When they’d arrived, Leo had spoken to a number of people who’d all sought him out. Spending so much time in his presence, she’d noticed that people flocked to him like moths to a bright light. He was blinding.
Yet whilst he might turn every head in a space, when she’d stood at the top of the stairs outside her bedroom he’d called her…
Exquisite.
She’d liked that that’s what he thought of her, perhaps a little too much, even though she shouldn’t. Especially since she’d gone out on an unfamiliar limb and opted for glamour, from a small local designer. To hell with thinking the glorious, golden dress she wore was frivolous. She loved it, the way it draped and glittered. She was tired of making herself small. It was like, after her fall, this was her second chance at life and she was taking it. She’d decided she could be true to herself and still show her feminine side.
The side that still loved beautiful things.
Leo had excused himself a little earlier. Business always came first for him and she assumed he was networking about the Tessitore deal. She picked her way through the crowd of people in dinner suits and gowns and sparkling jewellery, looking for him. Once, she’d thought she didn’t fit in these spaces any more but now she realised her place was wherever she wanted it to be. She didn’t know where Leo was in the throng of people but she didn’t take long to find him, in amongst a small group of men. Hoteliers, property magnates. Potential clients no doubt. She realised then, that Leo was moving puzzle pieces around in a way that would advantage him. Making introductions. Helping others so that they might help him right back, when he called in the favour.
She felt a burn in her belly. Was she just another puzzle piece too? Although why should she care if she was? Did she even want the answers to those questions? Simone hesitated. Maybe she could come back later…
No.
If that’s what this was, she refused to allow herself to be a part of Leo’s complicated jigsaw, not any more. They were supposed to be a team. She began cutting through the crowd towards him. As she approached the group, he was engrossed in conversation but some others noticed her. She wasn’t a fool, she knew those looks on their faces. Admiration, attraction. Maybe it made her throw her shoulders back a little more, put a smile on her face. It was the first time in such a long time she’d felt noticed.
Simone realised she liked it. A strange tightness gripped in her chest. She’d like it a lot more if it had come from Leo rather than some strangers. At that discovery, she almost turned around and left. But he must have seen their attention move to somewhere other than him. Noticed their appraising gazes. And he turned to face her, eyebrow raised.
What was he thinking in this moment? It was hard to tell. She realised he was a man who kept a great deal hidden and whilst she might have let that slide once, now she seemed to want all of the answers.
‘Tesoro,’ he said. The endearment washed over her. It was for show and perhaps to stake a claim of sorts. ‘You need something?’
Dinner was over, the band had started in earnest. She knew what she wanted…
‘I was going to claim the dance you promised.’
‘I’m in the middle of something right now.’ He nodded to the men with him. ‘I’ll find you shortly.’
Was he putting her in her place? She wasn’t sure, though clearly he was signifying their importance over her, because where were all their wives? Were they off in some corner somewhere, all wondering whether their husbands would ever ask them to dance too?
‘Of course,’ she said, not wanting to rock the boat. She wasn’t sure what this discussion was about, its importance, so she didn’t want to crash some business deal by being difficult. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Simone was about to leave, when Leo smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. It was the smile she’d seen him give to countless numbers of people who he’d dismissed, who were unimportant to him. A smile that was a meaningless platitude. Something exploded inside of her, a volcanic type of sensation that burned from her solar plexus outwards. She gritted her teeth.
She was not going to keep herself in hiding, not any more.
She turned with as much composure as she could, then stalked off back through the crowd, not knowing where she was really headed. Her usually cool, calm demeanour shattered. There was a terrace she could go to, she supposed. Maybe she could grab a glass of champagne and cool off, when all she wanted to do was run raging into the night. Simone looked for a waiter as she neared the dance floor. The couples on it all swaying to the beat of a song designed for a slow dance.
‘Signora Zanetti.’
The voice made her stop, a familiar one she’d heard before, once, when after a number of approaches from recruiters and third parties, he’d called her personally to offer her a job. She turned and looked up at the imposing form of Rocco Silvestri.
‘Mr Silvestri.’
‘Rocco, please.’
Rocco and his father’s company made some of the finest and most sought-after designer furniture in the whole of Italy. Yet Leo refused to use any of it in his work. Anyone who worked in Circolo knew of Leo’s disdain, if not enmity, for the Silvestris. She’d never asked why as it hadn’t been relevant to her role. She’d thought it might have been that Leo and Rocco were the same age and both were eligible, Italian bachelors. Perhaps natural rivalry had morphed into something more than mere competitiveness. Style magazines often compared the two men, even though there was no comparison to be had. In her opinion, Leo won in all ways. Though Leo didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d hold a grudge for frivolous reasons. It had to be something more…
A question for another day.
‘Let’s not stand on formality. Call me Simone.’
The corner of Rocco’s mouth kicked up. He wore a tuxedo like Leo, but was somehow stockier, brawnier. More like a fighter, as opposed to Leo’s indefinable, almost aristocratic sophistication, which she realised now she preferred. Rocco was still a handsome man in his own right though, with his dark hair and dark eyes. Typical Italian good looks, she might have said. Simone could see why he always appeared to have a different woman on his arm. Although tonight he was without the usual female accompaniment.
‘Your husband wouldn’t like that.’
‘My husband isn’t here to express any thoughts on the subject.’
