It took only minutes to unpack her overnight bag, discard her clothes and slip into the decadent marble en suite. For a moment she took an envious glance at the bath with its marbled surrounds and elegant fittings, before moving to the shower. A luxurious soak in decadent scented water was out of the question, and she quickly quelled the image as she turned the water dial.
There was no need to rush, and she took her time before drying off, then she wound a towel turban-style over her hair before slipping into fresh underwear, and tended to her make-up with a light hand, merely emphasizing her eyes, a touch of bronze blusher to each cheek, followed by a light gloss to her lips.
The classic little black dress with black stilettos was a safe choice.
She decided to sweep her hair into an elegant twist, which took several minutes to pin in place, and she added a subtle perfume to a few pulse points, attached diamond and ruby ear-studs and added a matching bracelet to her wrist.
Then she placed a red coat over her shoulders, collected an evening purse and joined Sophia at the head of the stairs.
‘You look lovely, cara,’ Sophia complimented, and Lily smiled as she tucked a hand inside her aunt’s elbow.
‘So do you.’ For Sophia bore a timeless elegance in whatever she chose to wear, she accorded with genuine admiration as they descended the stairs.
Alessandro was in the process of ending a call as they reached the spacious lounge, and she watched idly as he slipped the device into the inside pocket of his jacket before moving forward to greet them.
Attractive, intensely masculine in impeccable tailoring, white shirt in fine cotton, silk tie—he was something else, Lily perceived.
There was a depth to him, well hidden beneath the outer trappings his wealth could provide.
For a brief moment she sought to define it, and failed to adequately pin it down to any one quality.
Yet there was an instinctive sense of a need for self-preservation, a wariness that warned that when he played, he played to win. In any situation, be it a business deal, or a woman.
It wasn’t difficult to imagine the type of woman he would seek. Tall, slender, beautiful, a socialite who would be the perfect hostess, please him in bed, bear him the requisite heir and turn a blind eye when he sought out a mistress.
‘Charming,’ Alessandro accorded with a smile that encompassed both women, and Lily caught the faint gleam of humour as his eyes caught and held her own.
For a brief moment she had the uncanny feeling he’d read her mind. Something she immediately dismissed as being ridiculous, for she wasn’t that transparent … surely?
‘Shall we leave?’
The hotel was situated adjacent the neighboring Botanical
Gardens, and entrance into the hotel’s exclusive lobby revealed beautiful fittings and furnishings.
Directions to a private lounge where the designer after party was being held were on display, and Security checked invitations at the door.
Once inside, Lily was met with a wave of the beautiful people, a few recognizable actresses, a model or three among them, and an abundance of glitz and glamour.
Members of the paparazzi were there with camera flashbulbs snapping the rich and famous, and the not too discreet journalists rapidly recording names as they matched who was with whom.
Voices filled the room, vying with background music which fought to be heard above snatches of Italian, French and English.
The people, the fashions, the sheer ambience … It was, in a word, amazing.
‘Darling, you look absolutely stunning,’ a light feminine voice offered in gushing tones. ‘Who are you wearing?’
‘A British designer who’s making quite a name for herself.’
‘Really. Who?’
The name was lost as another voice intruded, male, this time.
‘Alessandro. Sophia.’ Dark eyes settled on Lily. ‘And this is?’
‘Francesco,’ Sophia acknowledged with polite charm. ‘Allow me to introduce my niece, Lily. Francesco Alverro.’
A tall man, whose practiced smile appeared exactly that—practiced—as Lily took the hand he extended. And ignored the silent invitation in the intimate press of his thumb against her palm.
‘We must get together.’
Not going to happen, she silently declined as she freed her hand.
‘We have a number of social engagements planned over the next few weeks,’ Sophia relayed with seeming regret.
‘At a few of which we’re bound to meet again.’
Lily felt the light touch of Alessandro’s hand at her waist, and managed not to freeze into immobility. What was he doing?
‘Perhaps,’ Alessandro conceded smoothly. ‘If you’ll excuse us?’
Francesco inclined his head, eyes gleaming with wicked recognition for an instant before he stepped aside.
‘I’m quite capable of judging men for myself,’ Lily intoned quietly minutes later as a guest engaged Sophia in conversation.
‘Of course you are,’ he agreed with the barest hint of cynicism, and she wanted to hit him for alluding to her disastrous relationship with James.
‘That was uncalled for.’
‘You would do well to steer clear. Francesco has a history of enjoying the chase, the capture, only to walk away.’
She met his dark gaze fearlessly. ‘Don’t most men?’
‘Not always.’
‘You, of course, are the exception,’ she dismissed in droll tones. ‘Which would explain why you’ve managed to avoid any commitment?’
His husky chuckle curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little. ‘Maybe I have yet to meet the one woman I would choose to share my life?’
‘Someone sufficiently brave not to pander to your ego?’
‘How … refreshing.’
‘You think?’ she offered with a faux smile, only to blink at a sudden flashbulb.
‘A new conquest, Signor del Marco?’ a feminine voice demanded, and thrust a small recording device close to him.
‘A friend,’ he responded with pseudo politeness, only to gain a knowing smile.
‘Are you going to divulge the lady’s name?’
Alessandro’s silence earned a light laugh in response. ‘I have my sources. Enjoy the party.’
‘Interesting,’ Lily declared with a tinge of humour when the woman had moved out of earshot. ‘Is it your celebrity or notoriety that draws attention?’
He subjected her to a steady appraisal. ‘You possess a sassy mouth.’
A swift shaft of sensation arrowed deep within, and for a timeless second she felt the breath hitch in her throat, then she recovered.
‘I believe it is a defence mechanism against men like you.’
‘You have no knowledge of what manner of man I am.’
Believe me, I don’t want to know.
So why this inclination to indulge in a tangle of words with him when instinct warned against it?
‘Should I dare to offer a homespun psychological assessment?’
She caught a glimpse of wry humour in his dark eyes, then it was gone. ‘You could