CHAPTER SIX

THE CHRISTMAS CHARITY fundraising gala was still days away but Emilia had already had far too much time to think about it.

To think about Domenico.

Not that she’d seen much of him since the night they’d had dinner together. Even when their schedules could have allowed them to meet for a run in the park, the weather had been cold and wet enough to prevent that happening. There’d even been sleet one day and weather forecasts were predicting snow before Christmas. Trauma team callouts had been few and far between as well and Emilia had missed two of them because she’d been in Theatre and the cases had been complicated enough not to be able to let her senior resident take over. Their paths had crossed yesterday in the ICU when Emilia had been making one of her regular visits to follow the progress of Roberto’s recovery from his leg injury but that had been a strictly professional interaction. Until, that was, Dom had tilted his head and lowered his voice as if he was saying something about the notes Emilia had made in Roberto’s patient file that he didn’t want anybody else to hear.

‘Got that dress yet?’ he’d murmured.

Emilia had shaken her head. ‘Haven’t had time to go shopping,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’m not really sure I want to go. I don’t even know how to dance.’

The amused glint in Dom’s eyes had told her that he thought he knew exactly what was bothering her—that, like him perhaps, she hated doing something in public unless she knew she could do it very, very well.

‘You’re coming,’ he’d said softly. ‘You’re going to show the world that you’re capable of doing anything, Dr Featherstone.’ His lips twitched. ‘Even wearing a dress...’

So, here she was. In one of Seattle’s largest department stores, in the area devoted to evening dresses and ballgowns. With spacious changing rooms and a huge, gilt-framed mirror for anyone who wanted to come out of the private cubicles to get the full effect of the gown they were trying on.

‘Do you need some help in there?’

‘No... I’m good. I don’t think I like this, though.’

‘Come out and look in the big mirror. It can make a difference.’

But the classic ‘little black dress’ Emilia was trying didn’t look any better from a distance, even when she held her hair up to pretend she had a sophisticated evening updo to go with it. The black fabric made her skin look far too pale and there was rather too much of it on show with that short skirt length.

‘It makes me look like a member of the Addams family,’ she sighed. ‘Or like I’m on my way to a Hollywood funeral. It’s not right for a Christmas ball, is it?’

‘Hmm...’ The grey-haired senior shop assistant—Margie, according to her name badge—pursed her lips as the gaze she had focussed on Emilia became thoughtful. ‘It’s not the Seattle General Christmas gala that you’re going to, is it?’

‘It is.’

‘Lucky you. That’s the most A-list party we get around these parts. Where’s it being held this year?’

‘At the Polar Club Hotel, I believe.’

‘Oh...’ The older woman actually clasped her hands in awe. ‘I’ve been in there. That room with the dome ceiling and the chandeliers is incredible...’ She let her breath out in a long sigh. That thoughtful expression had given way to something more like determination. ‘Right... Take that dress off, love. I’ve got something else I think you definitely have to try on.’

Emilia went back into the small changing room and it was a relief to peel the black dress from her body. Imagine what Dom would have thought if she’d turned up with her legs on display like that? Would she have seen that spark of whatever it was she’d seen the other night rekindled in his gaze? That mutual physical awareness that had launched shafts of desire, the aftermath of which was still powerful enough to be disturbing.

Did she want to see that?

Oh, man... For a long moment, Emilia held the dress against her bare midriff as she felt the now familiar spiral of sensations deep within. Fragments of many conversations she’d had with herself in the last few days—mostly in that quiet space of sleepless hours when it wasn’t possible to distract yourself—were swirling in her head again now.

She’d always known that Domenico di Rossi was dangerous. Right from that first moment she’d seen his effect on the women around him at medical school. It had been at that moment that she’d vowed to ignore him on a personal level because nothing was going to distract her from her dream of becoming a doctor and escaping every dark thing her life had included so far.

Those reasons were no longer valid, however. Emilia had long since arrived at where she’d dreamed of being. She’d escaped her past to the extent that the only contact with anybody from her early life was the annual Christmas card she sent to Mrs Delaney—the person who’d encouraged her to believe that she could escape. What would her eleventh-grade teacher think of her now, she wondered, if she could see her getting ready to try on a ballgown to wear to attend one of Seattle’s most glittering nights of the year in the prestigious and historic Polar Club Hotel?

