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More importantly, it was exactly the right thing for her to say. When he was a young man, her father had just wanted to be rich and powerful, but now what he wanted most was to be accepted in society on an equal footing by people like the Trapanis.
‘Of course—you’re right,’ he said, and Imma felt her heart begin to beat faster as Vicenzu held out his arm.
‘Shall we?’ he said softly.
Her heart bumping into her ribs, she wondered how he managed to imply so much in two little words. And then, doing her best to ignore the hard swell of his bicep, she followed Claudia and Ciro towards the circus-tent-sized marquee, where the wedding breakfast was being held.
Inside it was impossibly romantic, and Imma felt her stomach flip over as Vicenzu led her to their flower-strewn table. She was already regretting defying her father. Vicenzu Trapani probably flirted in his sleep and she needed to remember that—not let the emotion of the day or his dark eyes suggest anything different.
‘So, Vicenzu,’ she said quickly, before he had a chance to speak, ‘I’ve heard so much about your hotel. Tell me...how many people work at La Dolce Vita?’
Dropping down next to her, he frowned. ‘Well, Immacolata, that’s a tricky one. Let me see... I guess, on a good day, probably about forty percent of them.’
The smile tugging at his mouth was impossible to resist, and of their own accord her lips started to curl upward, like the sun rising in the morning sky.
‘I know—you think they should all be working. And you’re right. I need to crack the whip a bit.’
As his smile slowly unfurled, she felt her stomach flicker like a flame in a breeze. ‘I meant—’ she began.
He was grinning now. ‘I’m just teasing. The answer is I don’t know or care. All I know is I get to enjoy your company for the foreseeable future. And, as you’re the most beautiful woman in this tiny, unassuming tent...’ he glanced mockingly around the vast marquee ‘...that makes me the luckiest man on earth.’
A cool shiver ran over her skin. Her heart was suddenly beating so fast she felt it might burst free of her ribs.
‘Really?’ She met his gaze calmly, even as his words resounded inside her head.
‘Really. Truly. Absolutely. Unequivocally. Did I say that right?’
She saw his eyes light up as she smiled. ‘Yes, only that doesn’t make it true.’
‘But why would I lie?’
His tone was still playful, but he was staring at her intently.
‘Look, I’m not good for much—just ask anyone who knows me...’
He leaned forward so that he was filling her view, and she felt her skin grow hot and tight as he stared down at her steadily.
‘But I am a connoisseur of beauty, and you are a very beautiful woman.’
For a second or three the world seemed to stop—or at least the hubbub in the tent faded to a dull hum beneath the uneven thump of her heartbeat. He probably said that to every woman he met, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from hoping that he was telling the truth.
He took her hand and she felt her stomach flutter. But he didn’t kiss it. Instead he turned her arm over and examined the skin on her wrist.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Looking for chinks in your armour,’ he murmured.
There was a brief shifting silence, and then he glanced up as waiters began filing into the marquee.
‘Great—it’s time to eat.’
His eyes met hers, soft and yet intense in a way that made her breathing knot.
‘Let’s hope the food is as delectable as my hostess,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been hungrier...’
* * *
The food had been incredible. Seven courses accompanied by a note-perfect string quartet. Then there had been speeches, and now Claudia was leaning into Cesare as they slowly circled in the traditional father-and-daughter dance.
