Unable to bear the reminder, she turned her attention back to the party surrounding her. The women from Melanie’s hen party had hit the dance floor, dragging her dad up there with them. She couldn’t stop the grin forming on her face as she watched his special brand of dad dancing. At least she knew where she got her rhythm from.
Why wasn’t she up there with them?
Why was she hiding by the bar, observing rather than joining in?
She’d made it through the day with what was left of her shattered heart aching, but she’d made it. She’d come through the other side and she was still standing. She hadn’t fallen apart at the seams.
A record that had been hugely popular when she was a kid came on. Her grin widening, Hannah weaved through the tables to the dance floor and grabbed her father’s hands. His answering smile was puzzled, shocked, even, but delighted all the same.
Their special brand of nonrhythmic dancing took off, a crowd quickly forming around them, the bride and groom hitting the floor, too.
She could do this. She could be a part of life. She didn’t have to sit alone on the sidelines.
One of her sister’s hen party tapped Hannah on the shoulder. ‘Isn’t that the man from Calvetti’s?’ she yelled above the music, pointing across the room.
Following the pointing finger, Hannah’s heart jolted to see the tall figure she’d spotted leaning against the wall watching the dancing. Watching her.
She gave an absent nod in response, tuning out everything around her—everything except him.
Francesco.
Her stomach lurched heavily, feeling as if it had become detached from the rest of her.
He began to move, snaking his way round the packed tables, revellers parting on his approach in a manner that evoked the strongest sense of déjà vu.
Her heart flipped over to see him so groomed and utterly gorgeous in a snazzy pinstriped suit, the top buttons of his crisp blue shirt undone, exposing the top of his broad chest and the cross he wore around his neck....
Up close he looked in control and terrifying, the intent in his eyes showing he could eat her alive if she refused him anything.
Francesco crossed the dividing line onto the dance floor.
After the road trip from hell, he’d finally made it to her.
Nothing had come easy that day, the puncture on his tyre the last straw. By the time the helicopter had illegally landed to collect him, he’d been ready to rip someone’s head off.
At last he stood before her. She’d frozen on the spot, her eyes big hazel pools of pain and bewilderment.
What had he done to her?
He had no idea what was being played by the DJ and nor did he care. When he placed his hands on Hannah’s hips and pulled her to him, the sound tuned out and he moved her in a rhythm all their own.
She looked so vulnerable in her traditional bridesmaid dress. She trembled in it, rigid in his arms yet quivering.
He could feel eyes from all directions fixed on them.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, not looking at him.
‘I want us to talk.’
‘I don’t want to be anywhere near you.’
‘I know.’ He breathed her scent in. ‘But I need to be near you.’
She moved to escape his arms but he tightened his hold, continuing to move her around the floor. ‘I’m not letting you go anywhere, not until you’ve given me the chance to speak.’
‘I’m not speaking to you here,’ she hissed into his ear, her warm breath sending completely inappropriate tingles racing over his skin. ‘This is my sister’s wedding. These guests here are my family and my sister’s friends.’
‘And I should have been with you today, getting to know them, instead of leaving you to face it on your own, but I’m the bastard who let his thirst for revenge cause pain to the one person in the world he loves.’
He stopped dancing and looked at her. The pain in her eyes had gone, only stark bewilderment remaining.
‘You,’ he emphasised. ‘I love you. I should have trusted fate when it brought you to me.’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’ Her voice was hoarse, her cheeks flushed.
Her resistance was nothing less than he deserved. He released his tight hold and stepped back, keeping his hands on her arms so she couldn’t run.
‘Remember when I gave you five minutes of my time?’ he said, reminding her of that time a month ago when she’d first begged for five minutes. If he’d known then what those five minutes would lead to, he would have locked himself away in his office without a second thought. What an arrogant fool he had been. ‘Now I am asking for five minutes of your time.’