The Revenge Collection 2018. Кейт Хьюит
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Shaking off the wish that he were with her right now, she turned her attention back to Anna Maria, taking in the creased trouser suit she wore. ‘Are you going to change soon?’
‘I’m only here to oversee events,’ the PA replied.
‘That’s what the hotel management’s for,’ Elena said. ‘Take the evening off and join us.’
‘I can’t.’
Rooting through her small clutch bag, Elena found her credit card. ‘There’s a boutique and a hairdresser here in the hotel. Take this and buy yourself something. I’m sure the hotel will have a room you can get ready in.’
Anna Maria shook her head, now looking ill at ease. ‘I truly can’t.’
‘You can. I insist. I’ll clear it with Gabriele for you.’
At the mention of his name, something flickered on Anna Maria’s face.
For the briefest moment Elena wondered if the PA was in love with him but immediately discounted the idea. She wasn’t an expert on relationships but not once had she felt any vibes that suggested they were anything but boss and employee.
Maybe the PA disapproved of their farce of a marriage and didn’t think it appropriate to join in with the mock celebrations?
‘Please,’ she said, touching her hand and deciding to change tack. ‘We both know the truth about my marriage, there’s no need to pretend otherwise, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the evening. I won’t know many people here and it will be nice to have a familiar face in the crowd.’
Anna Maria bit into her lip. When she looked at Elena there was something in her expression that set off a fresh warning of something being wrong. But then she smiled and nodded her head.
‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you.’
‘Go and make yourself look beautiful.’
Anna Maria spoke briefly to Gabriele, who sent Elena another wink, then she disappeared from the room.
Elena continued gazing at him, happy to observe from afar. He looked gorgeous in his black tuxedo and bow tie, a powerhouse of masculinity that perfectly complemented the femininity she could feel racing through her blood.
Tonight she truly felt like a woman.
Of all the dresses she’d bought on Liana the stylist’s recommendation, this was the one she’d never had any intention of wearing. For a start, it showed off flesh. Her flesh. Made of silk crepe de Chine that felt heavenly against her skin, the spaghetti straps and low-cut front skimmed both sides of her breasts, making the wearing of a bra impossible. Monochrome swirl prints interspersed with turquoise fell in layers, one side to mid-thigh, the other to mid-calf, and swayed when she walked. And speaking of walking...
She’d squeezed her feet into a pair of blush-coloured five-inch-high sandals with one simple strap across her toes that was nonetheless crystal embellished, and a thin ankle strap. She’d never felt so tall. Her legs had never felt so shapely.
A visit to a salon had seen her hair swept into a loose but elegant chignon, her fringe swept to one side and tendrils left loose around her ears and her nape. She’d kept her make-up simple but after weeks of determined practice she was finally getting the hang of it.
As vain and silly as she knew it to be, she now loved wearing make-up and felt nothing but sadness that she had spent so many years denying this side of her nature, not just denying it but pretending it didn’t exist.
Gabriele had taken one look at her and wolf-whistled.
That man...how could the one person she should hate more than any other on the planet be the one to make her look in a mirror and find the real woman beneath the skin?
With a start she realised she didn’t hate him any more. And when he came over and took her hand in his, she squeezed it, her heart so full, her chest so tight she couldn’t speak.
‘That was a lovely thing you did for Anna Maria,’ he said quietly, handing her credit card back to her. ‘I’ve told her to put whatever she buys on the account. I should have thought of it myself.’
The temptation to reach out and touch his face was strong but some last resistance lay within her and she slipped the card back into her bag, saying, ‘She looked so tired I almost ordered her home.’
He gazed into her eyes as if he were searching for something.
The urge to touch him grew and she raised her chin towards his, parting her lips...
A loud noise from the stage broke the moment and she quickly looked away, trying desperately to regain control of herself.
‘The guests are arriving,’ she murmured, glad of the distraction, horrified that she had been about to kiss him, not for show but because at that moment she had wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth upon hers.
Soon the dance room was filled with guests, all of whom had to congratulate the happy couple. Even though they’d put on the invitations that the only present they required was their guests’ company, many came with gifts, which Elena felt terrible about accepting. She kept staring at the table laden down with beautifully wrapped packages with that same tugging wistfulness in her belly she had felt when she’d walked into the room; that sensation of wishing that this could really be...
She knew from Gabriele’s body language when her family arrived.
They were talking to a couple whose names she couldn’t remember when he stiffened and his hold on her hand tightened.
‘Elena’s family are here,’ he said politely. ‘We need to go and welcome them.’
Her heart pounding so loudly it muffled her hearing, she walked with him to the bar, where her father and brothers were standing, champagne flutes in hand, although she would bet that any moment they would be ordering double Scotches.
The four Ricci men stood in a row facing them.
It was like a Mexican stand-off and, judging by the looks in their eyes, they were all waiting for her to decide which side she was on.
How could she tell them that there was no choice and that if she didn’t stay on her side of the invisible dividing line, they would likely all go to prison?
You don’t know if you even want to return to their side of the divide.
Fixing a smile to her face, she embraced them in turn, wishing so hard she didn’t feel like such a traitor, not just by her actions but by her emotions too. She had as little control over the latter as she had the former.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ she said brightly, then stood back as Gabriele extended his hand to her father, forcing Ignazio to shake it.
She winced. She didn’t know who tried the hardest to crush the other but any moment she expected to hear the sound of snapping bone.
When Gabriele shook her brothers’ hands, it was their turn to wince.
After the ‘niceties’ had been observed, Roberto, the youngest of her brothers, looked her up and down, a smirk on his face. ‘What’s Mantegna done to you? You look like a girl.’
‘More like a whore,’ Franco muttered under his breath, yet audible enough for Elena to hear.
Her whole body flushed at the insult she had spent her entire life trying to avoid being on the receiving end of.
Before she could think of a suitable response—her brothers’ guffaws only added to the brain-melting humiliation—Gabriele fixed them all with a stare that stopped their laughter in its tracks.
He took her hand in his and held it possessively.
‘Your sister is a beautiful, intelligent woman,’ he said, undisguised contempt in his voice, ‘and I would appreciate it if you kept any sexist digs you may have in mind out of her earshot and definitely