No...any danger that Dom represented now had nothing to do with her ambitions. As her sleepless nights had forced Emilia to pick at the knot of emotions that were building and try to understand what was going on, she recognised that the danger now was that she was playing with fire. That what was going on here had the potential to hurt her enough to cause some lasting damage.

She cared about Dom. She had done for far longer than she’d ever realised. Their rivalry and their banter had been protection and a very effective disguise for the significance their connection had always had the potential to have. Had she really thought that these new feelings were nothing like having a crush on someone or falling in love? Maybe if she’d faced this earlier, she could have stopped herself before she’d travelled too far down that path of falling in love but it felt like she’d passed the point of no return now. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop her body from letting her know just how much it wanted to be a whole lot closer to the man.

How many girls at medical school had felt like this about Dom? The lucky ones had enjoyed a brief time in his life and presumably in his bed but, even back then, she’d been aware of a curious level of control on Dom’s part. Despite his popularity and charm, he’d always kept an emotional distance and ended relationships before they became anything serious. She understood why now. Dom couldn’t afford to fall in love with just anyone, could he? Not when the woman he chose to share his life would eventually become the Queen of his country?

At least Emilia had an advantage that none of those girls had had, because she knew that the path of falling in love with Domenico di Rossi had that dead end. And thank goodness Dom had no idea how she felt. She’d told him she was happy on her own and it was true. She was happy on her own. She certainly wasn’t about to invent any fantasies based on a future with him because she knew what was coming and that it was quite possible that Dom would vanish from her life before Christmas, which wasn’t that far away. There were children all over the world who had started counting down how many sleeps until then. Waiting for the magic to happen.

‘Here I am...’ Margie the shop assistant sounded breathless. ‘Sorry to take so long. This dress had been put out the back. It’s actually from the season before last but...it’s special...and, as a bonus, we’ll be able to give you a great discount on it.’

Emilia opened the door of her changing area and actually laughed aloud. ‘It’s red. Haven’t you noticed my hair?’

‘Pfft... Who listens to old-fashioned rules like that these days? For goodness sake, some girls have blue or green hair now. Nobody’s making rules about what colours they’re allowed or not allowed to wear, are they?’

Emilia couldn’t argue with that. And Margie was looking so excited, she had to humour her by trying on the dress. Her legs certainly weren’t visible under the mass of floor length ripples of silk and the embroidered and beaded bodice with its low, sweetheart neckline fitted like a glove as it got zipped up. With a built-in bra there was nothing to detract from the delicate, lace straps that put the colour right beside the loose waves of Emilia’s hair.

And, if anything, this shade of scarlet was like a celebration of her hair colour rather than anything that clashed horribly.

‘Come out and look in the big mirror again,’ Margie urged.

Emilia could feel the skirt rippling around her legs as she moved. When she stepped up to look at herself in the mirror, she instinctively smoothed her hands over her hips, where the dress clung before exploding into what felt like miles of fabric that was so fine it still hung close to her body. And maybe it was the feel of her hands on silk that was like a second skin that started the fairy dust. That made her imagine so clearly how it would feel if it was Dom’s hands on her hips instead of her own. The thought took her breath away completely.

She didn’t need to wait for any form of Christmas magic because she had her own magic happening right now.

A red Cinderella ballgown to wear.

A prince waiting to dance with her.

‘Oh, love...’ Margie’s voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Don’t you look like a princess?’

That should have added to the fairy dust but, instead, Emilia was aware of a wash of something like panic. She kept her gaze on her reflection but pressed her fingers against her lips. What did she think she was doing—planning to go out with a prince for the evening? What if there were paparazzi around and photos came out everywhere and people found out where she’d come from and Dom ended up being embarrassed by her?

Emilia could feel that odd prickle at the back of her eyes again. Why was her body suddenly remembering how to form tears? If she wasn’t careful, they might escape one of these days and what would that do for the tough, confident image she’d cultivated so well for so long? The tears weren’t going to fall this time but they did smudge her reflection in the mirror enough to make it dreamlike.

