Chapter 30
We ate dinner at the palazzo's fanciest restaurant, sharing a moment of alone time before we were set to meet up with the person behind Alessandro's latest business negotiation. Then hitting up the streets of Florence, we caught a limo to an exclusive night club. Even on a weeknight there were people lined up outside, shivering under heavy coats and watching us with interest as we bypassed the line and went right in. The club was dark, purple and blue strobe lighting sweeping the busy floor in time to the heavy throb of music. His hand never leaving the small of my back, Alessandro led us up a flight of metal stairs to an area that had been roped off for VIPs. Two of the biggest bouncers I had ever seen stepped aside to let us pass.
"Alessandro!" A remarkably handsome and somewhat familiar looking man was sitting in a round booth, his arm draped over the shoulder of a woman who could have easily passed as a model. She was stunning.
"Luca," said Alessandro. Handing our jackets to an attendant, he slipped into a seat opposite and I hoped in beside him.
Oh, so this was Alessandro's infamous cousin. Which meant the woman sitting under his arm was his lover. For some reason, my first thought was that she didn't look dressed like British junior royalty. Nor did she seem particularly pregnant either.
Luca took a moment to look me over, blatant appraisal showing in his eyes as he regarded me in my red dress that still managed to contain almost twice the amount of fabric than the little number his lady friend was wearing. Then his glance shooting back to Alessandro, he basically forgot I was there.
"What happened to Lydia?" he asked.
"We broke up," Alessandro said in total indifference.
Luca blinked at this. "Are you kidding me? The woman is a bombshell. She couldn't keep her hands off you."
I tried not to let my reaction show but the clenching of Alessandro's hand over my thigh indicated that he was well aware of the fact that I'd gone rigid as a pole. Luca gave me another once over. I could see it in the way he looked at me there was confusion in his expression. His lips pursed as if to say, 'you traded her in for this oompa-loompa?'
"That's neither here nor there, Luca. Where's Olivia?" Alessandro's question couldn't have sounded more like a snarl if he tried. His hand left my thigh and snaked around my shoulders.
Luca glowered at him. "She's at the villa." Then switched to Italian.
The two men spoke like this for several minutes until the woman sitting with Luca huffed in impatience. Not taking his eyes off Alessandro, he told her something in Italian and nodded his head toward the dance floor. Realising that she wasn't going to get his attention anytime soon, she slipped from the booth and disappeared down the steps into the night club.
"You should join her."
It took me a moment to register that Luca was talking to me. I shot Alessandro a sideways glance and watched his lip twitch before he hesitantly nodded. "I won't be much longer."
I slid from the booth, feeling very self-conscious at the two sets of eyes that watched me quietly leave the lounge. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. I hadn't been to a nightclub since University and even then it had been in the company of friends. I found the bar and ordered a drink, opting to watch the way people's bodies moved about the dance floor. Music thumped in my ear like a constant heartbeat, the DJ blared something in Italian and the crowd cheered. He put on another track that sounded identical to the last and the people kept dancing. I finished my drink but there was still no sign of Alessandro. I ordered another one. By the time I'd finished that, I was starting to feel a little braver. Should I have a go at dancing? I spotted Luca's lady-friend-who-wasn't-Olivia moving seductively between two men, happy that someone was paying her some attention, I guess. Did she even know that Luca had potentially knocked up a married woman? By the way he was acting around Alessandro, he didn't seem too worried by it all, or the scandal it was causing. Did he have any idea of the hoops Alessandro was jumping through to sort this mess out for him?
I stole a glance back up at the table where Alessandro and Luca sat. It was dark so I couldn't make much out but I could tell by the sharp hand gestures made by both men, the discussion was getting super heated. Cousin or not, maybe Alessandro should just fire that jerk. I turned back to my drink and that was when I noticed a man had swooped in to meet me.
"Nel cielo manca un angelo?" I practically jumped sideways at the striking Italian man who was suddenly standing beside me. Was it me or did he seem to slip in and out of focus? "Ti va di ballare con me?"
Dressed smartly in slacks and a shirt that had been left unbuttoned half way down his chest, he watched me with the cool, seductive gaze that his species was famous for. I blinked at him, my brain desperately trying to translate what I'd managed to hear over the music.
Angelo. Angel.
Ballare. Dance?
He confirmed my guess when he grabbed my hand and, pulling me from my seat he attempted to tug me toward the floor. Then half a second later he was dropping it like a hot potato. I sensed the tall body slide up to me from behind. The familiar scent of Alessandro's cologne hit me and I relaxed into the protective hand that found the small of my back. Alessandro didn't need to say anything, the guy understood the possessive gesture completely and slunk away, opting to look elsewhere for a dance partner.
"I knew I couldn't leave you out of my sights," I heard his deep growl against my ear and a shiver rattled its way down my spine.
Alessandro placed my coat over my shoulders and his hand snaking around my hip, he moved me toward the exit.
"But what if I wanted to stay and dance?" I said in mock protest. Why was the world still spinning?
"Dance at home," he said. "For me. In private." With no clothes on.
