A Scandal Made At Midnight

‘You’re late,’ Alessandro said shortly as she came breathlessly into the lobby.

‘I’m sorry—’

He’d already turned away, walking briskly out of the hotel to the waiting limo. As soon as Liane slid into the sumptuous interior, Alessandro took out his phone and started scrolling.

‘Checking the publicity for the hotel?’ she enquired tartly and he glanced up at her, the look in his steely eyes veiled.

‘Answering work emails, as it happens. I couldn’t care less about the publicity.’

‘Really? Then why were you so annoyed that I was on the cover of that magazine?’ His jaw tightened and she continued, unable to keep both the hurt and hope from her voice, ‘I thought you wanted publicity. I thought that was the whole point of this—this exercise!’

‘It is.’ He turned to look out of the window as the Paris traffic streamed, a steel-grey glimpse of the Eiffel Tower visible in the distance. He was closing her out, Liane realised hopelessly, and why should she be surprised? Even if he was acting angry in order to hide his hurt, what did it matter?

Even if he felt something, he didn’t want to feel it. The end result was still the same. She turned to look out of her own window, blinking back sudden tears. She’d refused him last night because she hadn’t wanted to get her heart broken, so why was she feeling so miserable now? It seemed the end result had been the same for her too, no matter what she’d chosen.

They didn’t speak until they were settled on Alessandro’s jet, he with his work laid out in front of him and Liane feeling as uncertain as ever. She gazed around at the luxury that had left her speechless just a week ago, and now she was already becoming tired of it. She wanted to go home, to return to what was familiar and safe, and yet at the same time she knew she didn’t want that at all. When she finally had to say goodbye to Alessandro, she knew she would be devastated. No matter how hard she’d tried to protect her heart, it clearly hadn’t worked.

Alessandro gazed at Liane from the corner of his eye as he did his best to focus on his work. She looked bereft, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d been acting like an ass. He should apologise, and he kept meaning to, but somehow he could never find the words. He couldn’t bear to admit that he’d been acting this way because her rejection of him last night still stung.

He hadn’t meant to plead with her. He never begged, and yet last night he’d wanted her so much he hadn’t been able to keep the words from spilling from his lips. Stay... Please, Liane. He cringed at the memory, and yet he knew he’d meant it, even if he wished he hadn’t.

He’d promised himself a long, long time ago that he’d never beg for someone’s attention, their love. He’d never even want to. At least, he told himself, it had been clear that allhe’d wanted was her body in his bed. Not her heart. Not her love.

No, never that.

Impulsively Alessandro checked Ella’s account to see if she’d posted anything about last night, and he saw, with something he decided was irritation and nothing deeper, that she’d posted the photo of Liane fleeing from the ball. From him. She’d captioned it Can the Prince find his Princess again? There were already thousands of views, hundreds of comments.

From the angle of the shot, no one could tell it was Liane. No one, Alessandro realised, even knew who Liane was. Ella was certainly playing up the mystery angle, and the world’s media had captured the spirit of the thing. He should be glad, he knew; this was what he’d wanted, a controlled narrative that brought publicity for the hotels. As it was, he was starting to find the whole thing both tedious and distasteful. He didn’t want any more of it—not for himself, and not for Liane.

He glanced at her again, taking in the ivory curve of her cheek as she looked out of the window at the azure sky, her gaze shuttered, the downward turn of her lips desolate.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked suddenly.

She glanced at him, startled but also weary. ‘That I don’t want to go to yet another wretched party,’ she replied on a sigh.

‘Neither do I.’

Something flickered in her eyes and then was gone. ‘For someone who says he hates parties, you’ve gone to rather a lot of them.’

‘An astute assessment.’ A faint smile flickered about her mouth and he leaned forward. ‘Why don’t you want to go?’

‘Because I’m tired of parties. Tired of pretending.’

‘Were you pretending last night?’ The words slipped out before he could bite them back. At least his tone was cool, repressive rather than pleading.

She gazed at him for a long moment, her eyes as dark and soft as pansies. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No... In fact, this morning I was...’ She took a breath, let out a little uncertain laugh. ‘I was reconsidering my answer.’

His breath caught as he gazed at her, a pulse hammering in his throat as hope unfurled, then soared. ‘Were you?’

‘Yes, I was. I...’ She moistened her lips, lifted her chin. ‘I want to be with you, Alessandro. For...for however long you’re offering.’

He sat back, his mind whirling, his blood roaring. She wanted him.

She nibbled her lip as she regarded him uncertainly. ‘You...you haven’t changed your mind?’

‘Changed my mind?’ He swallowed a hoarse laugh. ‘No.’

‘Then...’

Why, when he finally had her surrender and his victory, did he feel...not disappointed, no, never that, but something almost like...sorrow? It was so strange. He should be expectant, exultant, and instead he was...confused. He couldn’t understand it at all.

‘Alessandro?’ she prompted, a waver in her voice.

‘What made you change your mind?’

‘I’m tired of being cautious and careful,’ she replied, again with the tilt of her chin. ‘I want to live. I want to...experience things. Ella has always been telling me to have fun, to be in the moment—well, that’s what I’m choosing now.’ She met his gaze defiantly, and Alessandro couldn’t help but think it was all a far cry from what she’d said she wanted. The fairy tale in all its glory.

Yet who was he to decry her choice, especially when it dovetailed so neatly with what he wanted?

Or at least what he’d thought he did...

‘If you haven’t changed your mind,’ Liane asked with a nervous laugh, ‘why are you glaring at me?’

‘I’m not glaring.’ He gave her a quick smile as realisation unfurled within him. Niceties be damned, Liane had made her choice...and he would make his. ‘I was just thinking about what you said. What it meant.’

A blush touched her cheeks, turning them to rose-tinted porcelain. ‘Then you...agree?’

‘Oh, yes.’

Her smile was both shy and lovely, filled with hope and longing, and it made Alessandro certain, his flickering doubts finally quenched.

‘Wait.’ He rose from his seat and walked swiftly to the cockpit, issuing instructions to the pilot before returning to Liane. His blood was roaring in his veins, his heart singing with joy. He knew he’d never felt this way about a woman, an affair, just as he knew, already, that it was so much more than that. Even if he’d tried for it not to be. Already, before they’d even touched, it was...whether Liane knew it or not.

She twisted around as he came back into the main cabin. ‘What were you doing?’

‘Telling the pilot to redirect the flight to Perugia.’

‘What...?’

‘We’ll skip the party in Rome. We’ve both had enough of these ridiculous charades, the stares and suggestions. We’ll go to my villa in Umbria instead.’ He realised he couldn’t wait to show it to her—the gardens, the spacious rooms, the sense of home. He wanted to share it all.