‘Francesca is a designer specialising in marine interiors,’ Salvatore chimed. ‘Graduated top in her year.’
‘Congratulations,’ Antonio replied with a nod to Francesca.
‘You might like to see our latest beauty,’ Salvatore added. ‘Her work is very unique.’
‘I’m sure it is spectacular,’ Antonio answered guardedly.
Everyone knew he liked his boats—thought they were his one indulgence. But the truth was he liked them because he could work in peace without interruption.
‘I thought the plans for the marina expansion were very interesting,’ Francesca said. ‘Overcrowding is a problem of course, but I’ve had some thoughts as to how it could be made more efficient...’ She trailed off and smiled up at him.
Was this politicising or flirting?
Antonio figured boldness was a family trait, but he felt none of the stirring he felt in the presence of her fiery half-sister. He couldn’t resist glancing over at Bella to see if the wolf jerk had made his way to her. But she stood alone, looking right back at him, her green eyes stormy and accusing, watching him talk pleasantries with the man who denied that her existence was his responsibility. As his gaze clashed with hers, she lifted her chin and she looked away without so much as a blink.
Anger bubbled. She’d deliberately blanked him. He wanted her to look at him, needing to understand that emotion in her eyes. Instead he wrenched his attention back to the woman beside him. Bella’s supposed half-sister Francesca Accardi was watching him too closely. He flicked his fingers and the aide hovering nearby stepped up.
‘This is Matteo,’ he introduced him briefly. ‘Matteo, I believe Ms Accardi has some interesting ideas on the marina development. I would like you to meet with her to discuss them.’
There was no mistaking the disappointment in Salvatore’s eyes as Antonio stepped back, leaving Matteo to arrange an appointment with Francesca. But Antonio was too used to people trying to make time with him, especially when accompanied by their single daughters. He turned back to spot Bella, but she’d vanished.
* * *
Bella sat in the plush seat in the exclusive box, one of the first to return for the second half of the variety performance. She’d intended to be one of the last—to maximise her exposure. As much as she loathed the tricks, she’d learned well from her mother. But her knees were now too wobbly to make that late entrance, her nerves too shredded from seeing Prince Antonio schmooze her father. The thing was, it was seeing Antonio that hurt more than Salvatore Accardi’s customary rudeness.
Was she so stupidly weak she trembled at the mere sight of him?
Tonight she’d dressed with as much care as if she were still stepping onto a stage in front of thousands. She’d no shortage of glamorous dresses—people paid for her to wear their designs as long as she put her picture on social media. Getting the right look took longer than imaginable but it was a necessary part of the mystique and the ‘lifestyle’ her club was selling. Having lost her ballet career, she’d no other qualifications—yet—to call on. For all their fabulousness free dresses couldn’t be eaten and she couldn’t sell them for cash. If she ever did clear her wardrobe it could only be to raise money for charity.
So if she wanted to eat, she needed to earn real money from a real job, study on the side and eventually save enough to move on to what she really wanted to do. And as much as she hated her inherited ‘notoriety’, she needed it, because without it she’d have absolutely nothing and she had to work it hard now because it wasn’t going to last—some other model or actress or lifestyle blogger would be the new flavour soon enough.
She had to be seen. Flirt if necessary. Dance in her own club. But most importantly she had to avoid the heartless Prince who’d judged and punished her so personally.
But deep down she knew she’d dressed tonight with him in mind. She’d felt his gaze on her at those other events since that morning and his attention—his disapproval—stung. She’d tried not to care that he’d left her so abruptly but she did. Too much.
She’d wanted more but he’d reacted with such fury when she’d reached for him, he couldn’t have made it clearer—she was so far beneath him.