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

by Dani Collins

  ‘No.’

  But his words couldn’t comfort her now. She was still shaking from the recent encounter with someone she had considered to be her friend, someone she had defended so often to this man.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Gian said.

  ‘I know you never liked her.’

  ‘I mean, I’m sorry you had to go through that.’

  ‘I should have listened to you in the first place. In fact, I’m starting to think you might be right...about the value of not letting people get too close.’

  ‘Never take relationship advice from me,’ Gian said. ‘As you have undoubtedly seen, I am not particularly good at them.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Ariana smiled. ‘You made me feel pretty wonderful, at least for a while.’ But she hadn’t come here to discuss her time with Gian. She’d said what she’d come to say. ‘Anyway, thank you for being so gracious. I just thought it was something you should know. I don’t know if Nicki will have the audacity to come here again...’

  ‘It’ll be fine. I’ll let my security team know.’ He looked at her swollen eyes and knew Nicki had said plenty more. ‘What else did she say?’ Gian asked.

  Ariana was rarely silent.

  ‘Tell me,’ he pushed.

  ‘That I’m spoiled...’

  ‘You deserve to be spoiled.’

  ‘You do too, Gian.’

  ‘What do you mean? I have everything I could possibly want or need.’

  ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’ He was so self-assured and yet so remote, just so impossible to reach. She ached, literally ached, to shower him with kisses, to bring him ice cream in bed, to be there at the beginning and the end of his day... ‘It’s not about the best bits, Gian.’ He just stared back at her, nonplussed.

  It was time to let go of her fantasy that he would change his mind, that he would see her as anything more. It was time to go.

  She stood to leave, but it was Gian who delayed her. ‘Are you ready for the wedding tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He wanted her to elaborate, as she usually did. Gian wanted to know if she was dreading tomorrow, if she was speaking with Mia, and lots more besides, but it would seem he had lost his front row seat to her thoughts.

  ‘Good luck with the opening,’ Ariana said.

  ‘Thank you. Enjoy the wedding.’

  ‘I intend to.’

  This really was it, Gian realised.

  The tears she had shed and her sudden appearance hadn’t been about him. It had been about Nicki and a friendship lost.

  There was no baby, no emotional issues to deal with, it really was just time to move on.

  Gian was usually very good at that. So why did he feel this way?

  * * *

  The opening of La Fiordelise Florence was a tremendous success and on the Saturday night esteemed guests mingled and celebrated. While he should be quietly congratulating himself, he had never felt more alone in a crowded room.

  The best food, the best champagne, and if it was sex he wanted, well, there would be no shortage there, for there were beautiful women vying for his attention.

  The problem was him, because instead of enjoying the spoils of his own success Gian found himself slipping away not long after dinner, sitting in his impressive suite leafing through a leather-bound book... There were several pictures of him fishing or riding with Dante and later with the twins. There was one of a teenage Gian rolling his eyes while Dante kicked a stone to Stefano as a very spoiled Ariana sat on a fat little pony, the absolute apple of her parents’ eyes.

  But then Ariana faded from the images as life took its twists and turns and he had headed to university. There were a couple of years without any images while the disasters that had unfolded back then had played out.

  He had never really likedAngela Romano, but there was a picture of him smiling at her the night La Fiordelise had been saved. Angela was dripping jewels and being her usual affected self, as she stood with her husband and Gian.

  This really was a gift without an agenda, Gian knew, for there was even a picture of Gian standing with the Romano family on the night Ariana had attended her first ball. He knew Ariana had made this album purely for his benefit because she would prefer that this picture of herself be relegated to burn in a fire for she looked scowling and awkward.

  It was a slice of time he had forgotten.

  Even now, as he looked at the photo, there was no flash of memory.

  He would have been in his mid-twenties then, and Ariana at that awkward age of fifteen, her hair done in a way that now looked very much of its time, and she had been wearing too much make-up.

  They had all been there for him throughout his life, and he couldn’t help but wonder what each of the Romanos was doing now.

  How Ariana was coping with the nuptials.

  He turned back the pages and looked again at a podgy little Ariana sitting on a podgy little pony, only he saw it differently this time... Not the pony, or the pampered heiress, just the absolute adoration on her face as she smiled at her parents and pleaded with them, with her eyes, to be loved, loved, loved...

  It could have been a cone full of chestnuts they had given her; it wasn’t the pony she had craved, it had been attention and love.

  Gian went out onto the balcony and gazed on the Ponte Vecchio, the gorgeous old bridge that was the soul of Florence, and sung about in ‘O Mio Babbino Caro’.

  Yet it was not the music that filled his soul tonight, for he would never look at this bridge and not think of her.

  Ariana.

  Yes, he was proud of his new hotel, but tonight his heart was in Rome.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘COLOUR,’ ELOA HAD SAID.

  A Brazilian wedding was a colourful affair, and that was evident even before the nuptials had started. Even though Gian was not in Rome this weekend, he had ensured La Fiordelise was at their disposal. The reception area was a blaze of colour and forbidden perfume, Ariana noticed as she walked through Reception and headed up to her suite to get changed.

