Valentina ushered her inside, looking around in the hallway to ensure there were no others, like, say, Parker, lurking in the shadows. She closed the door and locked it behind her.
“Seriously, Gisele, that was so sweet of you to think of me.”
“Yeah, well, you sort of weirded out earlier today, and then when you never materialized at dinner, I got to worrying about you.”
“You’re kind. But I’m fine. I guess I just needed to catch up on my sleep. But now I’m raring to go,” she said, holding up a finger. “Only not so much so that I could be talked into doing shots. Just so you know.”
Gisele laughed. “What were we thinking doing those? Seriously bad idea. You should have put a stop to that ASAP.”
“Me? You were the one who started!”
“Yeah, but you’re the grown-up.”
Valentina shook her head. “I thought we established earlier today that you and I are the same age.”
“It’s true,” Gisele said with a nod. “But you were born a few months before me. Which makes you older.”
“And wiser, naturally.” Valentina winked at her and pulled out two plates from the kitchen, handing one to her friend. “Pizza?” she asked, placing a slice on each plate.
“So if you’re so wise, then why do you persist in rejecting Parker?”
Valentina spluttered on a bite of pizza with that unexpectedly blunt question. She poured them both some water and offered a seat in the living room.
“It’s like this,” Valentina said, crossing her legs. “I realized long ago that your brother was something very abhorrent to me. Like, say, lima beans. Who likes lima beans? Anyone? Not me, I can promise you that. And I’ve been fine without lima beans all these years. I haven’t missed them, not ever.
“So while for ten years I’ve been convinced that he is one of the worst vegetables known to mankind, now all of a sudden I’m being persuaded that in fact, he is a chocolate milkshake. The problem is I’m so programmed to see him as lima beans, I don’t know that I can believe he’s actually a chocolate milkshake.”
Gisele twirled her finger toward her head, indicating she thought Valentina was crazy.
“Okay, so apologies if I come across as a door-to-door salesman for the Parker Hornsby collection or something. Trust me, I’m not trying to sell you on him or anything. But I do feel the need to defend the man’s honor and just have the truth out there. It’s only fair.”
Valentina nodded. “Your prerogative.”
“The thing is, I suspect my brother has as little interest in you as you do in him.”
Valentina made a mental eye-roll at that comment because Parker—or at the very least, Parker’s man-parts—had made it abundantly clear how he felt about her. Of course, she was just going to pretend her own bits didn’t betray her feelings since that would get in the way of the truth.
“Parker has had his share of girlfriends over the years,” Gisele said. “Though his main priority since our mother passed away has been me. He was always so worried about making sure I was okay, even if it meant canceling dates. Or not scheduling them at all because he was busy helping me with my homework. Or attending a soccer match I was playing in. Or helping me with my college essays.
“Parker put his life on hold after our mother died, at a time when he should have been focused on building his own life as a young man, in order to take care of me. Because I was a motherless sixteen-year-old girl who needed a steady influence in my life, and he knew that he was the only one who could provide that for me.”
Valentina just stared at Gisele, feeling sort of stupid for many presumptions she might have made about him.
“And then he did start to date, after I was in college. Nobody particularly interesting; none that I’d expect anything too serious of. He was busy with work, and I just don’t think relationships were his priority anyhow. But then he started seeing Amanda—who, by the way, I totally hated. Amanda ingratiated herself into our lives very quickly, and soon she was everywhere with us, celebrating holidays and birthdays and practically picking out a china pattern and naming the babies those two would have.”
Valentina bristled at the idea that some other woman had even thought about having Parker’s babies. Not that she had—of course she’d never think about such a childishly romantic notion as that. Although maybe she did do that a bit when she was fourteen and in love with him.
“And then Parker was at a conference, and he happened upon Amanda and his own business partner going at it in a dark corner of a hotel bar. He couldn’t believe it, it was so implausible. Like who does that sort of thing?”
“Evidently Amanda?” Valentina reached for another slice of pizza and handed one to Gisele. “This is pretty good, by the way.”
Her friend nodded. “The thing is, Amanda betrayed Parker’s trust so severely, I don’t know that he’s willing or able to commit himself to another woman. It’s been too hard for him do that quite yet.”
“I’m sorry,” Valentina said. “That’s really shitty.”
“It is. And I’m just telling you this because I think you need to see Parker in a fair light. For years Parker has been my protector. But the truth is, I feel like it’s time for me to be his. He’s a good man, Valentina. He deserves to be treated as such. And the bottom line is you have nothing to fear in Parker. He’s not chasing after you. He doesn’t want anything from you. He’s just a sweet guy trying to be friendly.”
Valentina smiled and nodded, keeping her mouth closed. But she couldn’t help but wonder if that was being “just” friendly, what would Parker be like if he was actually putting the moves on her? Which then made her wonder if perhaps she’d love to find out.
Chapter Eighteen
Parker was beside himself with nerves. Tonight was the pre-wedding gala dinner, tomorrow the wedding, and after that people would be dispersing back to their homes for the holidays. It would be his final chance to make a lasting impression on Valentina, so he knew he had to act. Unfortunately, he had no great tricks up his sleeves, and so far his charm and good looks hadn’t gotten him very far. It wasn’t like he could just snap his fingers and magically seduce that royal Romeo as much as he’d wish for that to happen.
