The Ultimate Playboy(104)

                * * *

                Ruby smoothed her hand down the sea-green dress and tried to stem the butterflies.

                In less than half an hour, the grand opening of Dolce Italia would be under way.

                Two months of sheer, sometimes blessedly mind-numbing, hard work. She’d volunteered for every job that didn’t require specialist training in the blind hope of drowning out the acute pain and devastation of having to live without Narciso. Her success rate had been woefully pathetic...

                ‘Are you ready yet, bella bambina? The paparazzi will be here in a minute.’ Her mother entered, wearing an orange silk gown that pleasantly complemented her slim figure. Despite being in her late forties, Paloma looked ten years younger. With her divorce from her philandering husband firmly underway, she appeared to have acquired a new lease on life. The spring in her step had grown even bolder when Ruby had allowed her to take a financial stake in the restaurant.

                She stopped in the middle of the small room they’d converted to a dressing room at the back of the two-storey restaurant and cocktail bar in the prime location in Manhattan.

                ‘Oh, you look stunning,’ she said, then her eyes darkened with worry. ‘A little on the thin side, though.’

                ‘Don’t fuss, Mamma.’

                ‘It’s my job to fuss. A job I neglected for years.’

                Knowing she was about to lapse into another self-recriminating rant, Ruby rushed forward and hugged her. ‘What’s done is done, Mamma. Now we look forward.’

                Her mother blinked brown eyes bright with unshed tears and nodded. ‘Speaking of moving forward, the most exquisite bouquet of flowers arrived for you.’

                Ruby’s breath caught, then rushed out in a gush of pain. ‘I don’t want them.’

                Her mother frowned. ‘What woman doesn’t want flowers on the most spectacular night of her life?’

                ‘Me.’

                ‘Are you sure you’re all right? Last week you sent back that superb crate of white Alba truffles, the week before you refused the diamond tennis bracelet. I wish you’d tell me who all these gifts are from.’

                ‘It doesn’t matter who they’re from. I don’t want any of them.’ She fought the rising emotions back. She’d shed enough tears to last her a lifetime.

                Not tonight. With her mother as her new business partner, she’d paid off Giacomo’s loan and closed that chapter.

                Tonight, she would push Narciso and his in-your-face gifts out of her mind and bask in her accomplishment.

                ‘I’m ready.’

                They entered the large reception area to find a three-deep row of photographers and film crew awaiting them. In the time she’d decided to open the restaurant with her mother, Paloma had guided her in how to deal with the press. Where her reaction to them had been led by fear and resentment, now she used banter and firmness to achieve her aim.

                With the press conferences and TV junkets taken care off, her mother passed her the scissors and she moved to a large white ribbon.

                ‘Ladies and gentlemen, my mother, Paloma, and I are proud to declare Dolce Italia open—’

                At first she thought she was hallucinating. Then the face became clearer.