  Ariana would have preferred to wear black, as she had to the Romano Ball, to denote that she was in mourning. For her father, of course, but the end of a relationship also felt a whole lot like grief. She awoke with a weight of sadness in her chest that never quite left, and she felt Gian’s presence beside each and every thought. Yet she must push it all aside today, so she chose a dress as red as her signature lipstick. She wore her jet-black hair up, teased, with a few stray curls snaking down, meaning that she looked far more vibrant than she felt.

  As Stefano fiddled with his tie, Ariana stepped out for a moment onto the balcony and looked down at the square beneath and remembered the night of her father’s funeral, that desperately lonely night made so much better by Gian.

  Why had she insisted that he stay away, when the truth was that she missed him already?

  Half the congregation were clipping their way across the square to the venue and Ariana watched the colourful display from the balcony of Stefano’s suite. The sun seemed at odds with the greyness of her world, and the flowers looked like placards from angry protesters to her tired eyes, yet they waved their petals and demanded she sparkle.

  And so Ariana put on her best smile and stepped back inside. ‘We should head over soon,’ she told him.

  ‘Before we do, there’s something I want to say,’ Stefano said. ‘Ariana, I’m sorry for shutting you out.’

  ‘Stefano, we don’t need to do this now. It’s your wedding day...’

  ‘And I want it to be perfect,’ he said. ‘I want the air to be cleared between us. Gian suggested—’

  ‘Gian?’ Ariana frowned.

  ‘He called me this morning to wish me well and apologise for not being here. We got to talking...’ He took a breath.

  Even though he wasn’t
physically here, Gian was still looking out for her, Ariana realised. He was still fixing the pieces of her life that he could, and she was so grateful to him as Stefano spoke on and finally gave her his reasons for keeping his distance. ‘You see, I knew Mamma was having an affair, and I was having suspicions about Pa and Roberto. I was worried I might let things slip when I spoke to you and so I stayed away as much as I could. I was wrong...’

  ‘No,’ Ariana corrected. ‘You did what you thought best at the time, and the air is clear now.’ Clear, if a little thick with unshed tears when she thought of Gian and this moment he had created to bring her and her twin back together.

  ‘We have some catching up to do,’ Stefano prompted.

  ‘We do...’ Ariana smiled ‘...though it can wait till after your honeymoon.’ But certain things would wait for ever. They were close again, but it would never be like it was before. Gian had changed her, she realised. She was far more independent now and did not need to run and tell Stefano everything, certainly not about herself and Gian.

  It was her secret to keep.

  ‘Do you have the rings?’ Stefano asked for maybe the twentieth time.

  ‘I have the rings.’ Ariana smiled as she checked again for maybe the thirtieth time! ‘Are you nervous?’

  ‘Very,’ Stefano admitted, and looked at his sister. ‘I miss him.’

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘It’s the bride who should be crying...’ Stefano said as he took a deep breath. ‘I’m so happy yet I miss him so much today.’

  ‘Hey,’ Ariana soothed, and then she did something she never thought she would do. She reached into her purse and took out a tiny sliver of gold she had sworn she would never give away, but that Gian had told her she might. ‘Papà gave Gian this for strength when his family died...’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘And he gave it to me when I felt weak at Papà’s funeral, but I don’t need it any more.’ She put it in his top pocket. ‘Papà is with you today.’

  Ariana got on with her designated job: getting her brother to the embassy on time and remembering the rings.

  Eloa was a stunning bride and the day brimmed with happiness. Well, that was what Ariana determinedly showed, even if there was a squad of elves holding down the cork on a vat of tears she would later shed.

  ‘No Nicki?’ Dante checked after the service as he handed her a glass of cachaça—a rather smoky Brazilian rum that made her eyes water. Ariana shook her head, deciding that she would tell him another time about the photo.

  Tonight was a celebration after all.

  And then Mia had a question for her new husband. ‘No Gian again?’

  ‘His new hotel,’ Dante said. ‘The opening was booked before the wedding date was decided and couldn’t be changed...’

  It was a throwaway sentence as he took his gorgeous wife off to dance and Ariana stood there, wondering how she would get through not just tonight but every future Romano family event at which Gian should be present.

  Because Mia was right, Gian should be here.

  The Romanos loved him like their own and he belonged here amongst them.

  And when the next one happened, and the next, Ariana had to somehow work out how not to tumble into bed with him afterwards.

  For. The. Rest. Of. Her. Life.

  Oh, those elves were working overtime, yet she refused to cry and so she danced with Pedro, who was a cousin of the bride, and she danced with Francisco, who was a friend of an aunt, and Ariana laughed and danced and determinedly refused to give in to a heart that was breaking.

  ‘Come on, Ariana...’ They were all dragging her to the centre, where it would seem it was a Brazilian tradition to dance around Eloa’s gold shoes. Really, Ariana had no idea what she was doing, but she swayed her hips and laughed and did a sort of Spanish flamenco around the shoe, tapping her feet and swishing the ruffles on her dress.

  * * *

  He had almost missed this, Gian thought when he saw her.

  He had almost missed another Romano wedding and another night with people he could only now admit to himself were family.

