What on earth was Riccardo doing in a jazz club in the centre of London? Didn’t he have empires to run and universes to conquer? And how was it that, having been absent from her life for the past eight years, he had now been seen twice in the space of a fortnight?
‘May I?’ He was looking at Ben with a pleasant smile and, poor innocent that he was, Ben was responding with a warm smile back. Couldn’t he see that the man was a viper? ‘I’m an old friend.’
Charlotte felt Riccardo’s hand on her elbow and opened her mouth to stage a protest, only belatedly remembering that she and Ben were supposed to be engaged. What if Riccardo decided to offer his heartfelt congratulations to the happy couple? She plastered a smile on her face and stood between both men, her back to Riccardo, physically keeping them as far apart as she could to prevent any unfortunate conversations taking place.
‘You sit!’ she shouted to Ben over the music. ‘You can get me something to drink—one of those cocktails!’
‘Obedient little puppy, isn’t he?’ Riccardo said, swooping her into a twirl and then pulling her back into him so that their bodies met with way too much force for her liking. Like sleight of hand, he had managed to manoeuvre them into the corner, where the music didn’t seem quite as loud so Charlotte didn’t have to yell to reply.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Do I read disapproval in that question? As far as I am aware, I don’t need a special pass from you to get into a jazz club in London. If you remember, I happen to like jazz very much.’
Charlotte was remembering lots of things, and his love of jazz music was the least disconcerting of her memories. She remembered dancing with him out in the open to some tinny music from the speakers on her radio, she remembered the feel of his body pressing against her and the way she had laughed, throwing her head back, looking forward to where all that sexy dancing was going to go later.
‘I saw you on the dance floor with the fiancé,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘Very brave of you.’
‘Yes, well, Ben is adventurous like that,’ Charlotte said coolly. Every time she tried to inch away from him, he pulled her gently back, his hand placed firmly in the small of her back.
‘The man is a paragon.’
‘Who are you here with?’ Charlotte asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from her paragon non-fiancé. He would be there with someone, or more probably several people, all of them high profile and ultra-glamorous. Riccardo was not a man to indulge his love of jazz by coming to a club on his own.
‘A very attractive blonde, as a matter of fact.’
Charlotte felt a jab of pain. ‘And you’ve left the poor woman on her own, to dance with someone who doesn’t want to dance with you?’
She felt his hand tighten fractionally, and that felt good because she knew that her remark had got to him. The great Riccardo di Napoli wouldn’t like being told that a woman didn’t want his company. The great Riccardo di Napoli, with his attractive blonde who was probably sulking in the corner at being left on her own. Well, Charlotte only hoped that it would point the poor thing in the right direction, namely the nearest door through which she could exit as fast as she could if she knew what was good for her.
‘He’s exactly as I imagined from what you said,’ Riccardo drawled. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lucinda focus on them, and even in the subdued mood lighting he could detect her frown of displeasure. She was getting demanding and that, didn’t sit well with him. He would have to deal with that, but later. Right now, all he could think of was the woman he was holding, the one who wanted to get away. He moved them expertly around, so that his back was to Lucinda’s pouting face. ‘Looks like a sensitive guy.’