by Nina Milne
‘Sorry.’ She let go, nearly leapt backwards.
‘It is I who should apologise. I did not see you behind the pillar.’
As she looked up at the owner of the Italian-tinged voice, Wow sprang to the forefront of her brain and flashed in neon. This man was seriously gorgeous. Obsidian-black hair, a little bit overlong with a rebellious spikiness. Silver-grey eyes, a face that demonstrated strength, the nose a broad arrogant jut, the jaw square and determined. His body was solid muscle packed into a beautifully cut tux that moulded to said muscles.
Emily blinked, realised the wow factor had derailed her. Completely. On the plus side the hormonal surge seemed to have also shocked panic into retreat. Say something.
‘I was just...’ looking at your muscles ‘...preparing to enter the fray.’ Really, Emily? Great opener.
‘So this evening is a battle? An ordeal?’ There was a hint of amusement in his voice but for a mad moment she also sensed an empathy.
‘No. Of course not. I am thrilled to be here to celebrate such a happy occasion.’
‘But?’
‘There is no but. Or at least... I guess I am a little nervous. I haven’t been on the social scene that much recently and...’ And now she needed to stop talking. ‘Anyway...’
‘Let me introduce myself.’ The deep Italian-tinged voice sent a trickle of warmth straight through her even as her brain registered its meaning and finally managed to put two and two together. His identity clicked as he held out his hand. ‘I am Luca Petrovelli.’
Of course—clearly her brain had turned to mush. The accent should have alerted her as soon as he spoke and, now she knew, she could see some elusive fleeting resemblance to Ava. Though she wasn’t sure how or where—Ava was blonde, beautiful and an ex-supermodel. Luca’s hair was midnight dark and his face was all lines and planes, his body all muscle. Solid, compact breadth of muscle. There was that word again and this was ridiculous. Her interest in the opposite sex was currently non-existent; her libido had buried itself under layers, strata of misery. Yet this man had poleaxed her. Comprehensively.
And she still hadn’t shaken hands. ‘I’m Emily.’
Luca’s brow creased for a second. ‘I know we haven’t met, but you look familiar.’
Emily sighed. She was used to this, even when she omitted giving her surname, as was her wont. People ‘knew’ her because of her parentage—because she was the daughter of Marigold Turner and Rajiv Khatri. One of the world’s most iconic models and a Bollywood film star respectively. Emily was the product of their brief marriage. Clearly brief ill-fated marriages ran in the family. At least on her mother’s side. Marigold was currently on husband number five; Emily would have the sense to stop at one. Alternatively, Luca might know her because of Howard.
‘It’s likely something to do with my parents or maybe my ex.’
As she said the words he snapped his fingers. ‘Got it! I visited the Dolci head offices this morning. I think Ava has a photo of you in her collage of photos on the wall.’
Oh. ‘Sorry. I am so used to people asking me about my famous parents or what it feels like to have been married to a genius that I assumed that’s why you would recognise me.’ After all, why else would he?
‘In which case, I promise not to ask any of those questions. Tell me instead how you met Ava.’ Surprise touched her—Luca wasn’t even going to ask who her parents were, though, thinking about it, she supposed it was natural for Luca to ask about Ava. They were siblings, however complicated the situation was.
‘A few years ago, back when Ava was a model, I was one of the fashion photographers on her shoot. We just clicked.’
Now he smiled and Emily blinked. The man had already awoken her long dormant hormones—now his smile had them doing aerobics. ‘It’s good when you just click,’ he said, and his voice deepened to a rumble that slid over her skin. Was he flirting? Could she blame him?
Somehow, without even noticing, she seemed to have closed the gap between them, was, oh, so close, too close. Near enough that the expensive hint of his soap tickled her nostrils, close enough that she could see the faintest hint of five o’clock shadow, study the thick gloss of his dark hair. And again her thought processes were derailed. Quickly she stepped backward.