I grinned at the blatant suggestion, going to hit him with a witty reply when I staggered in my shoes and fell back into him. Alessandro caught me by the waist and the giggle burst from my lips. For some reason I was having difficulty walking and talking at the same time.
"Are you... drunk?" Alessandro's shock was blatant.
I frowned in protest. "No! I only had two drinks."
"Of what?"
I opened my mouth to answer and then realised that I had no idea. I'd ordered it in Italian.
"Madre di Dio," I heard him rumble next to me. "You are drunk!"
"More like tipsy!" I protested.
We made it to the exit, the blast of cool air almost managing to snap me from my dizziness. The faces that watched us were a blur but all I could concentrate on was putting one foot in front of the other and trying not to stack it on the pavement. The driver held the limo door open for us and Alessandro practically stuffed me inside before sliding in after me where we sat in silence. I was aware of him contemplating beside me but was suddenly too tired to care. I put my head against the rest in attempt to stop the world from spinning… and then the next thing I knew I was waking up in a bed.
The first thing that assaulted me when I opened my eyes was the headache. With the thick curtains drawn, there was barely enough sunlight to see by but I still groaned and yanked the blanket over my head. Was I naked? Alessandro was sitting up in the bed beside me, tapping away at his tablet.
"There are pain killers and water on the bedside table, cara."
I caught a peek at him through a gap in the doona. He'd barely looked in my direction when he spoke. Instead, he was frowning at the tablet screen, the muscles in his jaw popping as his teeth clenched in exasperation. I knew that expression. Something was bothering him.
"What is it?" I asked.
I gingerly pulled myself upright and squinted at the thumping in my head. I reached for the painkillers. Alessandro rubbed the bridge of his nose, lips pressed together like he couldn't decide what would bother me more; showing me the source of his frustrations or keeping it to himself. I solved that for him by reaching over to his tablet and tilted it so that I could catch a glimpse at the screen, and suddenly there was very little to stop me from throwing up. Alessandro and I were all over the tabloids, pictures of us stepping from the club and him escorting my drunk ass to the limo. Then there were still more of me, completely passed out while Alessandro cradled me in his arms and carried me into the Palazzo. My dress was hitched so far up my thighs that all I could see... All anyone could see… Was a whole lot of leg.
"Oh my god."
The headlines screamed in Italian, something that I could not translate.
"Oh god." I could feel myself turning green. "I think I want to throw up. I'm so sorry Alessandro."
"Not important." He turned off the tablet and placed it on the bedside table.
"No seriously, I think I'm goin-" I didn't get to finish that sentence before I felt the bile reach my throat. I staggered from the bed and bolted for the bathroom.
By the time I'd finished purging my already empty stomach into the toilet, Alessandro was hovering in the doorway like a concerned parent. "Lizzie, are you ok?"
"Never felt better." I dabbed my face with a wet wash cloth, then shoving a toothbrush into my mouth, scrubbed at my tongue until it felt raw. God. This was a disaster. "I wanted to make a good first impression on people and I totally blew it because, as it turns out, I'm a total lightweight with alcohol."
"A nightclub is hardly a good place to make any sort of good impression. I shouldn't have taken you there. The fault is mine."
I shuffled past him and flopped back on the bed with a loud sigh, squinting as my head reminded me it was still in pain. "This isn't fair. None of it is."
"Try not to think about it, Lizzie, these things will clear up in the end."
"That's easy for you to say. Everybody loves you. Women swoon over you and men want to be you."
I felt the mattress move as Alessandro joined me back on the bed. I turned my head to catch his hungry gaze as he took in my still-naked body. Even though he was dressed in loose pyjama pants and a tank, he still looked breathtakingly handsome.
"You smell minty," he said.
I chuckled. "It beats smelling like puke. How did the meeting go with Luca?"
Alessandro breathed a long sigh. "As well as one can expect when you're dealing with a stubborn, horny Italian."
"Are you talking about you or Luca?" I winked and Alessandro all but rolled his eyes.
"I think the enormity of the situation he's gotten himself into is finally impacting him. He acted out last night by going to a club just to," he make talking marks with his fingers, "forget everything."
"Meanwhile the woman he got pregnant is at his villa?"
"Sì," Alessandro nodded. "She is nine months along an about ready to have the baby. Luca is one hundred percent certain the baby is his. Apparently he is the only man Olivia has slept with for over a year."
My eyebrows rose at that. "Apart from her husband you man?"
"No, that includes her husband. Apparently they live in separate houses. He's more than twice her age."
I suddenly wanted to throw up again at that. I rolled onto my side to meet him and he took to feathering his fingers up and down my hip.
"How is your head?" asked Alessandro. Your eyes are still bloodshot."
Even despite the mild hangover, I still found myself shivering at his light touch.
"I'll survive," I husked, my nipples hardening into firm peaks which didn't escape his notice.
"Good. Because I have plans for us today."
His wandering hand found a breast and I sucked in a breath as he drew it into his mouth, his tongue ever-so-gently rolling around my nipple. I heaved a moan at the spark of molten heat that rolled its way down to my pelvis. My body moved on its own accord, instinctively trying to press into him but just then he grunted and stayed me with a firm hand.
