The Italian's Forbidden Virgin (Mills & Boon Modern) (Those Notorious Romanos, Book 2)

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Actually,’ she cut in swiftly, ‘I would like some refreshments after all. Perhaps, given the hour, some champagne is in order.’ Her pussycat smile was triumphant as she prevented him ending their conversation.

  Ever the consummate host, Gian nodded politely. ‘Naturalmente.’ He pressed the intercom. ‘Luna, would you please bring in champagne for myself and Ariana.’

  Ariana’s smile remained. No doubt, Gian assumed, she was thinking she had won, but what she did not quite understand was that Gian was always and absolutely one step ahead. Luna had worked at La Fiordelise even before his family had died and knew his nuances well. It was often what was not said that counted, and right at this moment Vincenzo, the bar manager, would be pouring two glasses of French champagne.

  A bottle and ice bucket would not be arriving.

  This was no tête-à-tête.

  ‘I have brought my résumé,’ Ariana said, digging in her suede designer cinnamon bag and producing a document, which she handed to him. He took it without a word and as he read through it, Gian found again that he fought an incredulous smile.

  For someone who had practically never worked a day in her life, Ariana Romano had an impressive résumé indeed.

  At least, it read well. She had studied hospitality and tourism management, although he knew that already. Naturally, she was on the Romano Board, and on the Romano Foundation Board too.

  As well as that were listed all the luncheons, balls and functions which Ariana claimed to have planned and organised singlehandedly. Except—

  ‘Ariana, you do not “create, design and implement the theme for the annual Romano Foundation Ball,”’ Gian said, and used his fingers to quote directly from her résumé. ‘My staff do.’

  ‘Well, I have major input.’

  ‘No, Ariana, you don’t. In fact, you barely show up for the meetings.’

  ‘I always attend.’

  ‘I can have Luna retrieve the minutes of them if you like. You rarely show up and you don’t even bother to send an apology. The fact is you consistently let people down.’

  ‘Excuse me!’ Ariana reared, unused to him speaking so harshly, for, though cold, Gian was always polite.

  Except here, today, they had entered unknown territory.

  Usually when they discussed the Romano Ball, given the fact she was Rafael’s daughter, Ariana’s suggestions were tolerated, lauded even. Now, though, Gian refused to play the usual game of applauding her inaction, or nodding as she reeled off one of her less-than-well-thought-out ideas. He picked last year’s ball as an example. ‘You said you were thinking “along the lines of silver” and no doubt went off to plan your gown.’

  He watched her lips press tightly together. Even clamped shut, Ariana had a very pretty mouth, but he quickly dragged his attention away from that thought and back to the point he was trying to make. ‘Following your suggestion, my staff created a silver world, whereas you did nothing more than turn up on the night...’ he held her angry gaze ‘...in a silver gown.’

  ‘How nice that you remember what I was wearing,’ Ariana retorted.

  ‘Call it an educated guess.’

  Ouch!

  Suddenly, under his withering gaze, in this private meeting she had demanded, Ariana felt as gauche and naive as the virgin she was, rather than the temptress she portrayed. ‘Well, I was the one who came up with a forest theme for this year,’ Ariana reminded him.

  ‘Tell me,’ Gian pushed, ‘what have you done to help implement the forest theme, apart from choose the fabric for your gown?’

  Ariana opened her mouth to answer and then closed it. He watched her shoulders briefly slump in defeat, but then she rallied. ‘I suggested ivy around the pillars in the ballroom.’

  He looked as unimpressed with her suggestion as he had at the board meeting, Ariana thought. But, then, Gian considered decorations and themes and such somewhat vulgar.

  ‘And berries,’ Ariana hurriedly. ‘I suggested a berry dessert. Fruits of the forest...’

  Gian did not so much as blink; he just stared at her pretty, empty head.

  Only...that wasn’t right, and he knew it.

  Ariana, when she so chose, was perceptive and clever, but he refused to relent. ‘What about last month, December, the hotel’s busiest time, and you reserved the Pianoforte Bar for yourself and your friends’ exclusive use, yet forgot to let Reservations know that it was no longer required.’

  ‘You were paid,’ Ariana interrupted. ‘My father—’

  ‘Precisely.’ It was Gian who now interrupted. ‘Your father took care of things. It is so very typical of you, Ariana. If something better comes along, then that is where your attention goes.’

  ‘No!’ Ariana shook her head, angrily at first but then in sudden bewilderment because he was usually so polite. ‘Why are you speaking to me like this, Gian?’

  ‘So that you understand completely why my answer to your request is no.’

  It sounded as if he meant it, and Ariana wasn’t particularly used to that so she tried another tack. ‘I studied hospitality and—’

  ‘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 there, and in several other hotels as well, but each time it was in return for some media coverage. I really don’t want cameras following me on my first day.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ While he understood that, the rest he didn’t get. ‘What are you hoping to achieve by this, Ariana?’

  ‘More than I am right now,’ she said, and gave a hollow laugh.

  He looked at her then.

  Properly looked.

  Ariana was, of course, exquisitely beautiful, with a delicate bone structure, but he suddenly noticed that rather than the trademark black eyes of her father and brothers, or the icy blue ones of her mother, Ariana’s eyes were a deep navy-violet, almost as if they’d tried to get from blue to black, but had surrendered just shy of arrival.

  Gian rather wished he hadn’t noticed the beguiling colour of them and rapidly diverted his gaze back to her résumé.

  ‘Why don’t you formally interview me?’ Ariana suggested. ‘As if we don’t know each other. Surely you can do that?’

