Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 by Carol Marinelli (desktop ebook reader txt) 📗

intending to bring her lover here. It was typical of Ariana to say she wanted a career, rather than a job. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I’ve given it a great deal of thought.’

‘And your career of choice?’

‘I would like to be Guest Services Manager here at La Fiordelise. Or rather I would like to be Guest Services Manager for your VIPs.’

‘All of my guests are VIPs, Ariana.’

‘You know what I mean.’

He had to consciously resist rolling his eyes. ‘Why would I simply hand you such a position when you have no experience? Why would I let you near my VIPs?’

‘Because I am one!’ Ariana retorted, but then rather hurriedly checked herself. ‘What I am trying to say is that I know their ways. Please, Gian. I really want this.’

Gian knew very well that whatever Ariana wanted, Ariana got—until she grew bored and dismissed it. Ariana should have been put over her father’s knee many years ago and learned the meaning of the word ‘no’. There was no way on God’s earth that she was going to play careers at his hotel. So, rather than go through the motions, he shook his head. ‘Ariana, let me stop you right there. While I appreciate—’

‘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.