"No, not now." I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince - me or himself. His head came up, blue eyes crashing into me and stilling me in my place. "Later. Right now, we have an appointment with the Galleria degli Uffizi to keep."
He rose from the bed and promptly stripped out of his PJs.
"The Uffizi Gallery?" I said, my heart skipping in my chest from a mix of the sudden burst of excitement and the impromptu striptease. The Uffizi Gallery was on my list of top places I wanted to visit. How did he even know that? Probably because he was a closet nerd-cum-historian like me.
"Sì. I've organised a private tour. That is if it's something you would like to-?"
"Yes!" I didn't give him time to finish the question. With an excited squeal I leapt off the bed and made a bolt for the bathroom. "I have enough time to shower right?"
Out of habit, Alessandro glanced at his empty wrist where his watch normally sat. "Make it quick!"
Having no crowds and no queues to contend with, the Uffizi Gallery, with its incredible collection of priceless Italian Renaissance works, was breathtaking. This wasn't just art, it was history and the historians in us were enraptured beyond reason. Alessandro talked endlessly as we explored the space, sharing his own insights and pointing out his favourite pieces that inspired many of his restorations. His passion for the topic bubbled over like a pot overflowing and I didn't manage to get a word in edgewise. But that didn't matter because just being able to share something with him that we both found such pleasure in was reward enough in itself. We spent the entire morning exploring the space, then after a light lunch, we moved onto the Galleria dell'Accademia where the famous Statue of David called home, before finally taking to the streets of Florence to continue our exploration. The Florence Cathedral was spectacular and The Ponte Vecchio – a medieval arched bridge packed with souvenir, art and jewellery shops - was crowded beyond reason but full of such vibrancy that it was hard not to get caught up in it. Alessandro revelled in buying me jewellery that I was convinced was far too overpriced, and in the subsequent argument that ensued, I came to the realisation that the billionaire really had no concept of what the average person found expensive. Several thousand euros was nothing, mere pocket change not even worth his notice. Needless to say, the jewellery vendors were very appreciative of our patronage and welcomed us back any time.
Somewhere on our exploration I discovered a store that sold the most stunning handmade vintage-style clothing I had ever seen. A dress caught my eye in the shop window; brilliant red with huge white polka dots. I stopped dead in my tracks, Alessandro, who was holding my hand at the time, practically flinging backward into me. Then before he even realised what was going on I'd turned and bolted right into the store. An hour and yet another argument over who was paying later and Alessandro was arranging a courier to cart all of my purchases back to our suite.
"You haven't let me use my own allowance once today," I pouted as we continued on our way down the river, hand in hand. The sun was slowly easing its way down, alighting the sky in a gorgeous array of reds and golds. The day, even despite the cool breeze, had turned out perfect.
Alessandro was unapologetic. "You'll get a chance to use it soon. Can't you just let me spoil you, cara? It's what I want to do."
"You're spoiling me rotten, that's what you're doing, caro."
Alessandro smirked. "And you think I'm not already spoiled rotten myself? Sometimes it's nice to be able to share around the rottenness."
I laughed at that and he kissed my hand where a brand new sapphire and diamond ring sat.
"How is your head, Lizzie?"
I shrugged. "It's better. I think I'm mostly just tired. It's my feet that are killing me now. I haven't done this much walking since I lived in Paris."
Alessandro quirked an eyebrow. "You lived in Paris?"
I nodded. "I rented a room in one of the art districts for a couple of months."
"Which district?" he asked
I chuckled. "Most likely nowhere near your hotels or your Paris apartment."
A look of confusion crossed his face. I could tell what he was thinking. He didn't remember enlightening me on such details. "How did you know I have an apartment in Paris?"
"Oh just an educated guess." I gave him the impish bite of my lip. "I mean all of the billionaires in the romance books have apartments in Paris, I'm surprised you don't have an entire district named after you guys.
Alessandro burst out laughing at that, his head falling into a knowing nod. "It's true. And we probably do have a district named after us."
"District Zero," I teased. "The exclusive district where billionaires like to play."
"Where the streets are made of platinum and even the toilets have chandeliers," he added.
"And champagne," I said. "To drink on your golden thrones."
Alessandro chuckled, then something caught his attention and his mouth snapped shut. I followed his gaze to a man who was in the process of scooting down a side street. There was a camera hanging from his neck.
"It seems we've been spotted," Alessandro rumbled.
I swallowed down the sudden pit of unease, my body going rigid at the thought of my private moment with Alessandro being invaded like that. It had nothing to do with anyone else but him and me. Had that man been following us all day? My thoughts immediately raced back through the things we had gotten up to, trying to pick up on anything that the media could use to blow out of proportion and sensationalise but then had to realise this was the media, they didn't need to look for things to report, they just made up most of this stuff anyway. I felt my stomach sink.
"What do you think they're going to say this time?" Even despite trying to keep it level, my voice came out as an uneasy stutter. The only thing I could be thankful for was at least Alessandro wasn't carrying my passed-out ass through a hotel foyer this time.
"Don't let them bother you, Lizzie. Forget about them." Alessandro slipped a protective hand around my waist. "Come. I've made dinner reservations."
