The Italian's Forbidden Virgin (Mills & Boon Modern) (Those Notorious Romanos, Book 2) by Carol Marinelli (reading books for 4 year olds .txt) 📗

her to the centre, where it would seem it was a Brazilian tradition to dance around Eloa’s gold shoes. Really, Ariana had no idea what she was doing, but she swayed her hips and laughed and did a sort of Spanish flamenco around the shoe, tapping her feet and swishing the ruffles on her dress.

He had almost missed this, Gian thought when he saw her.

He had almost missed another Romano wedding and another night with people he could only now admit to himself were family.

The usually unruffled Luna had nearly thrown a fit when Gian had declared that he was flying back to Rome and asked if she could arrange it urgently, as well as a couple of other small assignments he wanted her to swiftly organise. ‘I need to be there tonight.’

Fortunately, Ariana had arranged the reception just across from La Fiordelise so, with his helicopter landing late into the night, it was a simple matter of checking everything was in place and feeding some official documents through the shredder.

Gian didn’t need reminders of the past.

It was a future he wanted now.

And with the past shredded, he walked across the square to Palazzo Pamphili and found, to his pleasant surprise, he was still on the guest list.

Walking through the grand building with its intricate ceilings and formal galleries, there was a moment to gather himself in such esteemed surroundings. It felt deserted, yet finally he could hear the laughter and merriment as if calling for him to join in. And even without his feelings for Ariana, it was right that he was there tonight for, perfect or not, these people had been more of a family to him than his own.

‘Gian!’ Dante caught up with him as he congratulated the bride and groom and apologised for arriving so late. ‘It is good that you made it.’

It was said completely without implication or malice that he had missed theirs, Gian knew; Dante and Mia were simply pleased to see him.

Gian was back in the fold, as easily as that, and he stood watching the celebrations for a moment, taking it all in. He did not have to strain to locate Ariana; she was completely unmissable, of course.

Dressed in red, she was the belle of the ball, dancing and laughing and having the time of her life, so much so that even Gian could not see the hurt he was certain resided within.

He wasn’t vain enough to believe it was all to do with him. There was the loss of her father, her relationship with her mother, Nicki, Stefano...

He was proud of his diva and her acting skills, proud of her resilience, and also aware of an unfamiliar sensation tightening his chest as she danced happily in another man’s arms.

And another!

Damn it, Ariana, Gian thought, I get it. Your life will go on without me, but please tone it down!

He had never cared about anyone enough to know jealousy before, yet he learned there and then to breathe through it, even smiling as she kicked up her heels.

No longer able to resist, he caught Ariana’s arm as she stamped past him, and saw how startled she was in her violet eyes when they locked with his.

Gian was here.

Damn!

Just as she did her best to move on and prove to herself she could party without him, the best-looking spanner in the world was suddenly thrown into the works.

‘I’m busy dancing,’ she told him, and reclaimed her arm.

‘It’s a Brazilian wedding, Ariana,’ he told her. ‘Not a Spanish one.’

‘I know that.’

‘Yet you’re doing the flamenco.’

‘So I am...’ Her heart was hammering because she could not quite believe that he was here. ‘These cachaças are very strong.’ She was trying to act normally, or rather how she would have acted a year ago at a family event when Gian De Luca suddenly showed up. ‘I thought you had to be at the La Fiordelise Florence, opening—’

‘I left early and gave myself the rest of the night off...’

‘Why are they all called La Fiordelise?’ she snapped. It had always annoyed her and she let him know tonight. ‘It’s hardly original.’

‘Your father said the same.’

‘Well, you should have listened to him. La Fiordelise, London. La Fiordelise, Azerbaijan...’ Gosh those cachaças must be strong, she thought, because she allowed a little of her resentment to seep out. ‘Perhaps you could send me there...’

He just smiled.

But it was a smile she had never seen before. Not his on-duty smile, or his off-duty one; it was just a smile that let her be, that simply accepted her as she was and, she felt, suddenly adored.

‘Hey, Ariana...’ Pedro was waving her to join in another odd-looking dance.

‘Your boyfriend is calling you to dance with him again,’ Gian said, and with those words let her know he’d been watching her for a while. ‘You’re very popular tonight.’

‘Yes, I am,’ Ariana said, and she’d never been happier to be caught dancing and smiling and laughing, even if she was bleeding inside. ‘I am in demand!’

‘Have you time to dance with me?’

No.

She had to practise saying no to him, had to have that tiny word fall readily from her tongue.

For. The. Rest. Of. Her. Life.

Except that tiny word felt far too big when she looked into those beautiful slate-grey eyes. She would start tomorrow, Ariana decided, and allow herself just one tiny dance tonight. ‘One dance,’ Ariana said, and found herself back in his arms. ‘For the sake of duty.’

Yet this was no duty dance, for his arms were no longer wooden and his hands ran down her ribs and came to rest on her hips and there was slight pressure there to pull her against him. He moved like silk and this time it was Ariana who was the one holding back.

‘Dance with me,’ he moaned.

‘I am.’

‘Like we did.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘My mother is looking.’

‘Let her look.’

‘You know what she can be like.’

‘Tell her that your sex life is none of her business.’

‘I have.’ Ariana laughed. ‘But we no longer