And that’s all this was. A small step out of real life for a very limited amount of time. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, in fact, because Dom’s identity couldn’t stay secret for ever. But it was still secret now and that meant there wouldn’t be any paparazzi. The only thing that would shock anybody from Seattle General would be that she and Dom were attending a social event together instead of baiting each other or competing in some way.

They weren’t to know how much further from real life Emilia’s evening out was. How she really felt about Dom. Or that she was still a little dubious about wearing this colour for the first time in her life. She’d always been told to never wear red. Along with being told that she’d never amount to anything. That she’d end up just like her no-good mother.

She could hear a dismissive huff at the back of her mind and it sounded a lot like Mrs Delaney. She could even imagine exactly what her beloved teacher might say if she was standing here beside her.

You’ve already proved all those small-minded people wrong so why on earth would you think you can’t wear red? You can do anything you want, Emilia Featherstone. Be whoever you want. Get out there and celebrate, my girl. Believe in yourself. Be proud of yourself...

Dom had told her she was capable of doing anything. He wanted to see her wearing a dress. It had to be this dress because even if it was an imagined conversation with Mrs Delaney, her words rang true.

Emilia was proud of herself.

And she wanted Dom to be proud of her again as well—the way he said he had been when she’d shown that she could beat him academically. Maybe this could be an escape from real life for him, too—before he had to face the unimaginable responsibilities of ruling a country. A small fantasy that he would remember—a magic night together with her—for many years after he was gone. One that she, Emilia, suspected she would be remembering for the rest of her life.

She swallowed hard but then turned to smile brightly at Margie. ‘This dress is perfect,’ she said. ‘Just the colour for Christmas.’

The Northern Star Dome Room of the Polar Club Hotel was a colourful scene—impressive even for someone who’d grown up being a part of lavish royal events. The glittering chandelier, the rococo motifs, the massive leaded, stained glass, domed ceiling that was subtly illuminated in festive shades of red and green made a wonderful backdrop for tables that had crisp, white linen cloths, floral decorations and sparkling silverware and crystal.

The colour that was impressing Dom the most, however, was the bright hue of Emilia’s gorgeous red dress. It wasn’t just the dress, either. The pale skin of her bare arms and shoulders seemed to have been dusted with some kind of shimmery powder. Her make-up was flawless but Dom liked that it was still natural enough for her distinctive freckles to show through. That fiery hair of hers had been cleverly looped up into a sort of bun although curly strands had been left to float down her neck and softly frame her face. There were even tiny red jewelled flowers that were somehow wound into her hair and sparkled every time she moved her head.

Emilia wasn’t just a very attractive woman.

Dio bono... She was stunning...

And she was his partner for the evening. Dom normally kept as low a profile as possible at any events like this, where photographers were keen to get shots for the social pages of local publications but tonight he didn’t care. It wasn’t just that his identity was not going to stay secret for much longer, given that he would be returning to rule Isola Verde very soon, it was that he was proud to be Emilia’s partner. Proud of her, doing something that he suspected was well out of her comfort zone. Proud of how beautiful she was, as well. He wanted to show her off to the world.

And this small corner of the world was most definitely looking astonished that he and Emilia had apparently come as partners when they were always giving each other such a hard time at work. Well...wait until they saw them dancing together later, Dom thought, as he chose a delicious looking risotto ball from the tray of hors d’oeuvres a waiter was offering on a silver tray. As long as Emilia allowed him to lead her, of course, and didn’t decide it was some sort of competition that she needed to win. Dom knew that if she could suppress her desire to be the best, for once, he could make her look fabulous on the dance floor. He was actually looking forward to that part of the evening with a surprisingly delicious anticipation.

In the meantime, he had to wonder why Ayanna Franklin was staring at him with such concentration. A quirk of his eyebrow had her apologising instantly.

‘Sorry... I was just wondering if you liked that risotto ball.’

‘It was delicious.’

‘And have you tried the smoked salmon? Or the chicken satay skewers?’

‘I’ve tried the chicken skewers,’ Emilia told Ayanna. ‘They’re delicious, too.’

‘Oh...thank goodness for that.’ Ayanna let out a relieved breath. ‘I haven’t had time to try them myself yet. There’s a lot to do to make sure an event this size goes well.’

