Reunited with Her Italian Ex by Lucy Gordon Page B

connections. She gets published everywhere.’
    More applause, but Natasha held up her hand for silence.
    â€˜We’re not going to take chances,’ she said. ‘This “article” will actually be an advertisement. We buy a double-page spread and insert our own text and pictures. That way we can be sure of being read. What matters is to get things done the way we want. Of course it will be costly. Advertisements have to be paid for, and perhaps some of you won’t want to accept that expense. Let’s take a vote. Hands up anyone who’s against the idea.’
    Not a single hand was raised.
    â€˜We’ll do it your way,’ called a voice.
    There were cheers and applause, which went on until they were interrupted by the sound of music.
    â€˜That’s coming from the ballroom,’ Amadore told her. ‘Our guests like to dance in the evening.’
    â€˜A ballroom is wonderful,’ she said. ‘The Capulets gave a ball for Juliet and Paris, the man they wanted her to marry, which Romeo gatecrashed to see another girl that he was in love with. Instead he met Juliet and they fell in love within a few minutes. Without that ball it might never have happened.’
    â€˜Then come and have a look,’ Amadore said eagerly.
    Everyone crowded after them as he led her along a short corridor, throwing open a double door at the end, revealing a huge, beautiful room where couples were whirling.
    â€˜Perfect,’ she murmured.
    Amadore took her hand. ‘Dance with me.’
    Smiling, she let him draw her into his arms and guide her onto the floor. He was an excellent dancer and she responded gladly. When the music stopped another man stepped in to claim her, then another.
    At last she found herself facing Mario.
    â€˜You’ve danced with everyone else,’ he observed. ‘Will it ever be my turn?’
    â€˜Not until you ask me.’
    â€˜No,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to ask you.’
    But as he spoke his arm went around her waist in a grip too firm for her to resist, even if she had wanted to.
    They had danced together once before. One night in Venice, when they had been having supper at an outdoor café in St Mark’s Square, a band had started to play and before she knew it she was waltzing in his arms.
    â€˜Is this all right?’ he’d whispered.
    â€˜I’ll let you know later,’ she had teased.
    It had lasted only a few minutes, and she had promised herself that one day she would dance with him again. But the next day they had broken up, and it had never happened again. Until now.
    It was unnerving to feel his arms around her, his hand on her waist, holding her close. Her heart was beating softly but fervently. She glanced at him, trying to know if he felt the same. Would he invite her to dance with him again?
    But before he could speak they became aware of a middle-aged man on the edge of the crowd, trying to attract their attention.
    â€˜Ah, there’s Francesco,’ Mario said. ‘I hoped he’d be here. He owns one of the biggest hotels, and I always like to have him on my side. Let’s go and say hello.’
    Francesco beamed, greeting Natasha with an embrace.
    â€˜It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said warmly. ‘Now, let me introduce my daughter, Laura.’
    The young woman with him was in her mid-twenties with a beautiful face and an air of confidence that came from being always in demand.
    â€˜How have you done?’ she said carefully to Natasha.
    â€˜No,’ her father interrupted her. ‘Not like that,
cara
. The English say “How do you do?” not “How have you done?”’
    â€˜How do you do?’ Laura echoed, smiling. ‘Is that right?’
    â€˜That is perfect,’ her father said.
    He spoke proudly and Natasha knew a slight twinge of sadness as a memory came back to her from long ago. She had heard that pride before, in her own