‘Gian,’ she purred, and gave him her signature red-lipped smile. It was the same smile that set the cameras flashing on the red carpets in Rome, but Gian remained steadfastly unimpressed—not that he showed it, for he was more than used to dealing with the most pampered guests.
‘Ariana.’ He pushed back his chair to stand and greet her. ‘You look amazing as always.’ He said all the right things, though could not help but add, ‘Very orange.’
‘Cinnamon, Gian,’ she wryly corrected as her heart did the oddest thing.
It stopped.
Gianshouldbe familiar. After all, she had known him all her life, yet she was suddenly reminded of his height and the deep tone of his voice. He wore a subtly checked suit in grey with a waistcoat, though his height meant that he wore the check rather than the check wearing him.
Of course her heart had started again—had it not she would have dropped to the floor—but it was jumping around in some ungainly trot as he walked towards her.
Pure nerves, Ariana decided. After all, she did have a huge favour to ask!
‘I apologise for not coming out to greet you,’ Gian said as he came around the desk and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I was just finishing up some work.’
‘That’s fine. Luna took good care of me.’
Except she felt far from fine. Ariana rather wished that the nerves in her chest would abate, yet they fluttered like butterflies—or perhaps fireflies would be a more apt description because there was a flash of heat creeping up her neck and searing her cheeks, but then Gian was, to say the least, rather commanding.
Cold, people called him.
Especially back home in Luctano, where gossip and rumour abounded. The history of the De Lucas was often whispered about and discussed in her home town—at times even by her family. Though a child at the time, Ariana could well remember the shock and horror in the village as news of the fire aboard their luxury yacht had hit in the early hours of a Sunday morning. And, of course, she still remembered the funeral held in Luctano for the Duke, the Duchess and the heir apparent...
People whispered about the fact that Luca hadn’t attended the renewal of his parents’ vows, and his lack of visible emotion at the funeral.
Yet, as Ariana sometimes pointed out, the fact that he hadn’t attended had saved his life.
And, the villagers would add, happy to twist the truth,his brother’s death made him a duke. As if Gian had swum out into the ocean and torched the boat himself!
‘Basta!’Ariana would tell them.
Enough!
Ariana actuallylikedhis steely reserve.
Her own self was so volatile that when life spun too fast, it was to Gian she turned for his distant, measured ways.
While rumour had it he melted women in the bedroom and endeared both staff and guests with his calm assertiveness, it was the general consensus that behind his polished façade there was no heart or emotion, just a wall of solid black ice. Ariana needed that wall of black ice on side so she kept her smile bright. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me.’
‘Of course.’ Gian gestured for her to take a seat as he did the same. ‘Can I offer you some refreshments?’
‘No, thank you.’ Gosh, small talk was difficult when you had a huge favour to ask! ‘How was your Christmas?’
‘Busy,’ Gian responded, then politely enquired, ‘Yours?’
Ariana lifted her hand and made a wavering gesture, to show it had not been the best, though she did not bore Gian with the details, like how, in the manner of a tennis ball in an extended rally, she’d bounced between Florence and Rome. Gian already knew all about her parents’ divorce and her father’s subsequent marriage to the much younger Mia. After all the marriage had taken place here!
And he knew too that her father wasn’t at home in Luctano but in a private hospital in Florence and so she gave him a brief update. ‘Dante is hoping to have Papà moved here to Rome,’ Ariana said, but left out thehospiceword. ‘That should make things a bit easier.’
‘Easier for whom?’ Gian enquired.
‘For his family,’ Ariana responded tartly, but then squirmed inwardly, for it was the very question she had been asking herself since her brothers had suggested the move. ‘His children are all here, his Rome office...’ Her voice trailed off. Though the impressive Romano Holdings offices were in the EUR business district of Rome, Dante had taken over the running of the company when their father had remarried.
Gian’s question was a pertinent one—and confirmed for Ariana that she needed to speak with her father and find out exactly what it washewanted for the final months of his life. ‘It is not all decided,’ she admitted to Gian. ‘We are just testing ideas.’
‘Good,’ Gian said, and she blinked at the gentler edge to his tone. ‘I visited him yesterday.’
‘You visited him in Florence?’