‘Relax,’ Emilia told her. ‘Enjoy yourself. You’ve done a wonderful job of organising this gala—I’m so impressed.’

‘Me too,’ Dom said, turning his head as he noticed his father’s neurosurgeon coming towards them. ‘Hi, Max... We’re just saying what an amazing job Ayanna’s done with the decorations and catering for tonight.’

Max Granger’s nod was polite but Ayanna didn’t look reassured by either Dom’s praise or Max’s agreement. If anything, she was looking even more tense.

‘Excuse me... I’d better go and check up on how things are going in the kitchens.’

Ayanna’s green dress vanished amongst the crowd as Dom let his gaze scan the room.

‘I wonder if Giada’s here yet?’

‘She is,’ Max told him, and then lowered his voice. ‘I’ve spoken to her and told her what I told you earlier today—that if...ah... Mr Baresi’s condition continues to improve we can look at going ahead with his original surgery very soon. Maybe as soon as the planned date of the fifteenth. I should have a better idea after the scan that’s booked in for first thing tomorrow.’

Dom acknowledged the information with no more than a single nod. ‘I’ll see her soon enough,’ he murmured. ‘I believe we’re seated at the same table for dinner and it looks as though they’re getting ready to serve the first course.’

Max turned to move away but then looked back. ‘Don’t miss the dessert,’ he told them. ‘It’s something very special. Worth all the effort it took to find.’

Emilia watched him walk away. ‘I wonder how he knows that?’ she said. ‘I thought the food tonight was Ayanna’s responsibility.’

‘One of them,’ Dom agreed. ‘She’s had rather a lot of responsibility lately what with trying to ensure that information that needs to stay private stays that way. And part of that is the reason why Max is here, of course. I believe she’s been working closely with him.’

‘Well, I hope she gets to enjoy tonight. It would be unfair if it’s just stressful for her. Oh...look...there’s Lucas. I haven’t seen him since the day of the accident.’

‘No...’ Dom was delighted to see his best friend again. And his sister, who was approaching with Lucas, although he couldn’t advertise their relationship by anything as personal as a hug. He was smiling warmly as he greeted her, however.

‘You’re looking good, Gigi.’

Better than good, he thought. It was more than the lovely, purple dress she was wearing, with the sparkly top that left one shoulder bare. Or the earrings that looked as if they were part of the royal family’s famous collection of rare jewels. His sister probably didn’t need the accessories to make her look so good because she was almost glowing.

‘You look like you’ve caught a nice bit of sunshine,’ he added.

Giada was smiling back at him. ‘Hard not to in Isola Verde,’ she said. ‘Even in winter.’

‘It’s the most beautiful place,’ Lucas agreed. He was looking at Giada as he spoke but then looked back to catch Dom’s raised eyebrow.

‘Or so Gigi’s told me,’ he added hurriedly.

Dom blinked this time. There weren’t that many people who got to call the Crown Princess of Isola Verde by her pet name.

‘Your dress is beautiful,’ Emilia was saying to Giada.

‘So is yours. That red is spectacular.’ Giada slid a sideways look at her brother and then back at Emilia, clearly wondering what their connection was. ‘You work together, yes? Didn’t I see you in the ER on the day of the accident?’

‘Yes, but we only work together sometimes. I’m a trauma surgeon with the orthopaedic department at Seattle General.’

‘We went to medical school together,’ Dom put in. ‘We’re old friends, Gigi, that’s all.’

The idea of even being ‘old friends’ would have seemed presumptuous just a few weeks ago, but things between them had changed so much that the idea that someone would think they were actually a couple didn’t seem far-fetched at all. The idea was not unpleasant, either. Impossible, of course, but what man wouldn’t want to follow through on an attraction that had been taken to an entirely new level this evening?

‘Oh...’ Giada’s response was drawn out just enough to suggest she didn’t quite believe that. The glance she shared with Lucas suggested that they had a silent conversation thing going on which made Dom wonder about connections between people but Giada turned away before he could ask any leading questions and he was distracted by her profile. His sister wasn’t just looking good because of the sunshine she’d been enjoying, it looked as though she’d made the most of the wonderful Italian food while she’d been at home. Or maybe it was just the cut of her dress that was making the most of her curves. Either way, it certainly wasn’t something Dom was going to mention.

