awareness, this attraction that did not sit well with him. ‘Let’s just leave things there, shall we?’ he suggested. ‘While we’re still able to be civil. I could put you in touch with the director at Hotel Rav—’ He went to name his closest rival but Ariana cut in even before he had finished.
‘I was already offered a job