  The usually unruffled Luna had nearly thrown a fit when Gian had declared that he was flying back to Rome and asked if she could arrange it urgently, as well as a couple of other small assignments he wanted her to swiftly organise. ‘I need to be there tonight.’

  Fortunately, Ariana had arranged the reception just across from La Fiordelise so, with his helicopter landing late into the night, it was a simple matter of checking everything was in place and feeding some official documents through the shredder.

  Gian didn’t need reminders of the past.

  It was a future he wanted now.

  And with the past shredded, he walked across the square to Palazzo Pamphili and found, to his pleasant surprise, he was still on the guest list.

  Walking through the grand building with its intricate ceilings and formal galleries, there was a moment to gather himself in such esteemed surroundings. It felt deserted, yet finally he could hear the laughter and merriment as if calling for him to join in. And even without his feelings for Ariana, it was right that he was there tonight for, perfect or not, these people had been more of a family to him than his own.

  ‘Gian!’ Dante caught up with him as he congratulated the bride and groom and apologised for arriving so late. ‘It is good that you made it.’

  It was said completely without implication or malice that he had missed theirs, Gian knew; Dante and Mia were simply pleased to see him.

  Gian was back in the fold, as easily as that, and he stood watching the celebrations for a moment, taking it all in. He did not have to strain to locate Ariana; she was completely unmissable, of course.

  Dressed in red, she was the belle of the ball, dancing and laughing and having the time of her life, so much so that even Gian could not see the hurt he was certain resided within.

  He wasn’t vain enough to believe it was all to do with him. There was the loss of her father, her relationship with her mother, Nicki, Stefano...

  He was proud of his diva and her acting skills, proud of her resilience, and also aware of an unfamiliar sensation tightening his chest as she danced happily in another man’s arms.

  And another!

  Damn it, Ariana, Gian thought, I get it. Your life will go on without me, but please tone it down!

  He had never cared about anyone enough to know jealousy before, yet he learned there and then to breathe through it, even smiling as she kicked up her heels.

  No longer able to resist, he caught Ariana’s arm as she stamped past him, and saw how startled she was in her violet eyes when they locked with his.

  Gian was here.

  Damn!

  Just as she did her best to move on and prove to herself she could party without him, the best-looking spanner in the world was suddenly thrown into the works.

  ‘I’m busy dancing,’ she told him, and reclaimed her arm.

  ‘It’s a Brazilian wedding, Ariana,’ he told her. ‘Not a Spanish one.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Yet you’re doing the flamenco.’

  ‘So I am...’ Her heart was hammering because she could not quite believe that he was here. ‘These cachaças are very strong.’ She was trying to act normally, or rather how she would have acted a year ago at a family event when Gian De Luca suddenly showed up. ‘I thought you had to be at the La Fiordelise Florence, opening—’

  ‘I left early and gave myself the rest of the night off...’

  ‘Why are they all called La Fiordelise?’ she snapped. It had always annoyed her and she let him know tonight. ‘It’s hardly original.’

  ‘Your father said the same.’

  ‘Well, you should have listened to him. La Fiordelise, London. La Fiordelise, Azerbaijan...’ Gosh those cachaças must be strong, she thought, b
ecause she allowed a little of her resentment to seep out. ‘Perhaps you could send me there...’

  He just smiled.

  But it was a smile she had never seen before. Not his on-duty smile, or his off-duty one; it was just a smile that let her be, that simply accepted her as she was and, she felt, suddenly adored.

  ‘Hey, Ariana...’ Pedro was waving her to join in another odd-looking dance.

  ‘Your boyfriend is calling you to dance with him again,’ Gian said, and with those words let her know he’d been watching her for a while. ‘You’re very popular tonight.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Ariana said, and she’d never been happier to be caught dancing and smiling and laughing, even if she was bleeding inside. ‘I am in demand!’

  ‘Have you time to dance with me?’

  No.

  She had to practise saying no to him, had to have that tiny word fall readily from her tongue.

  For. The. Rest. Of. Her. Life.

  Except that tiny word felt far too big when she looked into those beautiful slate-grey eyes. She would start tomorrow, Ariana decided, and allow herself just one tiny dance tonight. ‘One dance,’ Ariana said, and found herself back in his arms. ‘For the sake of duty.’

  Yet this was no duty dance, for his arms were no longer wooden and his hands ran down her ribs and came to rest on her hips and there was slight pressure there to pull her against him. He moved like silk and this time it was Ariana who was the one holding back.

  ‘Dance with me,’ he moaned.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Like we did.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘My mother is looking.’

  ‘Let her look.’

  ‘You know what she can be like.’

  ‘Tell her that your sex life is none of her business.’

  ‘I have.’ Ariana laughed. ‘But we no longer have a sex life, so there’s nothing to tell.’

  She felt the heat of his palm low on her hips and heat somewhere else as he pulled her hard up against him. His voice was low in her ear and made her shiver. ‘You’re sure about that?’

  This wasn’t fair, Ariana thought as they danced cheek to cheek with their bodies meshed together. He wasn’t being fair after all that had passed between them.