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‘I guess so,’ Lucy said. ‘But I am not doing anything with him. I am going home tomorrow,’ she stated as they approached the double doors. And if the Contessa noticed the hint of bitterness in her tone she did not remark on it.
Before they could walk through into the lounge, Lorenzo appeared.
‘Contessa … ‘ He spoke to her in Italian.
But she answered in English, with a mischievous glance at Lucy. ‘No need to apologise, Lorenzo, for not greeting me on arrival. I could see you were occupied with Signora Paglia, and Lucy more than made up for your lapse.’ As a put-down it was brilliant and she smiled at Lucy, her sparkling eyes brimming with merriment. ‘Lucy is going to show me her latest work of art—shall we, dear?’
Lorenzo stood frozen to the spot and watched as the two petite women—one old, one young—both beauties, walked into the lounge, the sound of their laughter floating back to him. He had never been so elegantly dismissed in his life.
He was about to follow them when Olivia caught his arm again.
‘Lorenzo, you never told me your little friend was an artist and had painted a portrait of your brother—how sweet. And she looks very sweet in that vintage dress. But secondhand clothes have never appealed to
me—I prefer new.’
He looked at the tall brunette hanging on his arm. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Didn’t you know? The Contessa gave Lucy the dress she is wearing. Teresa Lanza overheard them talking, and apparently the Contessa wore it the first time she met her husband. Heaven knows how many years ago that was, but at least it saved you having to buy one for your mother’s little protégée. She probably had nothing suitable for an occasion like this.’
Olivia really was a bitch, Lorenzo finally realised, and from now on Fedrico was going to have to look after his own business affairs. Disabled or not, there was nothing wrong with the man’s brain.
Shrugging off her arm, he said, ‘Excuse me,’ and strode into the lounge.
He spotted Lucy with the Contessa, sitting on a sofa with a group of people standing around them. Lucy was laughing at something young Paolo Paglia had said. Lorenzo took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and walked over to the group.
‘Champagne, Lucy?’
Lucy heard Lorenzo’s voice, though she had not seen him approach, and her smile dimmed as she looked up at him and took the glass he offered. If his interest in her had been genuine, and he’d seen her as more than just a body in his bed, he might have noticed she never drank the stuff.
She listened as he effortlessly joined the conversation. But his very presence so close was affecting her hard-won poise—and it was getting worse.
For a man who could hardly wait to get rid of her, and was prepared to pay to do so, he had an odd way of showing it, Lucy thought two hours later. Lorenzo had insisted on sticking with the Contessa and Lucy. He had totally charmed the Contessa, and kept touching Lucy—her arm, her waist. She knew it was just for show, but by the time he escorted them to the buffet laid out in the dining room she was beginning to wonder.
The Contessa left after the buffet, and the band began to play.
Lorenzo led Lucy on to the dance floor and took her in his arms. For a moment it was like the first time they’d danced together—a perfect fit. Held close against his long body, Lucy stopped wondering, and her soft heart began to hope.
Then Lorenzo burst her bubble by speaking.
‘Did you hope to insult me by wearing the gown the Contessa gave you?’
It was like a douche of ice water over her head.
‘Did I succeed?’ Lucy asked, stiffening in his arms.
His dark eyes clashed with hers, something moving in the inky depths. ‘Not really—it looks beautiful. But if you wanted a new dress you had only to ask. I would have bought you as many as you like.’
‘I think you have paid quite enough already to get me here,’ she said. ‘As have I. And isn’t it time you mingled with your other guests?’
‘You are right,’ he agreed. ‘Maybe I have been a little neglectful.’ And he led her off the dance floor and through into the lounge, where Anna sat with a few friends.
‘Watch what you say,’ Lorenzo murmured as he led her over and she sat down beside Anna on the sofa.
The doctor made way for her with a smile and, perching on the cushioned arm. Lorenzo said a few words to the small group which made them smile.
Lucy managed not to flinch as he finally glanced down at her and she recognised the familiar ruthlessness in the tight line of his mouth.
‘I’ll see you later, cara.’
