Both sisters dressed and ready, it was with a lot of relief that they left Marisa’s room, popped into their parents’ room next door – they’d begged off the ball – for the obligatory proud parents gushes and photos, and then took the elevator to the ground floor lobby where all the women were gathering.
The bride-to-be, the deserved centre of attention, looked spectacular in a gothic gold dress and gold and black harlequin mask. Her blonde hair gleamed, and when she approached Luisa, she looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen her.
Where Luisa’s reaction to the male Espositos was a visceral dislike, she felt a strange sense of compassion towards the only daughter, and she welcomed her approach with a genuine smile.
“I’m having a sleepover in my suite for some select friends to celebrate my last night of freedom on Friday night,” Siena said in an undertone. “Would adore for you to join us.”
“That sounds great, thank you,” Luisa replied, trying not to sound too taken aback. Despite Siena marrying Luisa’s brother-in-law, the two women hadn’t had much to do with each other since the engagement party, something she suspected had been deliberately engineered by both Martinellibrothers. They were probably afraid Gennaro’s wife and Niccolo’s fiancée would talk and reveal secrets both preferred to keep hidden.
“Wonderful. You look amazing, by the way.” Pressing her cheek to Luisa’s – no danger of lipstick transferring – Siena moved on to the next woman to catch her attention.
Luisa had barely started on her glass of champagne when a gong rang out. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted.
It was time for the ladies to enter the ballroom and for the masquerade to begin.
Chapter Seven
If the staff had done an incredible job turning the ballroom into a casino, magic had been used to transform it into this sensuous delight of deep red walls and even deeper red heavy drapes. Not a sliver of natural light penetrated, all illumination coming from the gold and crystal chandeliers and the candles and heart-shaped lamps running the centre of the long tables laid out like a horseshoe around the dancefloor.
All the men, dressed in compulsory black tuxedos and masks, were lined up facing the ladies as they entered. Their stillness would have been impressive if Luisa was capable of being impressed, but anticipatory sickness was churning too hard for her to think with any coherence. She’d barely crossed the threshold when her heart lurched at the tall, dominating figure to the far left of the room, and she plucked out a number from a theatrical top hat without any thought.
“What number are you?” Marisa asked.
Luisa pulled her stare away from the tall, masked figure making her heart thump so wildly. “Sixty-four. You?”
“Onehundred and six.”
Another gong rang out.
Time to take their seats.
Gennaro tried to pay attention to the gorgeous lady seated to his left and pretend he didn’t recognise her behind her mask as Sophia Silva, the brains behind a luxury goods empire. The female guests all looked spectacular in their elaborate ballgowns and theatrical masks, but there was one woman, seated far on the other side of the ballroom, he couldn’t stop his eyes from seeking.
Wearing a low-cut black dress that fitted like a corset to her hips and then spread out like a fan to her feet, it was only when she walked that you saw the side splits in the skirt that ran to the top of her thighs. With her glossy dark hair piled onto her head and elegant ringlets framing her face and blood-red lips below the black gothic mask she wore, she was the sexiest creature he’d ever seen. His blood thickened every time their gazes locked across the room.
The first course finished, the gentlemen all selected a fresh number and moved to the corresponding seat. Gennaro’s seat took him further from her, the angle being so he could only see a glimmer of her profile.
After the fish course, it was all change again. When he rose to his feet, the woman’s head turned to him.
His next placement was beside the bride… although, of course, he had to pretend not to recognise her too… and a slightly better view of the beautiful woman. Though he and Siena both made the effort of small talk whilst pretending not to recognise each other, all he could see was the man to the ravishing woman’s right, engaging her in conversation and making her laugh.
He was too far away to hear the sound of her laughter buthe could imagine it, and his jaw clenched as he envisaged himself flying across the dancefloor to separate the man’s head from his body.
Their main course finished, Gennaro didn’t bother selecting a new placement number. He went straight to the ravishing woman in the corset dress and took the seat to her right.
With most of her face hidden behind an elaborate gothic black mask, her plump red lips were the only facial feature completely visible from a distance. This close, the large, dark brown eyes were clearly visible too, and when they locked onto his, a deep frisson snaked his spine.
“Enchanted to meet you…” He allowed his gaze only the smallest of darts to her placement number, “… number sixty-four. How are you enjoying your evening?”
The doe eyes flickered. Her reply was a cautious, “Very well, thank you.”
There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to the suave male guest hovering behind him. “Yes?”
“I think this is my seat,” the man said apologetically.
He didn’t blink. “You’re mistaken.”
He turned his back to the hovering man without a second thought, put his elbow on the table to rest his chin on his knuckles, and locked the doe eyes in his stare again.