A Cinderella To Secure His Heir. Michelle Smart

when she’d removed the cover to find an obviously expensive strapless, floor-length gold ball gown.

      ‘There is no mix-up. That’s your uniform for the evening.’

      ‘A ball gown? I need a proper uniform to wear so that guests and staff can identify me...’

      His laughter rumbled through her skin. ‘I am afraid it is too late to change it, bella. Enjoy it—consider it a reward for all your hard work. I will see you shortly.’

      Before she could protest any further he ended the call.

      She sighed and fingered the hem of the dress. It felt like silk. Further examination of it revealed no label to identify its maker.

      The dress was incredible. But it was not an appropriate dress for her to wear that night. As the event manager she needed to be easily identifiable, not look as if she could pass as one of the guests.

      But, as Valente had so helpfully pointed out, it was too late to change it. She had only a two-hour window until the first guests arrived.

      Instead of getting ready, she took Dom from Miranda, the nanny, gave him his bottle and played with him for a while. She wished she didn’t have to leave him again that night. Miranda had been great in sending her regular updates on his welfare that day but, despite being so busy, Beth had missed him horrendously. He’d been at her side since his birth.

      She kissed his plump cheek then kissed his button nose. ‘Mummy needs to get ready now,’ she told him, before handing him back to Miranda.

      Calling herself ‘Mummy’ was something that still caused a wrench in her heart. Caroline was his mummy but Caroline had made Beth promise to be his mummy. It was a promise she would keep for the rest of her life.

      Beth showered quickly, dried her hair and applied a little make-up then, with Miranda’s help, got into the dress.

      It fitted perfectly. The box that had lain on the floor beneath it contained a pair of gold shoes that also fitted perfectly.

      Who, she wondered moodily, had authorised such a dress for her? Giannis Basinas? If him, then why? She still hadn’t met him, all communication having been done through Valente.

      Had Valente authorised the dress?

      Which begged the question of who Valente was to Giannis. Her assumption that he worked at the hotel had proved to be wrong.

      But there was no time to wonder any longer. The guests would start arriving soon. She needed to be in the ballroom. She might be dressed like a princess but she was at this ball to work.

      Work or not, there was no denying that the anticipation running through her was on a scale she felt right down to her toes.

      * * *

      Alessio entered the already crowded reception room and helped himself to a glass of champagne. Being a good head taller than most people gave him the advantage of seeing over the elaborately dressed, highly excited guests, and the pianist entertaining them, but he couldn’t see Beth.

      He cut through the crowd. At the ballroom entrance he nodded at the security man guarding it, who opened the door for him.

      And there she was, clipboard and tablet in hand as they’d been earlier, making her way around the tables lining the east and west walls of the room, double checking that everything was perfect...

      His throat closed as he took in the perfection of her.

      The dress he’d selected for her fitted as if the seamstress had sewn it with Beth as her mannequin. The curves of her body, that the outfits in which he’d seen her before had only hinted at, were more feminine than he’d imagined. She’d swept her dark hair into an elegant chignon which exposed the grace of her neck and emphasised the beauty of her bone structure.

      If his plan continued its successful path, it would not be long before his lips grazed that graceful neck...and the rest of that ravishing body.

      Beth had beauty and an exquisite eye for detail. With his guidance, she had the potential to be as great an asset to Palvetti as all the other Palvetti spouses had been.

      With his guidance, she would become the perfect Palvetti wife.

      He just had to keep the deception going a little longer, until the ball was over. He imagined there would be a scene when she discovered who he really was and he wanted that scene to be conducted in private.

      He finished his champagne and walked to her. ‘Good evening, bella,’ he said.

      She smiled to see him before her eyes narrowed a touch. ‘Hi, Valente... I see you’ve been given a non-uniform to wear too.’

      ‘My non-uniform does not look as good as yours,’ he replied evasively. His non-uniform had been hand-stitched by Milan’s finest tailor. ‘You look beautiful.’

      Her lightly golden cheeks flushed with colour and her lips pulled in before she said, ‘That’s kind of you to say. So, what do you think? Does the ballroom match Mr Basinas’s expectations?’

      He slowly turned around to take in everything anew and nodded.

      Gold, silver and white balloons hung from the high grand ceiling, matching heavy drapes lining the walls. The tables followed the same theme; ornately decorated and with centrepieces topped with feathers and miniature gold masks. The orchestra was on the stage, the musicians tuning their instruments, the champagne fountain already flowing.

      ‘Have you seen the other rooms?’ she asked.

      ‘I haven’t seen them finished. Show me.’

      She led the way, taking him through myriad other rooms adorned with the same decorations: the dining room, where a hot and cold buffet would be served throughout the night, and where a string quartet was tuning their instruments to entertain the diners; the cocktail lounge, filled with sofas and armchairs for those who wanted to catch their breath and listen to the music of a lounge pianist; the chocolate room, filled with edible creations hand-made in Switzerland and the disco room, which wouldn’t be opened until after the midnight fireworks, and would no doubt be filled with younger revellers wanting a break from waltzing to let their hair down to more familiar songs.

      It was hard to believe this had all been achieved in only six weeks.

      ‘You have done an incredible job,’ he told her as they walked back to the ballroom.

      ‘I can’t take the credit. It was a team effort, as you very well know.’ Beth would not allow her team’s achievements to be diminished. Eight members of her team had been camped in the palace for the past three weeks beavering away.

      ‘You directed it all. You pulled it together. This is your vision. Accept the plaudits and be proud of what you’ve achieved.’

      ‘I haven’t achieved anything yet,’ she reminded him. ‘As I said this morning, the proof of the pudding’s in the eating. Let’s wait to hear Mr Basinas’s and the guests’ feedback before getting carried away.’

      He opened his mouth but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the master of ceremonies approaching them.

      ‘Five minutes,’ he informed her gravely.

      Her stomach knotted. For a moment she feared she would be sick.

      Five minutes?

      ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured to Valente. ‘I need to get in position.’

      He cast her a look that made her belly melt.

      Her bones had melted just looking at him. She had not thought he could be more handsome but tonight, freshly shaved and dressed in a deep maroon, long-tailed dinner jacket the men had all been instructed to wear—colour and style optional—with matching trousers, black shirt and black bow-tie, he looked devastating.

      She hurried back into the ballroom to take her position by the champagne fountain. Moments later the orchestra played its first beat, the