The Italian's Forbidden Virgin (Mills & Boon Modern) (Those Notorious Romanos, Book 2) Carol Marinelli (ebook reader with built in dictionary .TXT) 📖

supposed to bring...’ She held up her free hand in an exasperated gesture. ‘I’ve been standing on a platform at Roma Termini, waiting for a courier to deliver them.’

‘It’s fine.’ He tried not to want her; he tried to treat her as he once would have. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘I don’t have time for a drink,’ Ariana pointed out. ‘I have to be greeting guests in a couple of hours. What did you want to see me about?’

He was silent for a moment as he poured his own drink while wondering how best to broach things. ‘Mia is here.’

‘So?’ Ariana shrugged and turned to go. ‘What do I care? There was no need to drag me to your office. You could have told me that in a text.’

‘Yes.’ He watched the tension in her jaw and the press of her lips and knew she was struggling to process the news. Aside from that, there was also a whole lot more she didn’t know.

Dante and Mia had the adjoining presidential suites.

And Dante had the key.

Yes, Gian De Luca was the keeper of many secrets and at times it was hell. ‘I want to speak to you,’ he said. ‘About tonight.’

‘You’re going to tell me to behave and be nice. Don’t worry. I’ve already had the lecture from Dante. Poor Mia is struggling to face us all tonight. Poor Mia—’

‘Ariana!’ He spoke more harshly then, but that was like holding up a red rag to a bull, Gian knew, for nothing tamed her. ‘Do you remember how you felt at your father’s funeral, as if everything might get out of hand? Well, Mia is surely feeling that way...’

‘Poor Mia, you mean.’ She looked at him then, really looked, and she could see the fan of lines beside his eyes and feel his tension. She assumed he was concerned about Mia; it never entered her head that his concern might be for her. ‘Why do you always take her side?’ Ariana asked, jealousy rearing its ugly head. ‘Don’t tell me you have a thing for her too...’ She simply could not bear it if that was the case, and spite got the better of her. ‘Well, I guess at least she’s closer to your age than Papà’s.’

‘Enough!’ Gian cut in. ‘Why do you have to be so petty and cruel whenever you speak about her?’

‘Because I hate her.’ Ariana shrugged. ‘And I hate it that my parents divorced. I’ll never forgive her.’

‘You forgave your father when it was he who had the affair. Mia, at the time, was single.’

‘Stop it,’ Ariana said, loathing his logic. ‘And please stop telling me what to think and how to feel. We slept with each other once—that doesn’t give you licence to police my friends and now how I interact with my family.’

‘You’re insufferable, Ariana.’ He strode over and took her bare arms. He wanted to shake some sense into her, but even as he scolded her Gian actually understood her anger more than she knew.

Ariana was only ever given half-truths.

Or a quarter.

Or an eighth.

The Romanos were masters at smoke and mirrors and Ariana had grown up stumbling blind through their labyrinth of lies, and he loathed it that he was only giving her a tiny sliver of the truth now.

‘I’m trying...’ He held on to his words, because if he said one thing more it might well be too much. ‘I’m trying to ensure that this night goes well.’

‘Have you delivered Mia this pre-function lecture?’ Ariana goaded. ‘Have Stefano and Dante been summoned too? No!’ She answered for him. ‘Because you don’t trust me.’

‘No, because I—’ Gian abruptly halted himself, because he didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he cared about Ariana more than he wanted to. ‘Because I know how you feel about Mia, and I also know that you want the night to be a success.’

‘Then we want the same thing,’ Ariana replied tartly.

They did indeed want the same thing and now they were face to face in no way that could be construed as professional.

She looked up at him through narrowed eyes. She wanted to exit in a huff, but his hands were on her bare arms and she liked the odd comfort of him, of someone, the first person ever, pulling her back before she went too far.

They were both breathing hard, as if they had just kissed.

Ariana looked at his mouth and unshaven jaw and felt his fingers holding the top of her arms. He turned her on so easily that she could feel the heat at the top of her legs, and the ache of her breasts in her flimsy bra. She knew he was hard, she just knew, the same way she did not need to look at the sky to know it was darkening.

‘Ariana,’ Gian said in a voice that sounded a touch gravelly, ‘if there are any issues tonight, then you are to come to me.’

She always did, Ariana realised.

Whether it was stolen chocolate, or her father’s widow showing up, she always leaned on Gian, yet she could not when it came to the urgent matter of her heart, for he was the one who was quietly stealing it.

‘I need to get on,’ Ariana croaked.

‘Of course,’ Gian politely agreed.

‘And you need to shave.’

When she had gone, Gian opened up the safe and took out the black box and envelope.

He would not break his own rules and deliberately did not look inside.

He would go and get ready and then drop off the gift to Mia, and then get through this night and once that was done, hopefully he wouldn’t have to see Ariana for some considerable time.

Except that was easier said than done. First he had to dance with her and hold her and for the first time ever he found he wanted someone in his life.

And so he reminded himself of all the reasons why he did not want someone in his life.

When he should have been meeting with the barber in his apartment