counting on it,” her father said, stepping forward. Tall and distinguished with a hint of gray at his temples, his eyes were the same slate blue as his daughter’s. That was where their similarities began and ended.
Eschewing the embrace he knew Angie would reject, he shook Lorenzo’s hand. “Angelina knows how thrilled I am to see her back where she belongs.”
Back where she belongs? A surge of antagonism pulsed through her. She wouldn’t be in this situation if her father hadn’t allowed his arrogance to blind him to the business realities staring him in the face. He was using her as a pawn and showed not the slightest conscience about it.
Lorenzo read the tension in her body, his palm tightening at her back. “My parents are in town next week,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps you can join us for dinner? It would be nice for us all to reconnect.”
Angie’s back went ramrod-straight as her mother gushed on about how lovely that would be. It wasn’t lovely, it was the worst idea ever. To put Saint Octavia, Lorenzo’s supremely dignified mother, in a room with her own, given Della Carmichael’s loose-wheel status of late, was a recipe for disaster.
Thankfully they were saved from discussing it further as the first guests began to arrive.
* * *
Hand at his wife’s back, Lorenzo greeted the arrivals. Guest after guest arrived in cars piloted by drivers who would spirit them from party to party that evening. His wife grew stiffer and stiffer with each new arrival and the open curiosity about their newly resurrected relationship. By the time Marc Bavaro, the CEO of the Belmont Hotel Group, arrived with his beautiful redheaded girlfriend, Penny, Angie had perfected her plastic self.
Lorenzo’s inability to understand what was happening to her, as his need to connect on a personal level with Bavaro pressed on his brain, made his impatience boil over.
“That’s Marc Bavaro and his girlfriend walking in now,” he murmured in his wife’s ear. “Can we try for happy just for the next few minutes? Less like you’re facing the executioner being by my side?”
Angelina pasted a smile on her face. “Of course,” she said sweetly. “Your wish is my command.”
Even without her real smile, his wife captivated Marc Bavaro. The CEO’s leisurely once-over of Angelina’s red dress, despite the stunning date at his side, made his wife’s cheeks redden. So Marc Bavaro did have a roving eye, as advertised. Lorenzo couldn’t necessarily blame him, given Angie’s ability to mesmerize any red-blooded male with whom she came into contact.
He tightened his fingers around her waist. “Great that you could make it,” he said to Marc. “Good to get out of the boardroom.”
“Agreed.” But Bavaro still wore the cagey expression that had been making Lorenzo mental as they debated the last few points of the deal.
“Your necklace is beautiful,” Penny said to Angie. “Is it one of yours?”
“Yes. Thank you. It’s one of my favorite recent pieces.”
“I love your stuff.” Penny threw Marc a wry glance. “I’ve given him lots of hints on what he can buy me for my birthday.”
“Perhaps you’d like to come in to the studio and I’ll design something for you?”
The redhead’s eyes widened. “Would you?”
“Of course.” Angelina slid Lorenzo a glance that said she was playing the game for now. “Why don’t I introduce Penny around while you two talk business?”
Penny agreed and the two women set off through the crowd. Bavaro’s eyes trailed after Angelina. “That’s quite a dress.”
“It is,” Lorenzo agreed, amused. He didn’t doubt the connection he and Angie had. It ruled out any other male as a threat. He was content to play the waiting game when it came to bedding his wife. Figuring out what was going on in her head was another matter entirely.
He nodded at Marc. “Let’s find a quiet place to talk.”
* * *
By the time Angie had introduced Penny around to anyone the real estate broker might have found interesting or useful, she’d had enough of this party for a lifetime. She hated small talk with a passion, had always dreaded the legendary Carmichael parties she’d been forced to attend, not to mention the fact that all roads seemed to lead back to her and Lorenzo’s unexpected reconciliation in the sly side conversations she was drawn into.
“I thought maybe there was a baby in the works,” joked their next-door neighbor. “But clearly that can’t be true. That dress is amazing on you.”
After the last, thinly veiled attempt to pry the story out of her, she returned Penny to Marc. The Belmont CEO asked her to dance in turn, and Penny didn’t seem to mind, so Angie accepted, eager to get away from prying eyes. Marc was a good dancer and conversationalist. He was charming, despite Lorenzo’s depiction of him as a shark.
They danced two dances before Lorenzo cut in. “I’m not sure if I should lock you up or use you as a weapon,” he murmured as he took her in his arms. “Bavaro is like a puppy salivating after a bone.”
“Ah, but I don’t have a purpose tonight.” Sarcasm stained her voice. “I’m just supposed to be me in all my glory. The woman you appreciate.”
His lips curved. Bending his head, he brought his mouth to her ear. “I do appreciate you in that dress. It screams ‘take me,’ mia cara. Too bad we are still learning to communicate verbally. The timing is all off.”
Fire licked up her spine. He pulled her closer, a possessive hand resting on her hip, his splayed fingers burning into her skin. A slow curl of heat unraveled inside of her. She’d enjoyed her dance with Marc—he was handsome by any woman’s standards and equally charismatic. But being in Lorenzo’s arms was a whole different story. Dancing with her husband was...electrifying.
Her nerve endings sizzled as her hips brushed against his muscular thighs, erotic tension in every muscle. The masculine warmth of him bled into her, heating her blood, weakening her knees. She took a deep breath to center herself, but it was his dark, delicious scent that filled her head, heightening her confusion.
She stepped back, putting some distance between them, heart thudding in her chest. His ebony eyes glittered with a banked heat, moving over her face in a silent study. “Thank you for offering to design the piece for Penny. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s fine.” The husky edge to her voice made her wince. You hate him, remember? He had just turned her life upside down.
“Perhaps we will make that superior team,” he suggested on a speculative note, eyes holding hers. “If you manage to move past that anger you’re holding so tightly to.”
Her gaze dropped away from his. She focused on the other guests, sticking determinedly to her vow to keep her shields bulletproof when it came to her husband.
A high-pitched laugh stole her attention. The blood in her veins turned to ice. Whipping her head around, she found her mother in the crowd, talking to a well-known society columnist, a glass of champagne in her hand. Oh, no! She’d found someone to enable her.
Panicked, she scanned the crowd for her sister. Abigail was all the way across the terrace in a group of people. She looked back at her mother, champagne sloshing from her glass as she laughed at something the columnist had said. It was not her first drink.
“Your mother is in fine form,” Lorenzo said mildly.
Her brain frozen, she just stared at him. When the music ended, she slipped out of his arms. “Keep socializing,” she said, nodding at Marc. “Abigail’s just waved for me to go meet someone.”
He frowned at her. “Are you okay?”
“Perfect. Back in a minute.” With as blasé a smile as she could manage, she set off through the crowd. Approaching