Between courses, people were changing places or walking amongst the tables to chat with friends and toast what they hoped was going to be a record-breaking fundraising event.

‘Those tickets were well worth that hefty price tag,’ one of Seattle General’s obstetricians said to Dom and Emilia. ‘This place is amazing. And the food... I can’t wait for the dessert I saw on the menu. I have no idea what a London Fog Cake could be but I suspect I might have to start my New Year’s diet before Christmas at this rate.’

‘It’s all delicious,’ Emilia agreed. ‘That salad we started with...mmm... What was it called again?’

‘Caprese,’ Dom said. ‘It’s an Italian classic.’

‘Ah...’ The obstetrician smiled at Dom. ‘That would be right up your alley, then. You’ve got Italian heritage, haven’t you?’

‘It’s been a while since I’ve been there.’ Dom didn’t want to discuss his heritage and he was well-practised in deflecting awkward questions. ‘I’m more than half American now, I reckon. I didn’t realise that Seattle had a gem like this amongst its hotels, though. Do you know anything about its history?’

‘Not much. I do know it’s just over a hundred years old because they had some centenary celebrations not that long ago.’

Another Seattle General specialist stepped close to join the conversation. ‘I heard a story that the name came from a group of men who’d struck it rich in the Yukon gold rush and they formed a group and called it the Polar Club.’

‘Makes sense,’ Emilia put in. ‘The Yukon’s on the border with Alaska, isn’t it? With a coast on the Arctic Ocean? That must have been pretty cold...’

Dom excused himself to visit the restrooms and, by the time he returned, he saw that dessert was being served. Waiters were carrying silver trays with the most extraordinary looking cakes on top. With the smoky looking, streaked grey icing on the cakes, it was obvious where that unusual name had come from.

He stepped back to let a waiter walk past and found his steps slowing to a halt as he watched and listened for a moment. All around him he could hear animated conversation and laughter and cries of admiration as each table’s dessert was served. He could also hear the music from the small, live band, who’d been playing mostly classical music so far but seemed to be changing to popular music now, perhaps as a prelude to encouraging people to use the dance floor. It was still a brightly coloured, happy scene but right now, Dom didn’t feel a part of it at all.

Maybe it was because his sister was here, having just returned from Isola Verde and it was a reminder of how his life was about to be tipped upside down and that disturbing feeling had been dramatically heightened by the salad they’d been served this evening. A Caprese, for heaven’s sake. Tomatoes and mozzarella cheese and basil with a delicious olive oil that could have come straight from his homeland. Every bite had been full of the flavour of his former life—a life he was about to reluctantly step back into.

Most of the people in this spectacular ballroom were his colleagues. People who shared his passion for medicine and were as proud as he was of working in such a prestigious hospital. Dom’s gaze travelled back to the table nearest the dance floor. To the splash of vivid red that was Emilia’s dress. Of all the people here, she was the one who understood the most. Who was his soul mate as far as how important their careers were to who they actually were. The only other person he knew who’d needed to escape their background to be who they really were.

Dom didn’t want things to change but it was happening. With what Max had told him this evening, that process of change could be about to speed up. Whatever the outcome of his father’s next surgery, they would have to share the news and that would be the moment that Domenico di Rossi would have to become Domenico Baresi again. When he’d have to walk away from the life he loved so much here. From the people he loved working with.

From Emilia...

Another waiter went past where Dom was standing, this time carrying a tray of full champagne flutes. Dom reached out to accept the offer of a glass.

He still had tonight, he told himself, as he took a long sip and then another of the champagne. And maybe this was going to be his last chance to cling to everything he loved about this life, so he’d better make the most of it, hadn’t he?

Another long sip emptied his glass and another waiter took it from his hand as Dom walked back to his table.

To Emmy...

Dessert could wait, as far as he was concerned, anyway. If he was to make the most of what time he had left and not think about what was coming he had the best distraction of all waiting for him. Watching him walk towards her with a smile on her face, in fact. He held his hand out as he reached the table.

‘Come and dance with me,’ he invited.