‘Fran is a girl after our hearts,’ Nonna said, patting Fran’s hand. ‘It was all her idea. We just helped a bit.’
‘Happy birthday, boss.’ Amy produced a large envelope and a box at the far end of the table, and it was handed down to him.
He opened the card to discover that all the staff of Giovanni’s had signed it. And the present was the new boxed set of remastered CDs by his favourite band—a gift that only someone who noticed things the way Fran did would’ve thought to buy him. ‘I…this is fantastic. I’m a bit lost for words.’ Understatement of the year. It had completely thrown him. ‘Thank you—all of you. I had absolutely no idea.’ He looked at Fran. ‘How did you organise this?’
‘Same way anyone would organise an office party.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
Oh, yes, it was. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to organise this, in an incredibly short space of time and in utter secrecy.
‘People think a lot of you, Gio,’ she said softly. ‘And they want to make a fuss of you, once in a while.’
A fuss he didn’t normally let people make.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent an evening like this. Although the staff at Giovanni’s always had a Christmas party, he usually stayed long enough to be sociable but left early, reasoning that they wouldn’t want the boss around to put a dampener on festivities. Tonight, they were definitely letting their hair down—but they were all there because they wanted to celebrate his birthday with him. Share his special day.
Just before coffee was served, he said quietly to Fran, ‘This is the best birthday I’ve had in years. It’s been really wonderful. Because of you.’
‘My pleasure.’
For a moment, their gazes meshed and held. Was he seeing what he wanted to see, or did that expression in her eyes mean…?
The moment was lost when Marco brought round the coffee.
‘And Amaretti for luck,’ Nonna added, fishing a box from under the table and handing it to Marco so he could share them out.
‘Why for luck?’ Fran asked.
‘You don’t know the story? About three hundred years ago, the cardinal of Milan went to pay a visit to Saronno, a poor town where two lovers worked, but they had little chance of marrying. In honour of the cardinal, they invented the Amaretti biscuit, and wrapped them in pairs to symbolise their love. The cardinal took pity on their plight—he blessed them, allowed them to marry and presided over the wedding feast. And Amaretti biscuits have always been wrapped in pairs, ever since, to remind people of the importance of true love.’
True love.
What Nonna and his family thought was happening between him and Fran.
Guilt throbbed through him. He was lying to them. For the best of reasons, but still lying to them. And that wasn’t who he was.
It wasn’t who Fran was, either.
Nonna cleared her throat, and it was clear everyone was expecting him to kiss the girl who’d made it all happen, because they were all looking at him and Fran with the most soppy expression on their faces.
So what else could he do?
He leaned over towards her and touched his mouth to hers. It felt as if the room was full of erupting party-poppers again, a mass of glittering tinsel strands. And when he broke the kiss and opened his eyes, Fran looked as shell-shocked as he felt, with wide eyes and a white face. But all he could focus on was her mouth. A perfect rosebud. Lips he wanted to feel against his again.
Except they weren’t alone, and he could hear catcalls and whistles in the background.
Just how long had he been kissing her?
Oh, lord. This was starting to get really complicated.
The next morning, Fran was still shell-shocked. That kiss should’ve been for show. So why had it felt so real? Why had it felt as if the stars were dancing when Gio’s mouth had moved against hers—even more so than the time when he’d kissed her on her sofa?
But she pulled herself together and headed for work as usual.
‘It was a good night, last night,’ Sally said, handing her a mug. ‘Though you look distinctly hung over this morning, Frannikins.’
‘I feel it,’ Fran said. Not that she’d drunk a huge amount; she just hadn’t slept well, the previous night. Hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Gio. Hadn’t been able to get the fantasies out of her head.
‘Gio said to tell you he’s in Docklands this morning, but he’ll call you later,’ Sally added. ‘You know, I’ve never seen him look this happy before, and I’ve worked with him for five years now. When I realised you two were an item, I was a bit worried at first—relationships at work normally make things a bit sticky. But you’ve changed him, Fran. Made him relax.’