heard of your existence when he asked his PA to phone you about the party.’
Marnie tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had taken an immediate dislike to Fergus, but smiled politely. At least the accountant had spoken to her, which was more than any of Leandro’s other staff had done. She had felt nervous enough when she’d arrived alone at the restaurant which had been booked for the private party, and the curious glances she’d received from the other guests had made her feel worse.
Like her, everyone seemed to be waiting for Leandro. He was fifteen minutes late and, although she’d tried calling him, his phone was constantly busy. There was nothing new in that, Marnie thought ruefully. She had only spoken to him a few times in the past two weeks while he had been away on a business trip to New York.
‘Leandro gets frustrated with the paparazzi’s constant attention so we avoid popular restaurants and bars,’ she explained to Fergus.
In fact lately she had wondered why Leandro never asked her to accompany him to social events, such as the star-studded film premiere he’d attended the previous week.
‘I’m going to the premiere because it’s a good business opportunity and a chance to network,’ he’d told her when, for the first time in their relationship, Marnie had queried why he hadn’t invited her to go with him.
‘You won’t know anyone, and I’m sure you would be bored.’ Her disappointment must have shown on her face, because then he had said in a conciliatory tone, ‘We’ll go out for dinner when I get back from New York. In fact we’ll have a weekend away somewhere. Choose where you want to go and I’ll make the arrangements. How about Prague? You’ve often said you would like to visit the city.’
He had avoided further discussion by taking her to bed, but later, after he had fallen asleep, Marnie had realised that yet again he had distracted her with the promise of a trip away together and sex—which always reassured her that although their relationship might be unconventional she was extremely happy living with Leandro and he seemed equally content.
The fact that she was here at this party he was giving for his staff from Vialli Entertainment, to celebrate the completed refurbishments of his latest theatre project, was proof that he had listened to her small complaint about their relationship and invited her. Admittedly he must have made a last-minute decision to include her, and he had left it to his PA to relay to Marnie the details of the venue and the time of the party.
Determined to dress to impress for her first public appearance with Leandro, she had shopped for a new outfit on Bond Street. But it had been an unenjoyable experience—not only because the price labels on the clothes had seriously stretched her overdraft, but memories of the humiliating incident when she was eighteen and had been accused of shoplifting from a big department store had made her feel tense while she’d been trying on outfits.
If she had spent a bit longer looking in the mirror at the boutique, rather than being in a rush to change back into her own clothes, she might have noticed that the dress was a fraction too tight, she thought as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The black velvet dress clung to her hourglass figure, which was more curvaceous since she had gained a few pounds recently. She hoped that the string of pearls around her throat would detract attention from the dress’s plunging neckline.
Glancing around the restaurant, she noted that all the female members of Leandro’s staff were slimmer and more sophisticated than her. Self-doubt gripped her. When she had first met Leandro, at the cocktail bar and restaurant where she worked, one of the other waitresses had told her that he had a reputation as a playboy who liked to date beautiful models and socialites. Marnie knew, realistically, that she was only averagely attractive, and she had never understood why Leandro had chosen her for his lover when he could have had any woman he wanted.
A flurry of activity on the other side of the restaurant caught her attention, and her heart leapt when the door opened and Leandro Vialli strode in.
Nothing about his lean, lithe, jaw-droppingly handsome appearance indicated that he had stepped off a long-haul flight less than an hour ago. He would have flown from New York on his private jet, before travelling to the restaurant in his chauffeur-driven Bentley, and he looked like a model from a glossy magazine.
The cut of his jacket revealed the width of his broad shoulders and his tapered trousers moulded his muscular thighs and emphasised his long legs. His golden tanned complexion and the thick mahogany hair swept back from his brow indicated his Mediterranean heritage, although he spoke with a faint American drawl.
The tabloids called him an Italian playboy, while the broadsheets reported on his meteoric career success. Leandro owned several West End theatres and was responsible for restoring some of the most historically important venues in London. And Vialli Entertainment was only an offshoot of his property development giant Vialli Holdings in New York—one of the top businesses in the US with a portfolio worth billions.
His hard-boned features revealed nothing of his thoughts, but the cynical curve of his lips spoke of a man who was confident in his abilities and dismissive of fools. He exuded an air of power and charisma that sent a thrill of excitement through Marnie.
She had missed him desperately while he had been away, and she wanted to run towards him and throw herself into his arms. But she restrained the impulse, aware that Leandro disliked public displays of emotion. The thought came into her mind that even when they were alone he kept his emotions under tight control, and only when they made love did his reserved air sometimes crack.
She slid off the bar stool and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. Her mouth curved into a smile—which faltered as Leandro’s steel-grey gaze raked the room and an expression of surprise followed by one of irritation flickered on his face when he saw her. In that moment the uncertainty that had plagued Marnie lately settled like wet concrete in the pit of her stomach.
Five days ago it had been the first anniversary of when they had become lovers, but Leandro hadn’t phoned from New York to wish her happy anniversary. When he had called a day later she had felt reluctant to remind him of the significant date, although she’d harboured a secret hope that he was planning to celebrate their anniversary when he came home. But Leandro did not look in a celebratory mood as he strode towards her.
He was probably tired after his journey. She ignored the thought that he had amazing energy and an insatiable libido and could make love to her several times a night. She would not let her insecurities—which she suspected stemmed from having been abandoned by her father when she was a child—spoil what she had with Leandro, Marnie told herself firmly.
Her heart skipped a beat when he halted in front of her. The familiar spicy scent of his aftershave teased her senses and her insides melted. Despite the fact that she was wearing four-inch heels she had to tilt her head to meet his distinctly cool gaze.
‘Cara, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’
‘But you invited me...didn’t you?’ Her voice faltered as her heart plummeted. ‘Your PA phoned me yesterday and said you had asked her to let me know about the party.’
Leandro frowned. ‘My actual instruction to Julie was to inform you that the date of the staff party had been brought forward from next week to this evening because the restaurant had made a mistake with the booking. I was involved in important negotiations in New York and couldn’t phone you myself, but I wanted to warn you that I wouldn’t be home until late tonight.’
‘I see.’
Humiliation swept in a tide of heated colour across Marnie’s
