Harlequin Presents--April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Dani Collins

  ‘Well, work has been busy.’

  ‘I’m sure it has.’ She nodded. ‘What’s happening about the ball?’

  ‘It’s all under control. I’m meeting with Gian at five to finalise the details...’ His voice trailed off. There was a strange atmosphere in the office, and for an appalling moment she wondered if Dante had found out about their one illicit night, or rather illicit morning.

  ‘And?’ she asked with a nervous laugh. ‘What are the final details?’

  Dante said nothing.

  ‘How are we addressing Papà’s passing?’ Ariana pushed.

  ‘I’m sure Gian will take care of that.’

  ‘But in the will Papà asked that his children take care of the ball,’ Ariana said, but then stopped and sat chewing the edge of her thumbnail. She was worried about Dante. Though not as close to him as she had always been to Stefano, she knew there was something wrong. He was grieving for their father, but she couldn’t help but think there was more to it than that. ‘Is everything okay, Dante?’ she ventured.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You can talk to me. I might just understand.’ He closed his eyes, as if she couldn’t possibly. ‘Look, why don’t I meet with Gian?’ There was genuinely no ulterior motive, just a need to get the ball right for their father. ‘I can take over the ball...’

  ‘Would you?’ Dante’s relief was evident.

  ‘Of course.’ Ariana nodded.

  It was only then that her nerves caught up!

  * * *

  Ariana walked by the laghetto for a full hour. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom and the park looked stunning, and if there was a little trepidation about coming face to face with Gian it was soon displaced as something else took hold. Excitement. It felt like for ever since her brain had been put to work.

  Sitting on a bench, looking at the blossom swirl and float like pink snow, it was the perfect place for her imagination to wander. Scrabbling in her bag, she took out a journal and started to make notes.

  It was exhilarating, cathartic, and there were tears in her eyes as memories danced while words formed on the page. It was right that she take over the ball, Ariana knew, for she knew how best to celebrate her father.

  Ariana wasn’t even nervous about facing Gian.

  She had so much to tell him.

  * * *

  ‘I have Ariana Romano in Reception to see you,’ Luna informed him.

  ‘Ariana?’ Gian frowned. ‘But I thought I was meeting with Dante...’

  ‘Well, Ariana is here instead.’

  ‘Fine.’ Gian did his level best to act as if it were of no consequence that it was Ariana who had just arrived. It was an informal meeting, but also a very necessary meeting. One that Gian had pushed for, given Dante seemed to have—both figuratively and literally—dropped the ball. ‘Send her through.’

  Damn.

  Gian usually had no qualms about facing an ex-lover, but with Ariana it felt different indeed.

  It was because they were family friends, he told himself, steadfastly refusing to examine his feelings further than that.

  It had been weeks since the funeral and to his quiet surprise he had heard nothing from Ariana. He had expected the demanding, rather clingy Ariana to drape herself like bindweed around one of the columns in Reception, or at the very least find an accidental reason for her to drop by.

  And now she was here.

  He was curious as to her mood, and very determined to get things back on a more regular footing, as if they had never made love.

  As if they had not sat eating ice cream naked in her bed.

  She stepped into his office, and brought with her an Italian spring. He had to consciously remind himself to greet her the same way he would have before...

  ‘Ariana...’ He stood and went round his desk and of course kissed her cheeks. There were dots of pink blossom in her hair and he had to resist lifting his hand and carefully picking them out. ‘This is unexpected...’

  ‘I know.’ She gave him an apologetic smile and an eye-roll as she took her seat but she was too excited to be awkward around him. ‘Dante and I agreed that I will take over the final preparations for the ball. Believe me, I did not engineer it...’

  He knew she spoke the truth.

  For Ariana with a secret agenda would be immaculate, rather than bare-legged and a little tousled. Plus, she was more animated than he had ever seen her and dived straight in.

  ‘Firstly, I don’t want to go with the forest theme...’

  ‘Thank God,’ Gian said. ‘What theme do you have in mind?’

  ‘None,’ Ariana said. ‘I want the ballroom to speak for itself, and I want gardenias on each table. He loved them.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And orchids...’ she said, but Gian reacted with a wavering gesture with his hand.

  ‘Not together,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps by his photo?’

  Gian nodded.

  ‘And I want to change the menu.’ She handed him a sheet of paper she had torn from a pad.

  He said nothing as he read through it, for Ariana did all the talking. ‘These were my father’s favourites,’ she said. ‘I thought we could use some produce from his estate...’

  ‘One moment,’ Gian said. She sat tapping her feet as, suddenly in the midst of this most important meeting, he simply got up and walked out. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said a moment later when he returned. ‘Now, where were we?’

  ‘I don’t think it should be a solemn night, but if we can acknowledge him in the food and wine...’

  * * *

  She spoke for almost two hours. There was no champagne brought in, just sparkling water, which she took grateful sips of between pouring out ideas. There was no flirting, no reference to what had happened, no alluding to it, just a determination to get this important night right.

