‘I prefer to rise or fall alone,’ Gian said. ‘I did not see that the hotel could be saved. Still, not everyone was aware that it was on the brink of going under, and I told your father about a request to host some royalty on their trip to Rome. Top secret, of course...
‘I couldn’t consider it, but your father said it was a chance to turn things around. The Penthouse Suite was still incredible—my parents always kept the best for themselves—and the dining room was, of course, in good shape. And so word got around...’
‘How?’ Ariana frowned. ‘If it was top secret?’
Gian smiled. ‘He told your mother.’ There was a tiny feeling of triumph to see Ariana laugh. ‘Before we knew it, the hotel was at full quota for a certain weekend in February.’
‘Really?’
‘The helicopter brought in the best produce from your father’s estate and the best wines. And my staff worked like they never had before. That’s why now I only hire staff who can work in all areas. I had the chief bartender making up suites. Luna herself got the Penthouse Suite ready...’
‘My goodness.’
‘It was the biggest charade and it went off superbly and La Fiordelise shuddered back to life.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Not just like that,’ Gian corrected. ‘Years of hard work.’
The main course was just as delicious but when it came to dessert, Ariana could not choose from her father’s favourites, which were all being served.
‘I think we choose the two best, and of course ice cream,’ Gian said, ‘though not this.’ He frowned as his silver spoon sliced through a quenelle of ice cream from her menu and pulled a face as he tasted it. ‘Tutti-frutti?’
‘It was his favourite,’ Ariana said. ‘Every summer, in the evening, he would send me to the shop to get a cone for him.’
‘Really?’ Gian checked, and he watched a little flush of pink spread up her neck. ‘Because I seem to remember that you would go to the store for ice cream and when you came back with this flavour yourpapàalways declined his cone.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘You have it wrong.’
‘And Stefano would complain that he didn’t like tutti-frutti either, and so you would end up having to eat all three.’
‘You’re getting mixed up,’ Ariana said haughtily, and she dipped her spoon into the quenelle. He watched as she took a taste and closed her eyes in bliss, then opened them to him and looked right at him. ‘Helovedthat ice cream.’
Rafael probably had, Gian conceded. Not so much the sickly-sweet candied ice cream, more the little games Ariana constantly played.
‘Well, it’s not going on the menu,’ Gian said. ‘It’s...’ He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. ‘A simpleaffogatois a better way to round off the meal.’ He watched her pout. ‘Ariana, you are one of the few people in the world who like tutti-frutti ice cream. Trust me on that.’
‘I suppose you know best,’ she said in her best pained voice.
‘There is no suppose about it.’
‘It would mean so much to me, though...’
Wearily he took another taste and, as he did so, Ariana did her sneaky best and pulled on all her inner resources so that crocodile tears pooled in her violet eyes.
It did nothing to move that black heart, though.
‘No,’ Gian said, and put down his spoon and, as if to prove how awful her dessert of choice was, took a drink of water before speaking again. ‘Would you like someamaroor a cognac?’ Gian suggested, but Ariana shook her head.
‘No, thank you.’
‘Are you sulking?’ he asked.
‘A little bit,’ she admitted, and then smiled despite herself. ‘Of course not. I just ought to get home...’ She looked away then, because the reason she could not stay was surely there in her eyes.
She wanted her cognac.
But not here.