One Night In…. Оливия Гейтс
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down, ate the delicious food, drank the exquisite wine, and accepted the embraces and congratulations from a crowd that had become loosened and relaxed, ready to celebrate.
Alessandro sat in the middle of it all, dark and forebidding. When he greeted someone his voice was polished and smooth; he laughed at the jokes and participated in the customary dances, even La Tarantella, the circle dance that Meghan stumbled through, uncertain of the steps, distant from the jollity.
Yet there was no mistaking his dark preoccupation. Almost, Meghan thought sadly, as if he wanted to be somewhere else.
Be someone else.
Her stomach churned. Her heart twisted. Doubt washed over her, yet she couldn’t regret. She’d made this decision. She’d wanted to be here.
Only she hadn’t realised just how very hard it would be. How very hard Alessandro would be, his mouth a grim line, his eyes flinty, every taut line of his body making him guarded, unapproachable.
Unlovable.
How many secrets, dark and treacherous, churned and seethed in the space between them, creating an impossible chasm?
And they weren’t even her secrets.
They were his.
When she was alone for a moment, scraping her sanity together as she stood by a pillar at the side of the dance floor, Stefano Lucrezi approached her.
‘Congratulations, Signora di Agnio.’ His voice was smooth and pleasant, yet the title jolted her.
‘Thank you, Signor Lucrezi.’
‘Please, call me Stefano. So, this was quite the love match?’ He raised his eyebrows, smiling at her. ‘I’ve never known Alessandro to move so quickly with a woman before.’
‘Is that so?’ Meghan’s own smile turned brittle. ‘He has taken care to warn me that he has moved quite quickly with plenty of women in the past.’
Stefano’s gaze did not falter. ‘Ah, so you know of his reputation?’
His reputation? It sounded bad. Still, if the secret that rode Alessandro, drove him to despair, was simply having had too many affairs, Meghan thought she could accept it. She didn’t like it, but if it was the reality she would learn to deal with it.
‘No one’s told me much of anything,’ she said frankly. She looked at Stefano. He seemed friendly, open, and she wanted answers. ‘Do you know Alessandro well?’
‘As well as anybody does. He keeps to himself.’
‘Sometimes,’ Meghan said quietly, her voice an ache, ‘I think I know him quite well. And at other times not at all.’
‘He is, perhaps, two different people,’ Stefano said after a moment. ‘The man he was, and the man he is now.’
And the man he meant to be. ‘What do you mean, exactly? What happened to change him?’
Stefano shook his head. ‘It is not for me to say.’ He patted her hand gently. ‘Perhaps he will tell you, signora, in time.’
Sketching a slight bow, Stefano left her.
Meghan sagged against the pillar behind her. She’d been given clues to this impossible, unfathomable man, but she didn’t understand what they meant.
Didn’t know if she could keep digging for answers.
Wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
Across the room Alessandro watched his bride with a cold detachment he was far from feeling. Encasing himself in ice was the only way to get through this event, when every pair of eyes watched him speculatively, hungrily, waiting for disaster, shame.
His own.
They all wanted him to fail—expected it. He’d lived with that for two years, and it should mean nothing to him now.
It did mean nothing to him—except for the one person in the room who didn’t understand.
The one person he couldn’t bear to see him fail.
And yet he would fail. Not with business, because he was good at that. He’d surprised everyone, especially himself, when he’d taken the reins of his father’s company and found that he held them with natural ease.
He would fail her. He already had, in so many ways, and he saw it in the stark confusion in her eyes—the way she turned towards and away from him at the same time, because she didn’t know what he would do, who he was.
What he was.
‘I just spoke to your bride.’ Stefano stood by Alessandro’s chair, smiling faintly. ‘She seems quite fond of you, my friend.’
‘She’ll learn better.’
‘Do you love her?’
Alessandro laughed shortly. ‘No. Of course not.’
Stefano nodded musingly, although his voice sounded regretful. ‘It’s easier that way, I suppose.’
Alessandro turned to him, raised one eyebrow in mocking incredulity. ‘You’re not going to tell me you believe in true love?’
‘Of course not.’ Stefano smiled tightly. ‘You know as well as I do that such a thing is a fairytale. We’re wise men, Alessandro.’
‘Yes,’ he replied flatly, his eyes fastened on Meghan’s slight form. ‘We are.’
It was time to end this torture. He could not take any more speculation, whispered gossip. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to be with Meghan.
It was time to claim his bride.
She felt someone’s gaze on her, and before she turned, before she saw who it was, she knew.
The heat and the desire turned her limbs weak, her mind blank and yet flooded with feeling.
Alessandro.
Meghan turned, saw him watching her, a possessive smile quirking his lips.
He moved towards her, lithe and loose-limbed, an elegant stalking that she surrendered to completely.
‘It is time to go.’
‘Already?’
‘The bride and groom must leave first. It is tradition.’ His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her to his side. ‘And I can wait no longer. You look beautiful in that dress, cara.’
‘It’s your mother’s. She was very generous to offer it.’
‘Yes, I can see how she wants to make amends.’ He brushed her hair with his lips. ‘But I do not want to talk of her. There is a suite upstairs, waiting for us.’
Meghan’s stomach plunged with nerves. She wanted this, she reminded herself. She wanted this so very much.
It didn’t stop her from being scared.
‘All right. Do we say goodbye?’
‘Not unless you want lots of bawdy jokes and knowing looks.’
Meghan shuddered. ‘I couldn’t stand that.’
‘Then we slip out now, quietly, when no one is looking.’
‘What will people think?’
‘That we can’t wait to be alone with each other. And it’s true … isn’t it?’
She nodded shakily. ‘Yes, it’s true.’
Even if I’m terrified.
They were silent as they slipped from the reception, silent as they rode in the elevator to the top floor. Silent as Alessandro swiped the electronic key card and ushered her into a sumptuous suite of rooms.
Silent—yet the tension, the expectation, the desire, thrummed