Page 58

‘I have nothing left now to lose. And I want to keep it that way.’

It was impossible to argue with that.

‘I have to go home and get fresh clothes.’

‘Open your present.’

‘I don’t think capri pants will cut it for this meeting.’

‘Open it.’

Inside the bag was a box, tied with ribbon and sealed with wax—the wrapping a work of art in itself—but as she peeled back the tissue paper, she caught her breath.

‘The dress.’

It was folded in tissue paper, even pinned to hold perfect creases.

Not the same white dress, this one had been custom-made for her, and the linen chosen bore just the tiniest hint of dusty pink, the palest hint. Carefully, she took the pins from the paper. ‘It’s perfect.’ She looked over to the bed. ‘Thank you.’

Stella hung it in the bathroom as she had a shower.

And the terrible truth was, should he join her, she would let him.

Dignity, Stella, she reminded herself.

But given a choice, she’d never leave.

Instead of making a fool of herself, she pinned her hair and put on her gorgeous new dress.

He wolf-whistled her when she came out, and he was keeping things light, she knew, so she smiled and twirled.

‘I’ll call a driver.’

‘No, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m fine.’

‘I hope the proposal goes well.’

‘Thanks, and I hope things work out for you, Gabe.’

‘Of course they shall. I’ll be fine. I am the cat with nine lives.’

He’d survived everyone.

‘Buona fortuna,’ he called as she left his suite.

* * *

And when il Conte di Sant Lavia wished you good luck, naturally the stars obliged.

The proposal went well.

No doubt helped by the fact that the powerful people in the screening room were practically sold the second the Palazzo Rinaldi was named as the location.

Once they agreed, things moved quickly.

‘How much access will we have in the palazzo?’ Damon asked, his question aimed at Sir Charles.

‘Stella?’ Sir Charles offered her the response.