Memory snapped in him, of how he’d asked her what her turnover was that evening over dinner in Manhattan, and how she’d drawn back from his enquiry. Now she had no option but to tell him.
She did so coolly, in a crisp, businesslike fashion, outlining progress on current projects, indicating other prospects not yet confirmed, detailing upcoming costs, incoming payments. She answered all his questions fluently, holding her own under his probing interrogation.
Out of nowhere he found himself contrasting her to the woman he had intended to marry. What had he ever talked to Mia about?
Our wedding, mostly, and assuring her that although we would live in Milan we would make extended visits to the grandfather she’s devoted to.
But what else had they talked about? He could not recall. Only that she had seldom said much.
But her quietness was what I craved.
He steered his thoughts away. Mia was lost to him. Taken from him by her own cousin’s spite.
His eyes rested on Ariana, who was answering some question he’d put to her about the current stock value of the inventory she was carrying, and he heard himself interrupt her. ‘Have you always been jealous of your cousin?’
Her expression changed. Closed like a door shutting him out.
‘Mia is not a subject I am prepared to discuss,’ she said. Her voice was clipped.
A stab of anger smote Luca. ‘You ruin her life and presume to say that? Tome, of all people?’
But her face remained closed, mouth set. ‘I won’t talk about her,’ she repeated. ‘What happened in New York made your marriage to her impossible. You wouldn’t let me near you to warn you—’
His hand shot up.‘Basta!’He would not tolerate her accusation! Her attempt to justify what she had done. The hideous debacle she had caused without a thought for her cousin—for how her words had caused Mia to collapse into a faint, prostrate with shock and dismay...
He took a heavy breath. He’d been a fool to turn the conversation to what she’d done. What did it matter that she sought to justify herself? It was impossible for her to do so. Her behaviour towards Mia was beyond contempt...
He fought for composure again and slammed down the emotions leaping within him. The anger she made him feel. He reached for the champagne bottle, refilling his own flute and hers without asking her. Then, crossing to the house phone, he gave the order for dinner to be served.
It came quickly, and he was glad. The serving of it gave him time to calm himself, get back in control. The control it was essential for him to exert to make her destruction complete.
How she got through dinner Ariana didn’t know. She ate mechanically, which was an abuse of the gourmet dishes placed in front of her, grateful that the serving staff had not been dismissed. It gave her some shelter—frail but at least present—from being alone with Luca Farnese. The man who had summoned her here to spend the night with him.
While the waiting staff were there he kept up a flow of small talk, to which she replied as mechanically as she ate. What it was about she had little idea—Lucca, mostly, and its history...the annual opera festival held in honour of its most famous son, Giacomo Puccini. She hardly knew. Or cared. All her strength was going into staying seated, lifting her fork to her mouth, making whatever replies were appropriate.
Not looking at him.
Not remembering.
As the excruciating meal finally finished, and she pushed aside her half-eatentarte framboise, she heard Luca speak to the staff, telling them to serve coffee in the sitting area of the suite. Then he got to his feet.
‘Shall we?’ he said to Ariana.
His voice was smooth. Too smooth.
She stood up too, and walked across to one of the pair of facing sofas, sitting down on it with as much poise as she could muster, feeling the folds of her dress drape softly on the velvet upholstery. She had drunk very little wine, yet along with the glass of champagne earlier it had been more than dangerous. She could feel her heart rate increase, the tension racking through her.
Soon, very soon now, she would face her fate.
She watched the serving staff set out a coffee tray in front of her and clear away the dinner dishes, saw Luca presenting them with an obviously generous tip before they wheeled away the trolleys.
Leaving her alone with Luca Farnese.
And all that must shortly come.
The dread thudding in her heart grew heavier yet.
He sat down on the sofa opposite her. Without volition her eyes went to him. Went to his aquiline profile as he leant forward slightly to pour coffee, the expensive material of his dark grey suit straining across his powerful thighs. Thighs that had pressed her oh-so-yielding body into the mattress that unforgettable night in New York...