  ‘What about the wording for the invitations?’ Gian said. ‘Mia is technically the host...’

  ‘No!’ Only then did she flare. ‘We don’t even know if she’s coming.’

  ‘I’ll work on the wording,’ Gian agreed. ‘Leave Mia to me. I think your ideas are excellent. There’s a lot to do but I agree it has to be perfect. Why don’t we try the dinner menu now?’

  ‘Now?’ she frowned.

  ‘I asked Luna to give your menu to my head chef. He is preparing a sample menu...’

  She had her dinner invitation.

  He never took dates to the hotel’s restaurant, but Ariana wasn’t his date. It was business, Gian told himself as they were shown to his table. It looked out onto the restaurant but was private enough for conversation to take place.

  ‘I wish I was better dressed,’ Ariana admitted as a huge napkin was placed in her lap. Her clothes were better suited for lunch, or even a gentle lakeside walk, certainly not fine dining in La Fiordelise.

  ‘You look...’ He hesitated, for he did not tell his business dates they looked stunning or beautiful. ‘Completely fine.’ Gian settled for that, yet it felt as flat as the iced water that was being poured, and as shallow as the bowl in which a waterlily floated. ‘You look stunning,’ Gian admitted. ‘Especially with pink blossom in your hair.’

  Ariana laughed and raked a hand through her mane. ‘I was walking by the office; the blossom is out and it’s so beautiful.’

  ‘And so fleeting.’

  Like us, she wanted to say as she dropped a few petals from her hair into the water lily bowl between them. ‘Yes, so fleeting,’ Ariana agreed, ‘but worth it.’

  It was the briefest, and the only reference to what they had shared.

  The starter was ravioli stuffed with pecorino with a creamy white truffle sauce and it brought a smile to her lips as it was placed on the table and she signalled the waiter to rain pepper upon it.

  ‘Taste it first,’ he
told her.

  ‘Why?’ she said. ‘If it is cooked to my father’s taste then to my mind it needs more pepper and a little less salt.’ She signalled to the waiter for even more.

  ‘You love your pepper.’

  ‘I do! And he loved this pasta so much.’

  ‘I know,’ Gian told her. ‘It was served on the night La Fiordelise came back to life.’ He put down his fork and though he had never told another living soul the details, if ever there was a time to, it was now. ‘Your father saved La Fiordelise.’

  ‘Saved it?’

  ‘Yes. It was practically empty of guests and running on a skeleton staff when my family died.’

  She looked up.

  ‘Papà gave you a loan?’

  ‘Not as such.’

  Ariana frowned.

  ‘I inherited a disaster,’ Gian said, ‘and, believe me, the banks agreed...’ He hesitated at how much to tell her and decided, for this part of Rafael’s life at least, there was no need for brevity and so as the main course was served he told her what had happened. ‘Your father suggested buying into the business.’

  ‘Really?’ Ariana hadn’t known that. ‘But he didn’t?’

  ‘No.’ Gian shook his head. ‘I refused his offer.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’

  ‘I prefer to rise or fall alone,’ Gian said. ‘I did not see that the hotel could be saved. Still, not everyone was aware that it was on the brink of going under, and I told your father about a request to host some royalty on their trip to Rome. Top secret, of course...

  ‘I couldn’t consider it, but your father said it was a chance to turn things around. The Penthouse Suite was still incredible—my parents always kept the best for themselves—and the dining room was, of course, in good shape. And so word got around...’

  ‘How?’ Ariana frowned. ‘If it was top secret?’

  Gian smiled. ‘He told your mother.’ There was a tiny feeling of triumph to see Ariana laugh. ‘Before we knew it, the hotel was at full quota for a certain weekend in February.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘The helicopter brought in the best produce from your father’s estate and the best wines. And my staff worked like they never had before. That’s why now I only hire staff who can work in all areas. I had the chief bartender making up suites. Luna herself got the Penthouse Suite ready...’

  ‘My goodness.’

  ‘It was the biggest charade and it went off superbly and La Fiordelise shuddered back to life.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Not just like that,’ Gian corrected. ‘Years of hard work.’

  The main course was just as delicious but when it came to dessert, Ariana could not choose from her father’s favourites, which were all being served.

  ‘I think we choose the two best, and of course ice cream,’ Gian said, ‘though not this.’ He frowned as his silver spoon sliced through a quenelle of ice cream from her menu and pulled a face as he tasted it. ‘Tutti-frutti?’

  ‘It was his favourite,’ Ariana said. ‘Every summer, in the evening, he would send me to the shop to get a cone for him.’

  ‘Really?’ Gian checked, and he watched a little flush of pink spread up her neck. ‘Because I seem to remember that you would go to the store for ice cream and when you came back with this flavour your papà always declined his cone.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘You have it wrong.’

  ‘And Stefano would complain that he didn’t like tutti-frutti either, and so you would end up having to eat all three.’

  ‘You’re getting mixed up,’ Ariana said haughtily, and she dipped her spoon into the quenelle. He watched as she took a taste and closed her eyes in bliss, then opened them to him and looked right at him. ‘He loved that ice cream.’

