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

She wouldn’t be the first in her family to act in her own interests and keep it secret, were she to become his mistress, but despite how she felt about Gian, she could not reconcile herself to it. Not now she was finally becoming someone she could be proud of.

‘You’re not ready!’ Nicki frowned, when she saw Ariana dressed in a pale grey dress and flat sandals and with her hair wild and her eyes all puffy and swollen.

‘Actually, I am ready,’ Ariana corrected. She had been up all night, completing the finishing touches to gifts for her loved ones, and she had worked through the day, only stopping to refuel with coffee, thinking about what must be done. ‘Come in, Nicki.’

It was up there with the hardest things she had ever done, because Ariana had truly thought of Nicki as a forever friend. Confronted with the evidence of what she had done, Nicki attacked her friend, and Ariana didn’t have the energy to muster a defence against the tirade of abuse she was subjected to. Instead she listened and then said, ‘I think you should leave now.’

‘But we have the wedding tomorrow,’ Nicki flailed. ‘It’ll look odd if I’m not there and we have our trip to Paris—’

‘I have a wedding tomorrow,’ Ariana interrupted. ‘You’re no longer welcome at Romano family events.’

It hurt and it hurt and it hurt, and once Nicki had gone, she cried for a while. But Ariana wanted this chapter of her life firmly closed, which meant that she had to tell Dante and Mia that it had been her friend who had invaded their privacy and outed them to the press.

And in turn they would tell Gian.

Only that wasn’t right, Ariana knew. It wasn’t up to Dante to tidy up after her. It was her friend who had caused this, and it was Ariana’s mess to clean up. With that thought in mind, she grabbed a wrapped parcel from her bed. She had intended to mail it, but that was a cop-out and so she walked, or rather marched, her way down cobbled lanes and packed streets then pushed through the gorgeous brass door of La Fiordelise and towards his office, where she was met by his gatekeeper, Luna.

‘Gian is in a meeting at the moment,’ Luna said.

‘It’s my fault for arriving unannounced...’ Ariana shook her dizzy head ‘...but if he can spare me a moment when he’s done it would be very much appreciated.’

‘Of course.’ Luna nodded. ‘Would you like some refreshments while you wait?’

Ariana guessed she was being sent to the Pianoforte Bar, or, as his lovers should name it, the Relegation Bar, and her braveness evaporated. ‘It’s fine.’ Ariana had changed her mind. ‘I’ll catch up with him another time.’

‘No, no...’ Luna said, and it dawned on her that she was not being sent to the Pianoforte Bar. Instead, Luna gently suggested that she freshen up and pointed her towards a powder room. ‘Still or sparkling?’ she asked.

‘Sorry?’ Ariana frowned.

‘Acqua,’ Luna said patiently. ‘Would you like still or sparkling?’

She must thank Luna one day, Ariana thought as she splashed her face with water and ran a comb through her hair, because she still had a morsel of pride left, enough to know she had been saved from facing him looking so terrible.

Terrible.

Ariana hadn’t so much as glanced in a mirror since her confrontation with Nicki. It looked as if she’d rolled out of bed this morning and just pulled a dress on.

She had.

As if she hadn’t brushed her hair.

She hadn’t.

Her skin was all pale and blotchy, and her lips were swollen from crying so there was no point painting her usual red lipstick on. Still, she was grateful for the reprieve and the chance to freshen up somewhat, as Luna would no doubt have told him that yet another of his exes had shown up in a state of distress...

No, not she!

‘I have Ariana Romano in Reception, asking to see you.’

Gian was just packing up his laptop, about to head to Florence. He had no time for theatrics. And yet, with each day that passed, he found that he missed the colour she had brought to his world, the drama and emotion she always brought to his table, to his bed...

He wanted them.

It had been hell missing his friend’s wedding because, despite his supposed lack in the heart department, under any other circumstances he would have moved heaven and earth to have been there.

‘I can tell her that you are due to fly out—’

‘It’s fine,’ Gian cut in.

‘I should warn you then, Gian, she seems distressed...’

‘Was she short with you?’ Gian asked, almost hopefully, because if Ariana was throwing her weight around with his staff, he could at least be aggrieved, but Luna shook her head.

‘Of course not. Ariana is always polite with me.’ Luna suddenly laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Ariana always makes me smile,’ Luna said. ‘Anyway, I’m just letting you know that it looks as if she’s been crying.’

He nodded and nudged a leather-covered box of tissues to her side of the desk in preparation for her arrival. ‘Send her through.’

Gian was certain he knew what this would be about. It had been a few months since the funeral, and there had been the ball, and of course what had taken place in her kitchen. Whatever way he looked at it, Gian was sure he was about to be told he was to be a father.

Yes, there were always consequences, and not once, but on three separate occasions he had not taken the level of care he usually would, relying on her to take the Pill. It was his own fault entirely and he would handle this with grace, even if a pregnancy was everything he had always dreaded.

Gian did not know how he felt.

When she arrived in his office, she was most un-Ariana-like.

Her dress was crumpled, her espadrilles tied haphazardly, her hair,