as he could remember. School holidays had been spent shadowing various family members in their differing roles. When he’d graduated from university with a first-class economics and management degree, he’d started work for Palvetti immediately, reporting directly to his father.
At that time there had been something of a sales slump that had hit their profit margins. Alessio’s suggestions to turn the slump around had been implemented and within three years profits had risen by nine per cent. When his father had retired shortly after Alessio’s thirtieth birthday, the family board had been unanimous—the top job was Alessio’s. Under his guidance, Palvetti had gone from strength to strength. Their target of breaking into the crucial Chinese market had been a resounding success. Their jewellery graced the necks, wrists, ears and fingers of the world’s richest people and their luxury scents soaked their skin.
Palvetti was enjoying a boom and Alessio had no intention of allowing that boom to turn into a bust. He would not risk taking his eye off the ball.
His brother had not had the same sense of duty or destiny. Despite Alessio’s and his parents’ best efforts, Domenico had shown nothing but contempt for the business.
Domenico had refused to embrace anything but his own selfish pleasures.
Judging by the coroner’s report into his death, the years of estrangement had only made him worse.
What reckless selfishness had spurred him to ride his bicycle on London’s busy roads with enough alcohol in his bloodstream to defrost a freezer when he had a six months’ pregnant wife at home waiting for him?
Had his brother wanted to die? He’d written his will only weeks before his death.
What kind of character would his nephew have? Alessio ruminated as he searched for Beth. Would he take after his father or would Alessio’s influence be enough to steer him on the right path?
The great ballroom was a bustle of activity, dozens of people working together and separately to transform the room into a magical wonderland. Supervising it all was Beth, clipboard and tablet in hand, standing at the base of the stage the orchestra would be performing on, chatting to a couple of the workers.
He admired the sense of calm she exuded. The nerves she’d displayed in his car were either gone or she’d hidden them. She had the perfect leadership traits: calmness and competence. If a leader was prone to panic, it infected the workers.
About to approach her, his phone vibrated in his pocket. As he answered it, her gaze suddenly found him.
Something he could not explain passed between them in the look they shared in that moment, something that made all the cells in his body thicken.
There had to be thirty feet between them but his body reacted to her stare as if she were right in front of him.
He inhaled and raised a hand in greeting.
Her lips curved into a half-smile. She waved her fingers.
She stepped in his direction but had moved only a couple of paces when another worker hurried over to her.
She said something then looked back at Alessio.
He gestured that he needed to go.
She nodded and smiled again before giving the worker her full attention.
Alessio left the ballroom to continue his phone conversation but with the thrill of anticipation racing through his veins.
* * *
‘Valente?’ Beth said when he answered her call.
‘Is something the matter?’
A not unpleasant shiver raced up her spine as the richness of his voice seeped through her ear and burrowed deep inside her.
‘There’s been a mix-up with my uniform. The outfit left in my suite is a ball gown. I’ve spoken to Giselle but she doesn’t know anything about it.’
In the main bedroom of her suite she’d found her uniform hanging on the wardrobe as Valente had told her it would be, covered in grey wrapping with the palace insignia and her name tied to the hanger. Beth, like all the other White’s Events staff and palace staff working at the ball that night, had provided her vital statistics for her outfit. Expecting the same black uniform everyone else had been given, she’d been gobsmacked when she’d removed the cover to find an obviously expensive strapless, floor-length gold ball gown.
‘There is no mix-up. That’s your uniform for the evening.’
‘A ball gown? I need a proper uniform to wear so that guests and staff can identify me...’
His laughter rumbled through her skin. ‘I am afraid it is too late to change it, bella. Enjoy it—consider it a reward for all your hard work. I will see you shortly.’
Before she could protest any further he ended the call.
She sighed and fingered the hem of the dress. It felt like silk. Further examination of it revealed no label to identify its maker.
The dress was incredible. But it was not an appropriate dress for her to wear that night. As the event manager she needed to be easily identifiable, not look as if she could pass as one of the guests.
But, as Valente had so helpfully pointed out, it was too late to change it. She had only a two-hour window until the first guests arrived.
Instead of getting ready, she took Dom from Miranda, the nanny, gave him his bottle and played with him for a while. She wished she didn’t have to leave him again that night. Miranda had been great in sending her regular updates on his welfare that day but, despite being so busy, Beth had missed him horrendously. He’d been at her side since his birth.
She kissed his plump cheek then kissed his button nose. ‘Mummy needs to get ready now,’ she told him, before handing him back to Miranda.
Calling herself ‘Mummy’ was something that still caused a wrench in her heart. Caroline was his mummy but Caroline had made Beth promise to be his mummy. It was a promise she would keep for the rest of her life.
Beth showered quickly, dried her hair and applied a little make-up then, with Miranda’s help, got into the dress.
It fitted perfectly. The box that had lain on the floor beneath it contained a pair of gold shoes that also fitted perfectly.
Who, she wondered moodily, had authorised such a dress for her? Giannis Basinas? If him, then why? She still hadn’t met him, all communication having been done through Valente.
Had Valente authorised the dress?
Which begged the question of who Valente was to Giannis. Her assumption that he worked at the hotel had proved to be wrong.
But there was no time to wonder any longer. The guests would start arriving soon. She needed to be in the ballroom. She might be dressed like a princess but she was at this ball to work.
Work or not, there was no denying that the anticipation running through her was on a scale she felt right down to her toes.
* * *
Alessio
