‘Which makes me a lucky man. Where were you going in such a hurry?’
A loaded question, she was sure. Did it mean he’d been watching her? The burn might still be in her gut at Leo’s rejection but she wasn’t one to air her grievances in public. Especially not with someone who Leo viewed as a kind of enemy. She was angry, not petty.
‘I was about to find myself a drink, whilst waiting for Leo to join me.’
‘Why don’t I find one for you?’ Rocco made a minute gesture with his hand, and a waiter arrived like magic. She took a glass of champagne from the man’s tray with thanks and sipped the chilled bubbles. Rocco took a dark, blood-coloured glass of red wine for himself.
‘If I were your husband, I wouldn’t be leaving you alone like this. You never know who you might run into.’
She laughed, seeing this for what it was, a kind of harmless flirtation. Probably begun by Rocco to annoy Leo.
‘I’m sure I’m safe enough.’
‘I’m gratified by your confidence. And why is Zanetti keeping you waiting?’
The hair prickled at the back of her neck in warning. ‘Oh, you know. Business.’
Rocco lifted the glass of red to his lips, took a hefty swig. ‘When there’s so much pleasure to be had? What a waste.’
The band struck up another tune. This one jauntier, less romantic. She looked over at the couples there, smiling, having fun.
When was the last time she’d done the same? As Rocco had said, it seemed like such a waste. Especially this existence of work and little else. She could have fallen down a flight of stairs and never regained consciousness, and what would she have achieved out of life? Simone wasn’t sure she liked the answer.
‘You want to dance.’
It wasn’t a question. She hated that she was so transparent.
‘Yes. But I’m sure my husband will be along soon.’
Rocco snorted. Clearly not believing her. ‘Why not dance with me?’
‘You still have a glass of wine to drink.’
‘What’s a glass of wine when I can dance with a beautiful woman?’
‘Now you’re trying to flatter me.’
‘I’m telling the truth. You’d know that if your husband told you often enough.’
If they had that sort of marriage, Rocco might be right. Still, they were admissions she couldn’t make.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Perhaps it means more coming from him.’
Rocco smacked his palm to his chest as if she’d shot him through the heart. Then he started laughing. Warm, genuine and if she wasn’t mistaken, a little chastened.
‘I’m wounded, Signora Zanetti. And it’s only a dance.’
She wasn’t so sure about that, but right now, she didn’t much care. Anyhow, she’d dealt with a hundred men like Rocco Silvestri before. She could do it again.
‘Then it would be my pleasure.’
Rocco reached out and Simone handed him her glass. He found another waiter and deposited both on their tray and came back to her. Then he crooked his arm.
‘Shall we?’
She slipped her arm through his as he led her to the dance floor. The couples there made way for them. Some looking on in interest. Most, absorbed only in each other. As they moved into the crowd, he eased one hand round her waist, took hers in the other. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, the fabric of his suit, cool under her palm. Rocco didn’t try to pull her closer than he should for two strangers, keeping a respectable distance. The music’s rhythm singing through her as they began to move, even though this didn’t feel as seamless as it had with Leo on their wedding day. Like a shoe that was a bit too small. Like it wasn’t quite the right fit.
But she wasn’t looking for the right fit with Rocco Silvestri, she was just looking for fun. To find the woman she’d lost so long ago, through her family’s rejection, the hard work she’d had to put in to break away, to earn her own money. She’d lost part of herself in trying to make something of her life so she could support herself, and now, support her sister. It was time to rediscover who Simone Taylor really was.
