she cut him off with a choked laugh. ‘I do like it. I love it. You’re a miracle worker. All of you.’
He shook his head. ‘Elena, you are exquisite. Now promise me one thing.’
‘If I can.’
‘Always use blush.’
Laughing, she threw her arms around him. ‘Thank you.’
Bags of cosmetics and face creams had been packaged for her, along with her new wardrobe of clothes. Her shopping trip was over and it was time to pay the bill.
Elena got her credit card out.
Liana shook her head. ‘Mr Mantegna has made arrangements to pay.’
About to protest—after all, she was an independent woman, no matter what charge of nepotism Gabriele laid at her door—she had a nice vision of Gabriele receiving the bill. He was the one who insisted she get remodelled. He could foot it.
And speaking of he...
Now it was time to face him.
The heels of the ankle boots she wore gave her a lift in more sense than one. Never mind being two inches taller, she found she held herself taller too as she strode through the main beauty floor with Liana at her side. She didn’t know if she was imagining it but she could feel eyes upon her and had to force herself not to stare at the floor in embarrassment. People never looked twice at her.
‘One more thing,’ Liana said suddenly, coming to a halt by the sunglasses section. She considered them for a while before going behind the counter and handing Elena a Cartier box. ‘For when you have to deal with the paparazzi,’ she said with a knowing smile.
Elena thanked her and put the box in one of the bags containing the cosmetics she was already looking forward to experimenting with.
As much as she told herself that she couldn’t care less what Gabriele thought of her makeover, her heart galloped when Liana opened the door to the private waiting room and Gabriele looked up from the laptop he was working on.
His brown-black eyes widened, and he half rose, the laptop almost falling onto the floor in the process.
After six hours in the department store, Gabriele had been prepared for Elena to come out looking better than she had before. After all, she could hardly present herself any worse. He would have had to be blind not to see her innate prettiness, even though she clearly couldn’t be bothered to do anything with it, but nothing could have prepared him for the beauty that walked into the room.
Dio, it was like one of those before and after television programmes his mother had liked to watch.
A pair of tight pale blue jeans that came halfway up her calves was topped with a long shimmering silver off-the-shoulder top under which were the straps of a purple bra. The clothes themselves were nothing to shout about but put together with clever plum costume jewellery, black ankle boots and a haircut that screamed just got out of bed without having actually just got out of bed...
It was still Elena the tomboy, but with a very sexy, feminine difference.
The pretty shell had been burst open and the intrinsic beauty had emerged.
This was the sexy, beautiful woman he would be marrying in two days.
Aware of Elena and Liana both waiting expectantly for his reaction, he closed his laptop and got to his feet.
‘Tesoro, you look wonderful,’ he said. ‘Did you have a good day?’
‘Lovely thank you,’ she replied with a sweet smile that didn’t fool him for a second.
‘You deserve it, you work so hard.’
After satisfying himself that all her purchases were being sent to his apartment, Gabriele led Elena out of the store and to his waiting car at the back.
Once they were settled and the driver was making his way through the heavy Manhattan traffic, Gabriele twisted round to look again at Elena.
The unexpected but very welcome news he’d received that afternoon that a senior member of Ignazio’s closest team could possibly be bought now took second place to the woman beside him.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and there was an air about her he couldn’t put his finger on.
‘You did enjoy it,’ he stated shrewdly. Now they were alone they could go back to being honest with each other.
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I hadn’t realised shopping could be fun.’
‘How do you normally buy clothes?’
‘I dive in and out of the shop and hope whatever I’ve chosen fits.’
‘You’re the only daughter from a family with three sons. Why weren’t you dressed as a princess?’
She shrugged. ‘I always wanted to be a boy like my brothers. I hated that being a girl made me different.’
‘Why did it make you different?’
She pulled a face that conveyed she thought he was an idiot for asking.
‘I don’t have siblings,’ he reminded her. ‘All my cousins are boys. Those kind of family dynamics are not something I’ve experienced.’
‘Girls are considered more delicate than boys. Weaker. More prone to tears.’
He considered this. ‘I think the tears thing is true...’
She sucked in an outraged breath.
‘But as for being more delicate, that’s bull,’ he finished. ‘Women are different from men, that’s a biological fact but the kind of delicacy you’re talking about doesn’t exist.’
‘I know that. I’ve spent my entire life proving it.’
‘How? By acting like a man?’
‘How else could I be taken seriously?’ she demanded. ‘The only way I was able to gain my brothers’ respect was by being one of the boys.’
‘So it wasn’t through choice?’
‘I wanted to be like them. I didn’t know how to be a girl and had no interest in learning.’
‘Do you think it would have made any difference if your mother had lived and been there to guide you?’
Her eyes met his. ‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember her.’
‘That’s a real shame,’ he eventually replied, remembering the Swedish woman who’d always had a ready smile on her face and a batch of meatballs on the go. Elena could only have been two when she died. ‘She was a nice woman.’
Her brows drew together. ‘You knew her?’
‘Of course. Our families were friends. Our mothers were very close.’
‘I