‘Yes. Yes, it is. What do you think makes people click?’ No, no, no. That had come out all wrong. Now it sounded as if she were flirting. Was she? What was happening? How and why was this man affecting her so powerfully? She could almost feel more of her hormones yawn and stretch as they woke up for the first time in months. She ploughed on hurriedly. ‘With Ava and me, we shared a sense of humour, found it easy to talk to each other, so we grabbed a coffee together and then it snowballed from there.’
‘I agree a sense of humour is important and, of course, ease of conversation. For friendship or any sort of relationship. Though, of course, other things are important too.’
‘Such as?’
‘First impressions. A sense of instant connection. In a relationship, mutual attraction.’
‘Pah!’ The noise somewhere between a snort of derision and a puff of exasperation left her lips and he raised his eyebrows.
‘Pah?’ he repeated.
‘Yes. You are talking about how a person looks.’ Her mother had been feted and glorified for her beauty. Men tumbled head over heels for Marigold Turner but it never lasted, no relationship ever made it past the attraction—once reality kicked in they slowly faded away. Yet with every man Marigold waxed lyrical about ‘instant attraction’, ‘magnetic pull’ and, of course, ‘love at first sight’.
Hell, Emily could date her childhood years by husbands’ number two to four. At the start of each ‘magical romance’ Marigold had ‘known’ this was ‘the one’ and Emily had been relegated, encouraged to fade to the background of her mother’s life. Remembered pain at the sense of isolation, the hurt at knowing she was seen as an obstacle, tingled inside her.
‘Darling, I need you to keep out of the way. I don’t want Kevin to think you’re a nuisance.’
‘Sorry, sweetheart, I know I promised I’d read you a bedtime story...come to Sports Day...but Alex is more important.’
Yet when each relationship ended in the slam of the door as each husband left, Marigold would turn to her daughter for solace and comfort and Emily would help pick up the pieces of her mother’s shattered heart. Time and again ‘instant attraction’ had translated to ‘later misery’.
Now she glared at Luca. ‘Looks don’t matter.’
‘I disagree. First impressions count. Do you not judge people by the way they dress or the way they cut their hair or...?’
The size of their muscles? asked a small sly inner voice that she shushed instantly.
‘Of course, I don’t. Because if you get all caught up in that you forget what is important. And that’s what is inside. Attraction isn’t enough to make a relationship work. Not in the long term.’ Her father’s second marriage was proof of that. Neela was the antithesis to his first wife; she wasn’t beautiful, just...ordinary and the marriage had been content. They had five children and she knew her dad was happy. So happy that Emily felt a bit redundant. Someone he’d seen once or twice a year during her childhood, and during those visits Emily had felt out of place. In the hurly burly rough and tumble of a real family life, she’d been an invisible outsider, an extra accorded a politeness due to a guest.
But that was beside the point. ‘Attraction is too...distracting.’ Which presumably explained why her gaze continued to dwell on the breadth of his chest, the lithe swell of his forearm, the clean strength of his jawline. If she could kick herself, she would.
Luca watched her carefully and now his lips tipped up, his grey eyes lit with a hint of amusement. ‘A happy distraction, or a start point—that initial spark is...exhilarating.’
‘I...’ Now their gazes seemed to mesh; her lips went su
ddenly dry and it felt as though the edges of the world fuzzed, to leave only Luca and Emily in the room. Madness. But, mad or not, she couldn’t seem to break free of the sheer tug of desire that pulled her feet, urged them to move closer to him. ‘I suppose so.’
She forced herself to break the gaze only to find herself focused on his lips, firm, strong and such a defined shape. She’d never studied the shape of a man’s lips before, the contours, never wanted to touch, to smooth her fingers over a mouth.
Enough. There was going to be no clicking of any kind going on. ‘So,’ she said. ‘I guess it’s time to circulate.’
‘To enter the fray,’ he said in echo of her earlier words.
‘Yes.’ Reluctance gripped her and without meaning to she sighed. Once again she wished she had a camera with her to render her invisible.
