CHAPTER SEVEN
Resisting the Sicilian Playboy
Amanda Cinelli
For my dear friend Kirsty.
This story would never have been finished without you.
For my mother, Audrey. For your unwavering belief in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.
And for my father, Paolo. For showing me that with hard work and determination you can achieve anything.
DARA DEVLIN HAD found herself in a few sticky situations in this job, but this had to be by far the worst.
A professional event planner should never gatecrash. It had to be written somewhere in the company handbook. Yet here she was, straddling the second-floor balcony ledge of Milan’s most exclusive nightclub in four-inch designer heels.
All in the name of business, of course.
The heels had certainly slowed progress up the slippery emergency ladder, but leaving them in the alley below was unthinkable. A woman stood by her shoes, no matter how sticky the situation. And this situation most definitely qualified as sticky.
Handbag in one hand, she silently willed her skirt not to tear as she manoeuvred herself less than gracefully over the cold stone ledge, landing on hard marble tiles. Her watch showed it was just past ten. An unfashionably early time to be going clubbing in this part of the world, but dancing wasn’t on her agenda tonight.
The city’s premier celebrity hotspot, Platinum I, was celebrating its grand reopening this weekend and entry was strictly invitation only. No amount of her Irish charm would sway the arrogant hostess with her little black clipboard.
Nevertheless, Dara was determined to get into this party one way or another. She was only in town for the weekend before she had to head back south to her company’s office in Syracuse. Failing this task just wasn’t an option.
When her various contacts had said Leonardo Valente was untouchable, she had accepted the challenge with enthusiasm. She had the opportunity to plan the most high-profile wedding of her career—all she needed was one man’s cooperation.
How hard could it be?
Even after three weeks of rejected emails and dead-end phone calls she had refused to give up. Armed with her tablet computer and her snazziest designer suit, she had foolishly believed she could just travel to his Milan office and demand to be seen.
The joke
