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Her reluctance annoyed him, but it also made him even more determined. He would win her yet. Whatever aspect of their inevitable relationship Mia was resisting, Alessandro would discover it and deal with it.
Which, he realised uncomfortably, did make this all seem a bit like the takeover she’d suggested. But it wasn’t, not like that. It was just…strategy. Common sense.
He slid his hand into the pocket of his jacket, his fingers curling around the small black velvet box. Nothing, he told himself. Mia would find fault with nothing. He’d make sure of it.
An hour later, Alessandro had changed into a tuxedo and was waiting for Mia in the living room of the suite, trying to curb his impatience. It felt as if she’d been in the bedroom for ages, and he’d heard the chatter and giggles drift out as he’d wondered just how long it took to find a dress.
‘She’s ready,’ the stylist, Elena, sang out as she came into the living room, followed by her bevy of assistants. ‘And she’s perfect.’ She simpered at Alessandro before she thankfully excused herself, her assistants following, so Alessandro and Mia would be alone. He would be sent the undoubtedly outrageous bill later.
‘Mia…?’ Alessandro called when she still hadn’t come out after Elena had left. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Yes. Sorry.’ With a nervous little laugh, she stepped out of the bedroom. Alessandro sucked in his breath. He’d already seen her in an evening gown, a year ago, when he’d lost his head over the slender woman dancing in his arms.
Tonight he felt himself lose everything else. His mind emptied and his heart tumbled in his chest as Mia smiled uncertainly. ‘Do you…do you like it?’
‘I love it,’ he assured her huskily. The gown was a pale, creamy ivory, with a delicate overlay of gold lace. Strapless, with a full skirt, it reminded him of a wedding dress, and that seemed appropriate indeed. ‘Your hair…’ he murmured, coming forward to loop one golden curl around his finger.
‘She curled it,’ Mia said nervously. ‘I’ve never had curly hair before.’
‘It’s gorgeous.’ Half being pinned up, the other half tumbled over her shoulders in glossy, golden waves and curls. Gently, his finger still twined in her hair, Alessandro tugged her towards him. Mia came, a smile trembling on her lips.
‘Alessandro…’
‘You’re so beautiful, Mia. Even more beautiful now that you’re a mother.’
‘No…’ She let out an uncertain laugh. ‘I haven’t lost all of my baby weight…’
‘I don’t want you to. You’re perfect just as you are.’ He knew it sounded like well-worn flattery, but the truth was he meant every word. He wasn’t saying it to please her or to get what he wanted, as she so often seemed to suspect, but because he needed to. Because it was right, and it was the truth.
Which was why he had to kiss her, as well.
‘Mia…’ Her name was a question and as she moved closer, her silence was his answer. He placed one hand on her bare shoulder, her skin cool and soft beneath his palm. Then he brushed his lips across hers, softly first, another question.
And she answered again with silence, her mouth opening under his, a thousand times yes. Here was another truth, in the simple purity of their kiss, their lips joining together in a brief moment that spun on and on as Alessandro deepened the kiss, unable to keep himself from it, losing himself in her soft and willing response.
Mia clutched his shoulders as she anchored herself to him, to their kiss, and the world seemed to spin around them. It was just a kiss, and yet so much more. It felt like a promise as well as a seal.
Finally Alessandro lifted his head, breathing raggedly, dazed by the intensity of the moment. Mia blinked back at him, her fingers at her lips. Neither of them spoke.
Alessandro felt the weight of the black velvet box in his pocket, and he almost reached for it. Now was the perfect moment—and yet perhaps too perfect. The last thing he wanted was for Mia to think he was orchestrating the moment when in truth he’d been felled by it…as she seemed to have been.
So instead he left it where it was, and smiled at her instead. And, needing no words, he took her by the hand and led her from the room, out into the warm, spring night and the promise it surely held.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MIA’S HEAD WAS SPINNING. Her lips were buzzing. And as she and Alessandro moved through the party, meeting and chatting to people, she wondered if she was falling yet again for the fairy tale. Just as before, she was Cinderella for a night, and yet so much more was at stake. Her whole life. Ella’s life. Their future together. It all felt as if it hung in the balance now; all she needed to do was say yes.
And for once, with the memory of Alessandro’s kiss on her lips, she didn’t want to wonder or doubt. She
wanted to enjoy the fairy tale; she wanted, at least for tonight, to trust Alessandro’s tempting promises. To believe in them and let them sweep her along.
For once she wanted to resist not only Alessandro, but also her own negative history, her persistent belief and fear that keeping herself apart from Alessandro was the only way to stay strong. To feel independent. What if staying strong could mean something else? It could mean choosing him, rather than fighting him. Was it possible?
She pressed her fingers to her lips as she recalled yet again that heart-stopping, breath-stealing kiss. Alessandro had seemed as affected as she’d been. For a few moments, they’d shared something wonderful.
But was it—could it be—real?
Dared she let it be real in her own mind, never mind Alessandro’s?
