Being a good head taller than most people gave him the advantage of seeing over the elaborately dressed, highly excited guests, and the pianist entertaining them, but he couldn’t see Beth.
He cut through the crowd. At the ballroom entrance he nodded at the security man guarding it, who opened the door for him.
And there she was, clipboard and tablet in hand as they’d been earlier, making her way around the tables lining the east and west walls of the room, double checking that everything was perfect...
His throat closed as he took in the perfection of her.
The dress he’d selected for her fitted as if the seamstress had sewn it with Beth as her mannequin. The curves of her body, that the outfits in which he’d seen her before had only hinted at, were more feminine than he’d imagined. She’d swept her dark hair into an elegant chignon which exposed the grace of her neck and emphasised the beauty of her bone structure.
If his plan continued its successful path, it would not be long before his lips grazed that graceful neck...and the rest of that ravishing body.
Beth had beauty and an exquisite eye for detail. With his guidance, she had the potential to be as great an asset to Palvetti as all the other Palvetti spouses had been.
With his guidance, she would become the perfect Palvetti wife.
He just had to keep the deception going a little longer, until the ball was over. He imagined there would be a scene when she discovered who he really was and he wanted that scene to be conducted in private.
He finished his champagne and walked to her. ‘Good evening, bella,’ he said.
She smiled to see him before her eyes narrowed a touch. ‘Hi, Valente... I see you’ve been given a non-uniform to wear too.’
‘My non-uniform does not look as good as yours,’ he replied evasively. His non-uniform had been hand-stitched by Milan’s finest tailor. ‘You look beautiful.’
Her lightly golden cheeks flushed with colour and her lips pulled in before she said, ‘That’s kind of you to say. So, what do you think? Does the ballroom match Mr Basinas’s expectations?’
He slowly turned around to take in everything anew and nodded.
Gold, silver and white balloons hung from the high grand ceiling, matching heavy drapes lining the walls. The tables followed the same theme; ornately decorated and with centrepieces topped with feathers and miniature gold masks. The orchestra was on the stage, the musicians tuning their instruments, the champagne fountain already flowing.
‘Have you seen the other rooms?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t seen them finished. Show me.’
She led the way, taking him through myriad other rooms adorned with the same decorations: the dining room, where a hot and cold buffet would be served throughout the night, and where a string quartet was tuning their instruments to entertain the diners; the cocktail lounge, filled with sofas and armchairs for those who wanted to catch their breath and listen to the music of a lounge pianist; the chocolate room, filled with edible creations hand-made in Switzerland and the disco room, which wouldn’t be opened until after the midnight fireworks, and would no doubt be filled with younger revellers wanting a break from waltzing to let their hair down to more familiar songs.
It was hard to believe this had all been achieved in only six weeks.
‘You have done an incredible job,’ he told her as they walked back to the ballroom.
‘I can’t take the credit. It was a team effort, as you very well know.’ Beth would not allow her team’s achievements to be diminished. Eight members of her team had been camped in the palace for the past three weeks beavering away.
‘You directed it all. You pulled it together. This is your vision. Accept the plaudits and be proud of what you’ve achieved.’
‘I haven’t achieved anything yet,’ she reminded him. ‘As I said this morning, the proof of the pudding’s in the eating. Let’s wait to hear Mr Basinas’s and the guests’ feedback before getting carried away.’
He opened his mouth but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the master of ceremonies approaching them.
‘Five minutes,’ he informed her gravely.
Her stomach knotted. For a moment she feared she would be sick.
Five minutes?
‘Excuse me,’ she murmured to Valente. ‘I need to get in position.’
He cast her a look that made her belly melt.
Her bones had melted just looking at him. She had not thought he could be more handsome but tonight, freshly shaved and dressed in a deep maroon, long-tailed dinner jacket the men had all been instructed to wear—colour and style optional—with matching trousers, black shirt and black bow-tie, he looked devastating.
She hurried back into the ballroom to take her position by the champagne fountain. Moments later the orchestra played its first beat, the ballroom doors opened and the master of ceremonies formally announced the ball open.
THE GUESTS POURING into the ballroom made a spectacular sight. The dress code was formal, but with an invitation to be colourful, and the guests had taken it at its word. Dresses every colour of the spectrum were there, the ladies resembling creatures from a fairy tale of long ago, the men dashing in their rich long-tails. The masks, all hand-crafted, ranged from simple yet hauntingly beautiful pieces that covered only the eyes to elaborate, bejewelled face-covering creations. It was a sight that made Beth’s heart soar.
As the guests lined the sides of the great ballroom, ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right, a quartet of ballet dancers from Compania de Ballet de Casillas performed a short opening dance to welcome them, before gracefully leaving and being replaced by two-dozen professional ballroom dancers.
The professionals danced the first waltz alone and then the master of ceremonies instructed the gentlemen to choose a partner. Soon, four hundred people filled the floor, the dresses whirling in a wonderful kaleidoscope of colour.
For the next dance, the ladies got to choose their partner. Only one man refused to relinquish his dance partner, and as that man was Giannis Basinas himself no one was going to argue the point with him.
From that moment, the evening passed in a blur, and Beth found herself able to breathe properly.
She regularly monitored the other rooms, unobtrusively checking and double-checking everything, ready to instruct a team member to fix the tiniest imperfection.
She had lost track of time when she made another return to the ballroom and received a tap on the shoulder.
Spinning around, expecting to find a male guest requesting a dance—something she had had to decline four times already—her heart leapt into her throat to find Valente standing before her, two flutes of champagne in his hands.
He held one out to her and bowed his head.