  Rafael probably had, Gian conceded. Not so much the sickly-sweet candied ice cream, more the little games Ariana constantly played.

  ‘Well, it’s not going on the menu,’ Gian said. ‘It’s...’ He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. ‘A simple affogato is a better way to round off the meal.’ He watched her pout. ‘Ariana, you are one of the few people in the world who like tutti-frutti ice cream. Trust me on that.’

  ‘I suppose you know best,’ she said in her best pained voice.

  ‘There is no suppose about it.’

  ‘It would mean so much to me, though...’

  Wearily he took another taste and, as he did so, Ariana did her sneaky best and pulled on all her inner resources so that crocodile tears pooled in her violet eyes.

  It did nothing to move that black heart, though.

  ‘No,’ Gian said, and put down his spoon and, as if to prove how awful her dessert of choice was, took a drink of water before speaking again. ‘Would you like some amaro or a cognac?’ Gian suggested, but Ariana shook her head.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Are you sulking?’ he asked.

  ‘A little bit,’ she admitted, and then smiled despite herself. ‘Of course not. I just ought to get home...’ She looked away then, because the reason she could not stay was surely there in her eyes.

  She wanted her cognac.

  But not here.

  Ariana wanted to curl up with him elsewhere, to talk, to kiss, but most dangerous of all she actually ached to know him better.

  And if she stayed she would cross a line. The business meeting had surely concluded and to keep it at that, she needed to leave. ‘Thank you for a lovely dinner.’

  ‘I’ll arrange a car—’

  ‘Gian,’ she cut in, ‘the concierge can do that.’

  ‘Then I’ll walk you out.’

  They stood at the entrance and tried to pretend that they had never tumbled naked into bed, had never been more than old friends.

  ‘Your ideas are excellent,’ Gian said as the doorman blew his whistle to summon a vehicle.

  ‘Except for dessert.’

  ‘Except for dessert,’ he agreed.

  ‘And you think it’s okay not to have a theme?’

  ‘I think it’s better.’ Gian nodded. ‘It’s going to be a tricky night...’

  ‘Yes,’ Ariana agreed.

  They had been over this already. The car pulled up and it was time to stay or leave.

  ‘Gian—’ she started, for she wanted so badly to ask why there was no possible hope for them.

  ‘I’ll say goodnight,’ Gian cut in, because if he didn’t he would break his own rules about separate lives and kiss her beneath the lights and take her to his private apartment where no lover had ever gone. And they would take things further than he’d ever dared, for no one was permitted a place in his closed-off heart.

  And so he kissed her on both cheeks, and as he did so a little pink petal that had been hanging temptingly from a strand of her jet-black hair, just waiting for him to pick it off, glided down to his lapel. Her eyes drifted down. ‘You’re wearing my blossom.’

  He glanced down. ‘Yes.’

  She would not be Svetlana, Ariana decided, and pick it off. Or one of the doubtless many others that had come before her and dared to demand more. She bunched her fist so hard that her nails dug into her palm, and smiled. ‘You’d better tidy yourself up then.’

  To her everlasting credit, Ariana got into the car and went home alone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BY AND BY, the Romano Ball drew closer.

  Gian had quickly forged a strictly business code.

  There were emails and phone calls and even a couple of face-to-face meetings, but there was no low-level flirting or alluding to them.

  For there was no them.

  If anything, it was all so professional that Ariana actually wondered if she’d completely misread the mood that night after dinner, if it really had all been just business to him.

  Sometimes she wondered what
might have happened if she hadn’t asked him to leave her apartment that morning, because she’d been unable to grasp at the time that it really was to be the end of them.

  Sometimes she just stared into space for a whole afternoon, blinking as she realised it was getting dark, just wondering about him.

  A man who did not want love.

  Everyone breathed a private sigh of relief when Angela Romano, unable to bear Rome at the time of the Romano Ball, headed off on a cruise.

  Phew!

  Ariana lay in bed, so relieved not to have to do lunch and placate her mother as well as focus her attention on both Stefano and Eloa’s wedding, which she was now helping with a little, and organise the ball.

  Even when the final menu cards came, Ariana merely fired back a confirmation, saying that they looked wonderful and she was certain her father would approve.

  There was not as much as a breath of tutti-frutti between them.

  Or references to pink blossom.

  Or hints about a moonlit night and a deep kiss by the eternal flame.

  It was just:

  Gian, regarding the orchids, Roberto will bring them on the day...

  Blah, blah, blah...

  And in turn Gian, kept to his side of the deal. Or he tried to.

  Ariana, regarding the seating plan...

  But two days from the big day, he was finally so irritated that he picked up the phone and called her. ‘I don’t understand the problem with Nicki,’ Gian said. ‘We managed to find her a seat...’ He chose not to add that Nicki was being accommodated at the exclusion of a potential paying guest and this ball was a very high-end ticket indeed. ‘What is her issue?’

  ‘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.’