‘I’m pleased I could entertain you at my expense.’
‘What good would you be as an employer if you couldn’t entertain me? Though admittedly that usually happens when you’re not looking,’ she said.
He raised a strong, inky eyebrow. ‘Aren’t I giving you enough work? When do you have time to appreciate this entertainment? I’m imagining it now. A cabal of executive assistants all mocking their employers behind their backs.’
‘That’s secret EA business and I’ll never tell.’ Simone tapped the side of her nose, her finger coming away damp from her tears of laughter. The truth was that she kept everything about Leo’s business entirely confidential, as he well knew given her employment contract with its comprehensive confidentiality clauses.
His eyes narrowed, attempting to look stern but failing because the quirk at the corners of his perfect mouth remained. ‘What would you all talk about?’
‘I don’t know. About the time you told a supplier you neededa slightly warmer shade of black?’
That conversation had involved a lengthy exchange ofwarmer, cooler, getting closerlike some game of Hot and Cold hide and seek. She started giggling even harder.
‘They weren’t listening and were wasting my time. That job wonawardsbecause we got it right. I’m beginning to think you’re unserious about Circolo’s reputation. That’s troubling. Why did I marry you again?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Zanetti. Perhaps you should read one of your press releases or interviews on the subject. Or would you prefer I do that for you and give you a precis, so that you’re not wasting your time?’
Leo muttered something that sounded a lot likeincorrigible. She was about to retort,you love itbut held back because that would be a weird thing to say.
Whilst she’d always stood up for herself, stood up to him, their conversation had never been quite like this. So…familiar. Instead, Simone wiped at her eyes. When had she last laughed so hard that she cried? She couldn’t remember, meaning it had to have been years. A thought that struck her as almost sad.
Leo reached his hand into the inner pocket of his tux,removed something with a flourish and held it out to her. She took it. It was a warm, pristine, white square of folded fabric.
‘A handkerchief? How old school of you.’ Simone dabbed at her eyes. Closed them, took a deep breath. The fabric smelled like him. His aftershave. Like spices and vanilla with a hint of rum. An intoxicating scent invoking memories of wintry Christmases and hot desserts. The excitement of unwrapping gifts. Something so nostalgic and familiar a yawning chasm just opened in her belly and sheyearned.
‘Someone needed to be prepared,’ he said, breaking the spell that seemed to have been cast over her. ‘Little did I understand the tears today wouldn’t be about our getting married, but at my expense.’
‘What good’s a wife if not to tease her husband? I’ve heard we’re all doing it and I’m trying really hard for authenticity here.’
‘Clearly you’re succeeding. Your act’s entirely believable. The Tessitores will never think otherwise.’
She’d needed to get away from all the weird feelings that seemed to have overtaken her and hadn’t known how. Thankfully, Leo had done it for her. Reminding them both of the truth of this arrangement. To help him win a business deal from people who didn’t seem to understand or appreciate him. Apparently concerned about the number of women he’d been seen with in the press and what that meant for his stability, when Simone had little doubt that most women on the planet would want to be seen on his arm.
Plus, hemadecareers. Leo would date a model and then she’d be booked for months. Be seen having dinner with an up-and-coming designer of any sort? Their catalogue would be sold out overnight.
Really, Simone wondered why Leo was so intent on acquiring this company whose owners didn’t seem to recognise his worth, even though he’d told her it was a heritage firm and part of the cultural fabric of the Lombardy region of Italy, which he wished to preserve. Of course, what Leonardo Zanetti wanted he got. She guessed this was just more of the same.
She balled up his handkerchief and held it out to him. ‘Thank you. I’m fine now. My composure’s firmly back in place.’
He waved her away. ‘Keep it. In case there are any other moments where you lose your composure because of me. As your dutiful husband, I want to ensure I look after you. And on that point, whilst I offered you a drink I still haven’t made you one.’
Simone hadn’t had anyone looking after her since she’d walked away from her family seven years ago, at age twenty. At least she had her freedom now. She looked down at her wedding and engagement rings, glittering in the soft light of the room. When Leo had asked what style of ring she’d like and if she had a preferred colour of gem, she’d told him it didn’t matter. Her only stipulation had been that she didn’t want anything too ostentatious. He didn’t plant a country-sized boulder on her finger as she’d feared he might want to do. What he’d delivered was a round, two-carat diamond set in a platinum band. Not too big, as she’d asked. However, the diamond was an uncommon gem, internally flawless. And bisecting the band sat a fine channel lined with a circle of tiny, sparkling pastel gemstones that made a watercolour rainbow round her finger. Her wedding ring matched. She hadn’t picked a single colour, so he gave her every one of them.
Simone wasn’t sure why something in her chest ached as she looked at it. She shook it off. In the end, Simone guessed her rings were symbols of the loss of freedom she’d so craved. But at least they were put there as a result of her own choosing, rather than her parents’.
‘Nice that you finally remembered. I wondered why I was feeling thirsty. What do you have?’ she said as she made her way to an oversized lounge suite. She sank down into the plush cushions and wiggled her toes in the shoes she’d worn, which had been handmade to match the era of her gown.
She loved shoes. They were her only weakness. She’d had an unreasonable collection in her other life, before she’d realised that none of it mattered and one pair might have kept a family’s bills paid and food on the table for a month. But these shoes… Covered in satin to match her gown, with magnificent handmade, wax citrus flowers to match the real blossoms in her bouquet that had been gathered into a little cluster as an embellishment at the front of each shoe. Just like an original thirties pair of shoes might have had. Delicate and perfect.
‘You can have whatever your heart desires. However, I asked for a hazelnut liqueur to be placed in the suite for you,’ Leo said, making his way to a credenza and holding up a shapely bottle full of amber fluid.
Simone’s traitorous heart skipped a little beat and she rubbed the centre of her chest, settling the flutter there, that had struck like moths to lamplight. Leo knew she adored hazelnuts. Once he’d found out just how much she loved them, for the past two Christmases he’d given her a box of exquisite, handmade Belgian chocolates with hazelnut praline as a gift, along with her generous bonus, and she’d savoured them.
‘Perfetto,’ she said and he stilled, cocking his head, those vivid eyes of his fixed on her with the intensity of a spotlight making her want to squirm in her seat. ‘What are you having?’
He began to pour her drink first into a lowball glass with ice. He reached into the bar fridge for his own, pouring the straw-coloured liquid into a tulip-shaped glass.
‘Grappa,’ Leo said as he strolled towards her, with a lazy roll of his hips, drinks in hand. He held out hers and she reached out to take it, their fingers touching. The moment was unintentional, she was sure, but she still tingled at the brush of his warm, tanned skin on hers. The moment had become strangely electric. The grip on her glass was tenuous, so she held on more tightly.