‘You have no need to be nervous.’ The nerves she’d alluded to, the nerves that had completely vanished during their conversation. Replaced by the cartwheel of her hormones, the spark of attraction and the sparkle of an interesting conversation with an undercurrent of simmer. A happy distraction indeed.
‘I think I do. There are a lot of people out there with a preconceived opinion of me, who have already made judgement.’ Her voice was imbued with a hint of bitterness as she scanned the room. Recalled the number of people who had already avoided her emails and calls.
‘Does it matter?’ His tone was serious now. ‘Surely the only people whose opinions matter are the people you care about. And who care about you.’
In theory that held good, but, ‘You’re right. I know you are, but when I see the pity or the judgement in people’s faces I...’
‘Crumble inside a little?’ he offered.
‘Yes.’ How did Luca know? And how on earth had this conversation with a stranger got so personal? The idea sent unease through her—no way should she be sharing on a personal level with a complete stranger, even if he was Ava’s half-brother. In this case especially because he was Ava’ s half-brother.
‘When you feel like that you need to remember it is their problem, not yours. Show them they are wrong. Wrong to pity you and wrong in their judgement.’ There was a resonance in his voice and a shadow crossed his features. Then, as if he too sensed that the conversation had edged into deep waters, he shrugged and there came that smile again. ‘It also helps to imagine the people you are most worried about making silly faces or dressed in absurd costumes. Or in embarrassing situations.’
‘Do you do that?’
‘Absolutely.’
Now she chuckled. ‘Is that what you are going to do now?’ It sounded as if he spoke from experience, yet she couldn’t imagine this man being worried by anyone.
‘If need be, absolutely. I am sure there are plenty of people out there who have judged me too, as the evil villain, the usurper of the Dolci inheritance.’
‘Ava doesn’t believe that.’ She knew her best friend didn’t hold Luca to blame at all.
‘Perhaps, perhaps not. But either way I am here to try to help further Dolci business interests. But now I have also had the pleasure of meeting you.’ He smiled and held out his hand. ‘I wish you luck in the fray.’
‘Th...’ She placed her hand in his and bit back a small gasp, told herself that electricity could not be generated by touch. Yet she saw an answering awareness flicker in his eyes. Her hand remained in his and for one mad second she wondered if he would kiss it in some quixotic gesture of gallantry. The idea tingled her skin and of their own volition her feet took a step closer to him.
The noise of a throat clearing broke the spell and she pulled away her hand as Luca let go and they turned towards the man who now stood next to them. Emily flushed as she realised she hadn’t even noticed his approach.
‘Liam,’ she said hurriedly as she moved towards Ava’s fiancé, kissed him on one cheek and then stood back. She had a lot of time for Liam, knew him to be a good, honourable man who truly loved her best friend. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’
Was there a glint of speculation in his eyes as he glanced from Luca to her? She could only hope not as she watched the two men shake hands, sensed the wariness in Luca’s stance. Knew from Ava that the two men had only met once, that it had been Liam who had taken Luca around Dolci headquarters that morning.
‘Ava asked me to tell you her mum has arrived, and she wondered if you want to get the introductions out of the way sooner rather than later.’
Now Luca’s wariness froze into something Emily couldn’t identify, though she imagined his feelings could only be negative about Karen Casseveti, the woman who had supplanted his own mother. As for Karen, it was well known that she couldn’t stand Luca or his sister, Jodi. So this meeting wouldn’t be welcome to either.
‘Of course,’ Luca said.
‘I’ll leave you to it...’
‘Actually no,’ Liam intervened. ‘Ava thought it may look more natural if we mingle as a group. If you both don’t mind?’
Luca hesitated and then gave a decisive nod. ‘That makes sense. If that is OK with Emily.’
‘Of course.’ Emily knew how good her friend was at orchestrating publicity and managing social occasions. ‘I’m happy to help.’
‘Then let’s go,’ Luca said.
