Damn!
Just as she did her best to move on and prove to herself she could party without him, the best-looking spanner in the world was suddenly thrown into the works.
‘I’m busy dancing,’ she told him, and reclaimed her arm.
‘It’s a Brazilian wedding, Ariana,’ he told her. ‘Not a Spanish one.’
‘I know that.’
‘Yet you’re doing the flamenco.’
‘So I am...’ Her heart was hammering because she could not quite believe that he was here. ‘These cachaças are very strong.’ She was trying to act normally, or rather how she would have acted a year ago at a family event when Gian De Luca suddenly showed up. ‘I thought you had to be at the La Fiordelise Florence, opening—’
‘I left early and gave myself the rest of the night off...’
‘Why are they all called La Fiordelise?’ she snapped. It had always annoyed her and she let him know tonight. ‘It’s hardly original.’
‘Your father said the same.’
‘Well, you should have listened to him. La Fiordelise, London. La Fiordelise, Azerbaijan...’Gosh those cachaças must be strong, she thought, because she allowed a little of her resentment to seep out. ‘Perhaps you could send me there...’
He just smiled.
But it was a smile she had never seen before. Not his on-duty smile, or his off-duty one; it was just a smile that let her be, that simply accepted her as she was and, she felt, suddenly adored.
‘Hey, Ariana...’ Pedro was waving her to join in another odd-looking dance.
‘Your boyfriend is calling you to dance with him again,’ Gian said, and with those words let her know he’d been watching her for a while. ‘You’re very popular tonight.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Ariana said, and she’d never been happier to be caught dancing and smiling and laughing, even if she was bleeding inside. ‘I am in demand!’
‘Have you time to dance with me?’
No.
She had to practise saying no to him, had to have that tiny word fall readily from her tongue.
For. The. Rest. Of. Her. Life.
Except that tiny word felt far too big when she looked into those beautiful slate-grey eyes. She would start tomorrow, Ariana decided, and allow herself just one tiny dance tonight. ‘One dance,’ Ariana said, and found herself back in his arms. ‘For the sake of duty.’
Yet this was no duty dance, for his arms were no longer wooden and his hands ran down her ribs and came to rest on her hips and there was slight pressure there to pull her against him. He moved like silk and this time it was Ariana who was the one holding back.
‘Dance with me,’ he moaned.
‘I am.’
‘Like we did.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘My mother is looking.’
‘Let her look.’
‘You know what she can be like.’
‘Tell her that your sex life is none of her business.’
‘I have.’ Ariana laughed. ‘But we no longer have a sex life, so there’s nothing to tell.’