A Scandal Made At Midnight

CHAPTER SIX

‘WHERE’S ELLA?’

The abrupt question had Liane pausing mid-stride as she headed towards the doors of the hotel lobby, where Alessandro was waiting, looking as devastating as always in a navy-blue suit, his close-cropped hair still damp from a shower, his brows drawn together in a frown as he surveyed her.

‘She said ten o’clock was too early for her, so she’s sleeping in.’ Liane tried to keep her voice light as she stood in front of him, her insides wobbling like a bowl full of jelly. She’d been fully expecting Ella to come along for this excursion and serve as some sort of protective barrier between her and Alessandro. With Ella chatting and laughing, Liane wouldn’t have to talk to Alessandro, or feel like a fool in his presence—the way she had last night, when she’d admitted she had nothing to wear, or at least nothing she was brave enough to wear. All right, perhaps it had been a silly, stubborn thing to do, to wear that ugly old dress, but it had felt like a strange sort of protection at the time. Easier to be a wallflower than to try to step into the spotlight, but she had no intention of explaining that to Alessandro.

And now here he was, staring at her with that same sort of critical assessment he had last night, as if she were nothing more than a problem to solve. It made her want to shrink right inside herself and disappear. The fizzy flirtation she’d felt on the plane, when they’d chatted alone together, when she’d felt his interest like a warm balm on her skin, now seemed like a surreal step out of time. Clearly she’d been imagining those so-called currents flowing between them. She’d thought she had been, she’d certainly feared it, but she knew the leaden certainty of it now. Everything had been in her mind—her silly schoolgirl hopes as ridiculous as those stupid shoes.

Now, standing in front of him, trying not to fidget as he scowled down at her, she felt the full weight of his disapproval, or perhaps just his indifference. His face was expressionless, his eyes shuttered.

‘Very well,’ he said after a pause, his voice clipped. ‘My car is waiting.’

Silently Liane followed him outside to the waiting limo. Ever the gentleman, Alessandro opened the door for her first and with murmured thanks she slipped inside, sliding along the sumptuous leather. Alessandro joined her, closing the door and taking out his phone to text a few messages. Liane turned to look out of the window at the palm trees and pink stucco buildings blurring by as they rode in silence for the few minutes it took to arrive at what looked like one of Beverly Hills’s most exclusive boutiques, its frosted glass window hiding the elegance within.

‘Why is no one else here?’ she asked, instinctively letting her voice fall to a whisper as a sophisticated woman in a silk blouse and pencil skirt ushered them inside the empty boutique. The place had remarkably few clothes, just a few curated outfits draped on blank-faced mannequins or padded hangers, the walls papered in silk and a few velvet chaises and sofas scattered tastefully around. Even the air smelled expensive, a subtle scent of bergamot and vanilla.

‘Because I arranged for us to have the place to ourselves.’ Alessandro spoke as if this were a normal thing to do. Liane couldn’t help but be struck by how different their lives were, their whole selves. It made her even more certain that she’d been imagining any spark between them. Why would a man who could commandeer shops and fly by private jet have any interest in a poor plain Jane like her? As Alessandro positioned himself on a divan of grey velvet, scrolling through his messages, Liane couldn’t help but feel he’d already dismissed her from his mind.

‘She needs at least three evening gowns,’ he told the woman who was hovering nearby.

‘I don’t!’ Liane protested. Three...! She’d never had so many dresses.

Alessandro lifted his head to give her a questioning look. ‘There are three more evening events. You need a dress for each one.’

‘I can wear the same one—’

‘Your stepsister’s social media is already starting to do what it was meant to do. You’re likely to find yourself on the front page of something, and you don’t want to be wearing the same dress.’ He shrugged and then turned back to the assistant. ‘Three, please.’

‘What it was meant to do?’ Liane repeated, excitement warring with unease at the thought of finding herself on the front page of anything. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Some newspapers have picked up the story. There has already been a request to feature the New York hotel in a lifestyle magazine, and the concierge there has told me reservations are on the increase.’

‘That’s...that’s wonderful.’ She studied his face, all harsh planes and angles, his gaze trained on his phone. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Of course.’ Another shrug, barely a twist of one powerful shoulder. ‘Now, are you going to try some things on?’ He gave the sales assistant a pointed look and she immediately sprang to attention.

‘Yes, of course, Mr Rossi. I have already selected several outfits for Miss—’

‘Blanchard.’ Her name came out in something like a snap. He gestured to the dressing room, which was almost as big as Liane’s bedroom back in New York. ‘Then let’s get going.’

Liane retreated into the dressing room, closing the door behind her with a firm click. Why was he being so terribly terse? She’d told him last night that she didn’t need a dress, or if she did, he didn’t need to come with her to shop for it. So why was he now acting as if this was the hassle to end all hassles? This had been his idea, not hers. She’d almost, for a second, thought he might enjoy it, but she realised now how ridiculous a notion that was. How ridiculous all her silly romantic notions had been.

Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned her blouse, the sales assistant waiting with a gown in aquamarine silk that flowed like water over her arm. She wasn’t just annoyed or even angry, Liane realised as she slipped on the dress, although admittedly she was both of those. She was hurt. When they’d been on the plane she’d known their conversation—and those delicious currents—hadn’t meant anything, but some stupid part of her had still believed, or at least hoped, that Alessandro was interested in her, if only a tiny, tiny bit. Now she knew he wasn’t. She was nothing but an inconvenience to be dealt with, and impatiently at that. Everything had been in her imagination or, worse, she realised as a new, awful possibility occurred to her, done out of pity. What if he’d given her attention simply because he felt sorry for her? A pity project, indeed, just as she’d said last night. The thought made her stomach roil unpleasantly. She might be mousy but she didn’t want to be pitied for it. She wouldn’t let herself be.

‘Well?’ Alessandro called out. ‘Let’s see.’

Liane barely glanced at her reflection in the mirror. ‘It’s fine. You don’t need to see it.’ She had no desire to parade herself in front of him. This whole morning was excruciating enough.

‘I want to see what I’m buying,’ Alessandro replied mildly enough, but Liane still gritted her teeth.

‘Fine.’ She yanked open the dressing room door to glare at him, her hands on her hips, wanting him to see the extent of her ire. ‘Satisfied?’ Her breath came out in an unsteady rush as her angry gaze met his—and then saw the heat flaring there.

‘I wouldn’t say I’m satisfied,’ he replied slowly, and Liane’s toes curled, everything in her clenching at the innuendo. Was this yet more pity? Throwing her a bone? She couldn’t bear it.

‘But it suits?’ she asked, striving to keep her voice steady. The gown was Grecian in style and covered her from neck to ankles in gently pleated folds, but underneath his considering gaze she felt nearly naked. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling—far from it. As he continued to look at her she felt achingly aware of her own body, his sweeping gaze seeming to burn everywhere it lingered. Senses stirred. Nerves tingled. And heat flowed through her in a molten, honeyed stream. Why was he looking at her this way? Was he teasing her? Toying with her—or did he mean it? The man was impossible.

‘Yes, it suits. Certainly.’ He held her gaze and she had to turn away with effort.