His sister had decided she’d have more fun getting dressed for the dinner with her new BFF, and the two of them had been gone the whole afternoon, having manis and pedis and blowouts and updos, whatever those were. The very vocabulary of female maintenance was sometimes so confounding.
Truth be told, Parker was fine having the afternoon to himself. He could catch up on some work, tuck away with a book he hadn’t touched since the flight to Monaforte, and just enjoy the solitude. He didn’t mind dealing with large crowds, but he was also perfectly happy relaxing in the living room, watching the snowfall from the huge picture window. There was, after all, something rather enchanting about being in a historic palace where it felt as if anything could happen (or perhaps already had).
But now it was time to put on the monkey suit and play nice. Tomorrow would be white-tie, but this evening was the less formal black-tie. It didn’t take him long to suit up, and once he was ready, his tie straightened six times, his laces tightened against unwanted loosening, he figured he’d sit back with a glass of scotch and wait for the ladies.
Finally at half past six, he knocked on Valentina’s door to escort the women. Tonight he was shunning the proffered shuttle bus and instead had hired a limousine to take them to the National Gallery of Art where the dinner would be held.
Parker could hardly believe his eyes when he beheld his kid sister, stunning in an off-the-shoulder satin and silk form-fitting Armani gown in midnight blue. This was his sister who preferred yoga pants and a pair of Asics running shoes to even a pair of blue jeans. He’d never seen her look so grown-up before.
His eyebrows lifted, and he whistled. “Damn, G. You look smokin’. Which is no way for a little sister to be. Now I’m going to have to work twice as hard to keep the men away from you tonight.
” He reached for his topcoat. “What say you make your brother happy and wear this over your dress tonight?”
She blushed and smacked him playfully on the arm.
“Sorry I’m late,” Valentina said, racing into the living room while putting an earring in. She straightened her barely there diamond teardrop necklace, ran her hands down the front of her dress to flatten out any wrinkles, and smiled, looking at Gisele. “So. How do I look?” She held her arms out as if waiting for a dressmaker to pin the dress for alterations.
But then she took one look at Parker’s topcoat in his hands and turned five shades of red.
Parker turned and fixed his gaze on Valentina in her champagne-colored sleeveless Monique Lhuillier stretch-satin column gown with a cleavage-hugging surplice neckline. Her hair was smoothed into a chignon, emphasizing her long neck, which only made him want to run his mouth along it. Argh. He felt as if his tongue were glued to the inside of his mouth. Either that or dangling out the side like a lecherous old man.
Finally he collected his thoughts and regained his ability to speak. “You look breathtaking,” he whispered, twirling his finger to motion her to turn around so he could see the sexy V-back and train. And a crazy sexy pair of champagne-colored strappy sandals.
Valentina squirmed at the flattery, but Parker wasn’t going to let her feel awkward about it. He reached for her hand and pulled it toward his mouth, pressing his lips softly to the back of it.
“Cara mia,” he said. “Sei bellissima.” You are beautiful. He’d spent enough time with Luca’s family and the Romeos to know plenty of Italian, and only that magical tongue could do her justice at this moment.
“Okay, you two, enough with the gooey stuff,” Gisele said. “My stomach is growling. Let’s get going so we have plenty of time for hors d’oeuvres.”
Valentina nodded, looking relieved that the emphasis was no longer on her. “Let me grab my wrap.”
“You’re welcome to try this,” Parker said, his coat casually dangling from his finger over his shoulder. His eyes burned into hers, willing her to be as turned on as he was. But she only cast her eyes downward. That was okay. He had this. He just knew it deep down in his gut. The only issue was whatever happened to him keeping his distance from Luca’s cousin? He was going to have to reconcile that little problem.
~*~
They were surprised to see an SUV limousine waiting for them outside.
“With this snow, it was our only option,” Laurent, their driver, said.
Valentina, for one, was happy they wouldn’t be navigating the snowy streets of Porto Castello in a vehicle ill-equipped for the treacherous road conditions, and they arrived at the National Gallery in a under twenty minutes, which was about nineteen more minutes than she needed to be in a limo with Parker. The sexual tension was so bad you could practically cut it with a knife. It was probably a good thing Parker’s sister was there or she’d likely have pounced on him like a cat on a mouse.
She felt much safer once they arrived at the gallery and she could mingle amongst the hundreds of guests and not feel the laser-sharp focus of Parker’s attention homed in on her. Although as the cocktail hour progressed, she could still sense his presence; no matter where she stood, he was there.
And of course, as Luca and Larkin has assured her that first night, he was again seated next to her for dinner. She couldn’t decide if she was thrilled or terrified to have him in in her thrall. On the one hand, it was flattering that he was so fixed on her. But on the other, it made her feel such responsibility. To do what, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even clear if she could or would choose to act on his entreaties. In fact, she had no freaking idea what to do. Her body was yelling at her to do one thing, but her brain was putting on the brakes, and her brain was probably the one she should listen to.
