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“I’ll do my best, for you, old friend.” He plastered a smile on his face. One that Davi
es immediately recognised as long suffering. He laughed, as he moved through the crowd, wondering how he and the antisocial megalomaniacal tycoon had ever become such firm friends. For as gregarious and outspoken as Henning Davies was, Luca Abramo was brooding and watchful. A true case of opposites attracting.
At least the music was good, Luca thought, focussing on the upbeat saxophone solo that was coming from behind him. As he turned towards the band, he saw her again. Now, she was talking to a group, gesticulating wildly as she told some kind of story. She didn’t simply speak though. Her whole body seemed to resonate with the purpose of relating a tale; arms, hands, head, legs. Every part of her was pressed into service. There were six or seven people listening, most of them men.
Possessive jealousy warred with curiosity.
He didn’t like the way the other men were looking at her. Such clear devotion. Complete interest. Slavish desire.
He shook his head and looked away. The waitress was moving in his direction, a tray of cocktails balanced on the upturned palm of her hand. Luca watched distractedly as the waitress weaved in and out of the partygoers, casually surveying and inspecting. As she neared the blonde, a man lifted his hand, and it caught the edge of the tray. It sent it flying right out of the waitress’s hand, and down to the polished marbled ground.
With an enormous noise, the glasses splintered into pieces, spilling their expensive, bright liquid everywhere.
Luca straightened immediately, ready to intervene. But a strange watchfulness kept him still.
The rest of the room silenced. The band lulled for a moment. Haughty expressions were raised, whilst not a hand was lifted.
In a sea of people, only the blonde seemed to react. With alacrity, she lifted a hand to her mouth and gasped, the sound tearing through the silent room.
“Oh, goodness!” Her voice, when he first heard it, was so much softer than he’d expected. More common, too. “We must have bumped you. I’m terribly sorry. Are you hurt?” She cut across the short distance to the shocked looking waitress and cupped a hand on her wrist.
Enchanted, Luca watched as the blonde leaned closer and whispered something into the waitress’s ear. He had to strain to hear, and only the fact that he was just metres away made it at all possible. “Don’t be upset, it’s not your fault. You’re not the first person to have spilled a drink!”
The waitress smiled nervously, then crouched to the ground.
The blonde’s face reflected her consternation. “Connor, get some towels.”
The banker seemed discomforted, but he hid it swiftly. It was obvious that he wanted to impress the gorgeous woman. Enough to play along with her rescue mission. The band began to play their songs again, the conversations started to swirl in a normal patter, and Luca Abramo allowed himself to admit that he was properly interested.
Not just because she was beautiful.
No. He was interested because she was compassionate. And that was a rare quality indeed, particularly in the social circles he moved in. With that one move, she’d taken herself out of column A and straight into column B, for Bed.
He was only human, after all.
Luca was wryly amused when Connor returned with several extra wait staff instead of the towels. Evidently, getting help was the same to him as being of help. To be fair to the man, he was wearing an expensive tuxedo, and he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would risk his own clothing being destroyed because of a clumsy waitress.
Casually, on the pretence of studying another painting, Luca moved closer.
“I’m such a clutz,” the waitress whispered. “Thank you for being so kind.”
The blonde shook her head. “Not at all. It could have happened to anyone. This place is packed so full there’s barely room to move.”
“Thank you again.”
The waitress moved away, her cheeks flaming, as her colleagues continued to efficiently remove any trace of the accident. And it had been an accident. A simple slip of the hand, the breaking of some glass, the spilling of some drinks. But it was an accident that had formed a resolution in Luca’s mind. And once he made a resolution, he was always certain to see it out.
“Rosie, you are the most soft-hearted person I’ve ever known.” Connor said in a loud whisper. Though his words were perfectly benign, they were delivered in such a tone as to be insulting.
The blonde woman, Rosie apparently, rolled her enormous green eyes. Luca couldn’t help the smile that tickled his lips. She was irreverent and unimpressed. He liked that very much. “What was I meant to do? Stand there and watch? The poor girl was humiliated!”
“So? If I was as bad at my job as she is at hers, I’d be out on my arse.”
Rosie compressed her lips. “Spilling a tray doesn’t mean that she’s bad at her job. It means some guy in here’s had a skinful and knocked her sideways. God, you can be such a snob sometimes.”
Connor seemed to remember that his aim for the evening was to impress Rosie, and he plastered an agreeing mask into place. “Sorry, darling. You’re right. I should have been more helpful.”
Rosie wasn’t buying it. Luca was pleased when she turned up her nose and addressed him in a cool tone. “In all the kerfuffle, my drink seems to have been misplaced. Would you mind?”
