think this is a very good idea indeed.’
Either Rafe’s secretary seemed incredibly attuned to her state of nervousness, or he was simply good at relating Montvelatte small talk and delivering it in easily digestible chunks as the car wended its way down the mountainside to the city far below.
Whether it was because he thought she needed time to soak in the details, or whether it was because he knew that by saying nothing she would have more time to dwell on—and panic about—the meeting that was to come, she neither knew nor cared. She was just grateful for the company and for the quiet reassurance his presence offered.
Before long the vineyards of the slope had given way to the poplar-lined river road, studded with gated estates and grove after grove of orange trees, and then they were in the city itself, heading towards the harbour on narrow streets squeezed between two- and three-storey buildings, or beside cafés where the patrons spilled out almost to the street.
Sienna gazed out of the window, watching the city and its people, dodging through the scooter-filled traffic, which carried elegant-looking dark-haired women and men with equally dark good looks, and sometimes what looked like entire families hanging on around the driver. There was colour here, life and action, and every trip to Velatte City she found more fascinating.
And then they were on the wide Boulevard Lombardi that separated the hotels and casinos that hugged the shoreline from the marina filled with the latest and greatest in nautical accessories. And there, in the middle of the strip, she could see the dome of their destination glowing green above the surrounding buildings.
‘Casino de Velatte is our oldest and most prestigious casino, often referred to as the jewel in Montvelatte’s crown,’ said Sebastiano from alongside. ‘The recital is being held as part of the Casino’s bicentennial celebrations.’
The car slowed as they approached, and land that had once been at a premium opened up before them in a series of gardens, each more beautiful than the next with their skilful plantings and water features, and cleverly designed to draw the eye up to where the gardens gave way to the towering forecourt of the grandest casino of them all.
Rafe hadn’t brought her here, and she looked at the building in awe. It should be a palace, she decided, as the car pulled up at the doors, the gleaming marble-tiled entrance way glowing gold in warm splashes of light from the crystal chandelier above.
Her door was opened from the outside, and Sienna stepped out into another world, a world featuring not just the opulence of the Castello, but an extravagance she’d never experienced before. Even over the scent of the perfumed garden and the salty tang of fresh sea air, she could almost smell the money.
She didn’t belong here.
In a moment of panic she turned back towards the car, but then Sebastiano was at her side, taking her arm, stilling her retreat. He exchanged a few words with the concierge and then was guiding her forwards, through the doors that would lead her to Rafe, and she was never more afraid in her life. She was no seductress. She was no princess. She was a fraud, and there was no way everybody wouldn’t know it.
Inside was even more opulent, and the glances they attracted more openly curious, and if it hadn’t been for the guiding hand at her elbow, she would have fled in a heartbeat. Instead she was led deeper and deeper into the building, skirting around tables surrounded by the rich and elegant, accompanied by the click and roll of the roulette ball and the hushed murmurs of encouragement to the wheel, past some of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen, wearing figure-hugging gowns, and bearing trays of champagne.
Ushered into a lift adorned in the casino’s signature colours of gold, burgundy and navy blue, she let out a long breath.
‘You’re doing fine,’ said Sebastiano, alongside her, reading her like an open book.
She looked over at him, surprised at his encouragement.
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