  ‘Of course, but if you want an honest interview, what happens if you are not successful?’ She wouldn’t be, he knew, but as he looked up she held his gaze as she answered.

  ‘Then I shall walk away, knowing I tried.’

  Walk away, Gian wanted to warn her, for there was a sudden energy between them that could never end well.

  He scanned through her supposed work experience and attempted to wipe out a lifetime of history so they could face each other as two strangers. In the end, he reverted to his usual interview technique. ‘Tell me about a recent time when you had to deal with a difficult client or contact...’

  She wouldn’t be able to, Gian was certain.

  ‘Well...’ Ariana thought for a moment. ‘I wanted an interview with the owner of a very prestigious hotel, but I did not want to utilise my family contacts as I felt that would do me no favours.’

  Gian felt his lips tighten when it became clear that she was speaking about trying to get in contact with him. ‘Ariana,’ he cut in, ‘may I suggest that you don’t make the person interviewing you the difficult contact.’

  ‘But he was difficult. My goal was to get a full audience,’ Ariana continued, ‘and so I sent in my résumé, but when I heard nothing back...’

  ‘You sent in an application?’ Gian started scrolling through his computer, almost apologetic now, because an application from Ariana Romano should have been flagged—at the very least so he could personally reject her. ‘Vanda has been on leave over the festive period...’ He paused, for he could find nothing. ‘When did you send it?’

  ‘This morning,’ Ariana replied, and then took a sip of her champagne.

  ‘This morning.’ Gian sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He looked upon the epitome of instant gratification. When Ariana wanted something she wanted it now!

  ‘So, when I heard nothing back, I printed off my résumé and took it to him personally.’

  ‘And what was the result?’

  ‘I made him smile,’ Ariana said.

  ‘No,’ Gian corrected, ‘you didn’t.’

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘Not even close.’ He let out a breath as he tried to hold onto patience. ‘Ariana, you asked for a proper interview, so treat it as if we’ve never met. Now, tell me about a time you were able to deal successfully with another person even when you may not have liked them.’

  ‘Okay...’ She chewed her bottom lip and thought for less than a moment. ‘My father was recently given a terminal diagnosis. He still has months to live,’ she added rather urgently, ‘but...’ She swallowed, for Ariana could not bear to think of a time months from now and dragged her mind back to the present. ‘I am not a fan of his new wife.’

  ‘Ariana, I am asking about professional—’

  ‘However,’ she cut in, ‘I spoke calmly to her and said that I would like to be part of all interviews with the doctors and that for his sake, we should at least be polite.’

  Curiosity got the better of him. ‘How is that working out?’

  She gave a snooty sniff and re-crossed her legs. ‘We’ve both kept our sides of the agreement.’

  Gian rather doubted it. Ariana and Mia were a toxic mix indeed! ‘I was actually hoping you could give me examples that involve work, Ariana.’

  ‘Oh, believe me,’ she countered. ‘Mia is work.’

  Gian just wanted this charade over and done with. Both their glasses were nearly empty so he would ask one more question and then send her on her precocious way. ‘Tell me about a time where you did something for someone else, not to earn favour, and without
letting them know.’

  ‘That would defeat the purpose,’ Ariana deftly answered, ‘if I later use it in an interview to show how benevolent I am.’

  He liked her answer. In fact, were it a real interview, it might score her points, except he wasn’t sure that Ariana wasn’t simply being evasive. ‘It’s an important question, Ariana,’ he told her. ‘The role of Guest Services is to make a stay at La Fiordelise appear seamlessly unique. The aim is that our guests never know the work that goes on behind the scenes. So,’ he added, ‘I would like an honest answer.’

  ‘Very well.’ She was hesitant, though, for to tell him revealed more than she cared to. ‘My brother...’ She tried to remember that this was an interview and she should treat Gian as if he were a stranger. ‘My twin brother, Stefano, is to marry soon—at the end of May.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I have been somewhat excluded from the wedding plans.’

  ‘Despite your extensive planning experience,’ he added rather drily.

  ‘Despite that!’ Ariana answered crisply. ‘They have decided that they don’t need my help.’

  He saw the jut of her chin and that her hands were rigid in her lap, and suddenly Gian did not like the question he had asked, for he could see it was hurting her to answer.

  ‘Eloa,’ Ariana continued, ‘Stefano’s fiancée, had her heart set on the wedding being held at Palazzo Pamphili...’

  ‘Where the Brazilian Embassy is housed.’ Gian nodded. He knew it well, for the superb building was across the square from the hotel, and even with his connections he knew how hard it would be to arrange a wedding there.

  ‘I sorted it,’ Ariana said.

  ‘How?’ Gian frowned, quietly impressed.

  ‘That is for me to know,’ Ariana responded. ‘However, to this day, Eloa and Stefano think that they arranged the reception venue by themselves.’

  ‘You haven’t told them that you were behind it?’

  ‘No. They have made it clear they don’t want my help and it might sour things for them to know I had a hand in it.’

  She watched as he put down her résumé and she continued to watch his long fingers join and arch into a steeple. He slowly drew a breath and Ariana felt certain that he had not been persuaded, and that she was about to be told that his answer was still no. ‘I really do want to work, Gian.’ There was a slightly frantic note to her voice, which she fought to quash, but there was also desperation in her eyes that she could not hide. ‘I love the hotel industry and, you’re right, I should have done my placement here...’ It wasn’t just that, though. ‘I want some real independence. I’m tired of—’ She stopped herself, sure that Gian did not need to hear it.