Nic was well aware that his presence as Lorna’s plus one had not gone unnoticed, and it gave him a stab of satisfaction.
But he blandly ignored the staff member who had admitted them to the elevator that was to sweep them up to the roof garden as he promptly got on his mobile phone—presumably to alert his boss that Nicolo Falcone had just strolled in. He wasn’t here to see that pampered playboy Vito Viscari holding court, he was here to see what his rival had achieved, and whether to poach his garden designer from him if he sufficiently liked what she’d done.
As they emerged on to the roof garden Nic could see in an instant that it was a triumph of design—a green haven high above the London traffic on this mild autumnal evening. He let Lorna take him around, let her explain how she’d coped with the inherent difficulties of creating a garden on a functioning roof, making trickling rivulets out of drainage channels and disguising ventilation shafts with skilful plantings.
They reached the far side of the garden and Nic paused, glancing down at her. ‘Draw up some initial ideas for refreshing the gardens at the Falcone Firenze,’ he said. He made his voice warm, less businesslike. ‘We’ll discuss them over lunch sometime.’
He saw her face light with pleasure at the potential commission—and at such a prestigious property. It confirmed his decision. Florence would be an ideal location to pursue an R&R interest in her as well as a professional one. It might be just what he needed to cure his restlessness.
His eyes rested on her a moment. On the rich chestnut hair, deep-set eyes, generous mouth. She would be very easy to take to bed. But was that what he really wanted?
Being with Lorna would do the job of finally moving him on. Put that brief fleeting time with Fran out of his head and close the door on it firmly, decisively. Fran had been different—his time with her had been different—but that changed nothing. He didn’t do relationships. He did R&R, and kept it to that. Fran, however memorable, had been just one more round.
And now, surely, it was time to start another. Potentially with the woman at his side this evening.
Nic’s gaze lifted from Lorna, moved out across the expanse of the rooftop garden to the throng of guests, most of whom were gathered on the wide white-paved area in front of the long conservatory that housed the rooftop restaurant, softly lit, with concealed lighting creating a stage effect from where he stood on the less lit edge of the garden.
His eyes panned across the chattering guests, over the waiters circulating with silver trays of champagne flutes and canapés. He could see Vito Viscari, busy circulating, meeting and greeting his guests, distinctive with his slim elegance and height, letting the female guests bestow effusive air kisses on him, effortlessly charming them with his matinee idol looks.
An expression of casual contempt for how easy the cossetted handsome heir to the Viscari dynasty had had it all his gilded life crossed Nic’s hardening face.
He shifted position restlessly. He had seen what he’d come to see and now he’d take his leave. Lorna, doubtless, would want to stay on, enjoy her creative triumph.
Then, just as he was about to tell her he was leaving, the shifting pattern of the throng changed. Nic’s gaze froze.
Out of the mass of guests one distilled into focus.
A tall, slender woman in a long deep blue gown, her hair in elaborate coils on her head, an embroidered silk shawl over her elbows, was talking to two other people. A woman he had last seen disappearing into the Departures hall of McCarran airport in Las Vegas. A woman he had not thought to ever see again.
And immediately, piercingly, two thoughts plunged into his brain.
He had not moved on at all.
And Lorna Linhurst had ceased to exist for him.
* * *
Fran smiled, listening to Cesare’s wife Carla telling her something amusing about her infant son. Beside them, Cesare was looking down at his wife, with an expression in his eyes that had never come Fran’s way in all the time she’d known him—not even in their brief engagement.
She shifted position, feeling restless suddenly, confined by the close-fitting haute couture evening gown from one of her favourite Milan designers. Her sapphire necklace—also a favourite, bestowed upon her by her father for her twenty-first birthday from the di Ristori vaults—was heavy around her throat. She was in full make-up, her hair professionally styled in an ornate fashion. It felt strange to be so dressed up once more, disporting herself at opulent affairs like this party tonight.
Even though she was now back at Cambridge, she was keeping her social life to a minimum. She went to visit her grandfather from time to time at Beaucourt, glad that he was steadily getting back to his old, irascible self, and before Christmas she would be flying out to Italy for her sister’s engagement party—a huge bash that her mother and Adrietta were revelling in.
But she’d come back to England to go to Cambridge and work, not to party. Tonight was an exception.
She was here with Cesare and Carla at this lavish do at the Viscari St James’s because it was owned by Carla’s step-cousin, Vito. Fran’s own cousin, Harry, the young Earl of Cranleigh, was here as well, as her partner, and all of them were adding an aristocratic cachet to the glittering, high-society evening at Carla’s request.
Now Carla was thanking her for coming.
‘I always do what I can to support Vito,’ Carla said frankly to her.
‘Well, that’s what families are for.’ Fran smiled. ‘And friends,’ she added, throwing an affectionate glance towards Cesare.
She would always count him as a friend, and only felt relief to discover how much in love he was with Carla, so that she knew breaking her engagement to him had been a welcome release.
That sense of restlessness came again. She had given up Cesare easily, eager to plunge into the excitement of working with a Nobel Laureate. Thinking no more of him. A frown creased her brows. She had thought more about Nic than she ever had about Cesare.
Nic, with his searing blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled his wolf smile at her, laughed with her, and swept her into his strong arms to kiss her until she was breathless with desire for him.