These formal dinners meant a very complicated—not to mention historical—table: every place setting was measured to within the eighth of an inch. Each of the two hundred guests had ten pieces of silver-gilt cutlery at their place as well as six crystal glasses: for water, champagne, white wine, red wine, sweet wine, and port. Each guest had his or her own butter dish with two pats of butter stamped with the royal crown—yes, even the butter was personalized. Huge floral arrangements in gilded vases atop buffed mirrored trays were placed every five feet along the tables. Between the flowers were four-foot-tall candelabras that had belonged to the royal family since the seventeenth century. The porcelain dishes were more than two hundred years old.
Negotiating a meal at such a formal table could be tricky if you were unfamiliar with the etiquette. Valentina had attended many over the years and was well aware of how to manage. She felt a little bad that she hadn’t thought to coach Gisele on the ins and outs of dining at a royal dinner, and she was curious to see how Parker would do.
But true to form, he handled each course like a pro. And he conversed with the seatmate on his other side almost as if Valentina wasn’t even there. Which made her feel a bit jealous. But just as the third course of salmon was delivered, she felt his left hand come to rest atop her thigh. She was fairly certain that didn’t meet with royal dining protocol, but... It felt warm and appropriate right there, with him possessively stroking her leg with his thumb. He continued to chat with the woman to his right as Valentina talked to the minister of something or other who was seated to her left. As necessary throughout the course of the evening, Parker would remove his hand so that he could cut his meat or whatever was being served. But then he would discreetly slip it right back afterward. Occasionally they’d exchange casual conversation.
“The roast is delicious,” he would say with a wink, and she would try to figure out if there was some double entendre there.
“I’ve been dying for something sweet,” she said as dessert was finally served. “You?”
“I was thinking something wet would be even more refreshing.”
And Valentina’s eyes grew wide, because there was no mistaking what he meant by that.
She choked as she took a large sip of her after-dinner wine, which was far sweeter than she wanted.
“Um, yes,” she said, unable to come up with anything else.
“What about you, Valentina? Something a little firmer perhaps?”
She glanced to her left and his right, hoping like hell no one had heard him say those things to her.
“I understand the after-dinner liqueurs will be taken in another room,” she said. “Perhaps then I can give you a little tour of more private parts of the gallery.”
It was Parker’s turn to choke. “I’d like that,” he said after clearing his throat. “Shall I bring my topcoat?”
She shook her head. “I think we’ll have plenty of body heat without it.”
So much for not knowing what to do about Parker Hornsby.
Chapter Nineteen
Parker could not wait to unload his snifter of brandy and watched closely to see when Valentina began to migrate away from the room. He gave it a minute, set his glass down, then followed in that direction. His sister was engrossed in intense conversation with Tomasso Romeo, so he had the presence of mind to shoot her a quick text.
“If you can’t find me when you’re ready to leave, just catch a ride back with Tomasso,” he wrote.
“You up to no good?” she texted back.
“With any luck.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That is so not the thing to say to your brother. I never want you to do anything that I might do. Ever. Even if it’s clean and legal and aboveboard.”
“Okay then, have fun with Valentina!” She added a few heart emojis for emphasis. Ugh.
“I never said I was going to be with Valentina.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Parker.”
Parker turned his phone to silent and slipped off down a corridor marked Do Not Enter, hoping like hell Valentina wasn’t playing a trick on him and ready to have him sent to the gallows for crimes against the state.
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~*~
After turning down one corridor and then another, he came upon Valentina standing before a very large portrait—some five feet high and a good eleven feet long—of a naked man and woman entwined in half recline on a sumptuous and elaborately carved bed, a decrepit elderly woman spying on them behind a cracked door while hushing her little dog.
“Two Lovers,” she said. “By Giulio Romano. Painted in the sixteenth century. The work is on loan from the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg. Romano is said to have apprenticed with Raphael in Rome, and he took over Raphael’s workshop upon his death. Romano famously fled Rome for Mantua for fear of persecution from the Catholic Church over a book in which he illustrated a series of images depicting sexual positions. Eventually it became a bestseller in Europe, which goes to show yet again that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
Parker raised an eyebrow. “Racy fellow, this Romano.”
“What can I say? He’s Italian of course.”
“And Italians make better lovers?”
“You’ll have to decide that for yourself,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Two Lovers, which some say features Zeus, others Ares, was a commissioned work that disappeared for a few hundred years until it showed up at the Hermitage. Even then still considered indecent, it wasn’t until about a hundred years ago that it was included in gallery catalogs.”
“Shame for something so beautiful—and erotic—to be kept out of reach.”
“Maybe makes it all the better when it becomes available.”
“I can see how it might have been considered salacious back then,” he said with an approving grin that let her know he found it to be perfectly entertaining. “Particularly considering where her hand is.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Kind of reminds me of something.”
Valentina blushed. The woman in the portrait’s hand was sliding beneath a sheet that barely covered the man’s penis. Awfully familiar to the two of them, all things considered.
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