Ariana wanted more of Gian.
She wanted to know his kiss. She wanted...more.
More than his kiss...
To know his touch...
To sit holding hands at his table...
The more she admitted to herself, the more honest her admissions became...
She wanted Gian to hold her and she wanted to know how it felt to be made love to by him.
For Gian De Luca to be her first...
It was a reckless thought, though, for by his own admission Gian came with a warning.
But since when had Ariana heeded warnings?
She stared up at Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi—the Fountain of Four Rivers, said to be the most complex of the many fountains in Rome. She looked at the four river gods and then up, ever up, to the tall obelisk that topped it. Her feelings were spinning in her mind as the crush she had on Gian transformed into need.
She loathed being twenty-five with barely a kiss to her name.
Yet while kisses did not excite her, the mere thought of Gian’s kiss did.
‘Here.’ His voice startled her and she looked at the paper cone filled with hot chestnuts that he held out. ‘You looked cold.’
‘You got these for me?’ Gian watched as her pale face broke into a smile, and her eyes shone as if he were handing her a purse of gold. ‘Thank you.’
Hot chestnuts on a cold night had never tasted so good as they sat at the base of the fountain, biting into the salty treats. ‘These are the best I have tasted,’ Ariana said, every single time she ate one.
‘They’re just chestnuts.’ Gian did not really get her enthusiasm for such a familiar winter treat. ‘I used to come down here at night as a child and buy these.’
‘You would sneak out?’ she nudged.
‘No sneaking required.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that...’ Gian said, and he looked at Ariana, quietly watching the world go by. He knew why he had not left her alone tonight. He knew better than anyone how it felt to be alone in Rome after dark, that frantic search for company, any company, that compelled you to speak to a stranger or hang out with a wayward friend, anything other than return to your room and lie there alone. ‘So...’ he changed the subject and looked over at the stunning Palazzo Pamphili, where the wedding was to be held ‘...you arranged the wedding reception.’
‘I managed to secure the venue,’ Ariana corrected.
‘Good for you.’ He smiled.
His smile was like being handed the earth.
‘Come on,’ he suggested, when they had finished eating, ‘let’s walk.’
They passed the impressive building where a few months from now the wedding would take place. It seemed so wrong that such a celebration would take place and their father would not be there.
‘Are you going?’ she asked, because the idea of him being there really helped. She was so out of the wedding loop she had no real idea if he’d been invited, let alone responded.
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘It’s the weekend of the opening of my Florence hotel so I shall be sending my apologies. I am sure I shan’t be missed.’
You shall be missed, she wanted to say, but did not know how. ‘I’m kind of dreading it,’ she said, hinting a little that his presence might help.
‘You’ll be just fine,’ Gian said assuredly, and gave her hand a squeeze, yet her fingers were cold beneath his so he held onto them as they walked.