CHAPTER TWO
LUCA CONCENTRATED ON keeping his expression neutral; this was a moment he had known would come. The meeting with Ava’s mother, the woman who had taken James Casseveti away. It was not Karen Casseveti’s fault, he reminded himself; it had been his father’s choice to walk away, his father’s choice to not even visit his children from his first marriage, to paint them out of his new life. Yet it was impossible not to feel some animosity.
Probably best to focus on something else, or perhaps someone, and a person came all too easily to mind. Emily, the woman at his side. From the minute he’d seen her he’d been a little on edge, a little too aware of her. Too caught up in her smile, the elusive scent, and the ripples of awareness, the undeniable tug and pull of attraction. One he’d do best to douse. Emily was Ava’s best friend; that put her strictly out of bounds. It was all complicated enough. But still his curiosity was piqued. Why did she see this crowd as a fray? Why hadn’t she been on the social scene for a while?
And in the here and now he could feel the warmth of her body next to him, and somehow it helped as they made their way through the throng of people—Emily’s own reluctance to ‘enter the fray’ made her feel like an ally.
One he was in need of as they approached their destination and anger surged and simmered inside him. Grow up, Petrovelli.
Luca tried to remember his own mother’s advice. ‘Do not show anger or hatred or bitterness, Luca. This woman is much to be pitied right now. She has lost her husband and in truth I am not sure she ever had him.’ His mother had shown him the letter she had received on James Casseveti’s death, a letter etched on Luca’s memory.
Dear Therese,
I am sorry...
Sorry I behaved as I did.
Please know I have thought of you every day since I left and never stopped loving you. I know I did wrong, and sometimes I imagine the life we could have had...wonder if I could have started Dolci with you by my side, or whether that even matters.
I gained wealth and business success but I lost you. As I have grown older I realise that in the end I also lost out. On watching our children grow up, on growing old with a woman I truly love.
All I can do now is to try and make amends with an apology to you and by leaving Luca and Jodi a legacy.
James
As he’d read the words, he had felt a surge of protective love for her, laced with anger at James. An apology that was too little, too late because Therese had never got over her husband’s desertion. She’d tried a few relationships but had never been able to commit. He’d heard her once tell a man that she couldn’t put herself, couldn’
t put her children through the possibility of another break-up. Not unless she was sure it was really worth it, and she couldn’t see that any man was.
Turned out no woman was worth it either. His own first and only love had left him for a man more sophisticated and wealthy than Luca. A repeat of history with a twist. The lesson reinforced: people he loved abandoned him. Wealth and position trumped love. Always. An image of Lydia shimmered into his brain and he banished it. All she had been was proof that love was a crock—nothing was worth that level of pain if you lost it.
Per carità, Luca. Not now, for goodness’ sake. This was not the moment to dwell on the past; as the thought crossed his mind he was aware of the gentlest of nudges from next to him. ‘You OK?’ Emily’s voice was whisper thin.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Good. You’ve got this.’
He glanced across at her and she smiled and for an instant the word ‘arrested’ took on new meaning; this woman literally stunned him. Shoulder-length straight hair, near black with a tinge of chestnut highlight, flawless brown skin and eyes with a depth of umber. Her nose gave her face character, her mouth generous. Then even as his brain registered bedazzlement her expression morphed and he blinked as she crossed her eyes and stuck out the tip of her tongue.
His puzzlement switched to instant understanding, her funny face a reminder of his own words from earlier—in a difficult situation imagine whoever is giving you grief pulling a silly face or in an embarrassing position. Now he couldn’t help but smile back at her, warmed by her gesture of solidarity and a strange sense of camaraderie, given she didn’t even know him.
He braced himself as they approached Ava and Karen; Ava stood next to her mother and he could see the family likeness, though he could also see an unsettling resemblance in Ava to his sister Jodi. Suddenly he wished Jodi were here by his side, instead of God knew where after her trip to Jalpura. Not now. He’d figure out what to do about Jodi later. Plus his sister would hate this gathering with every iota of her being. Edginess lined his gut as he forced his lips into a parody of an upturn.