Love conquers socialisation Part 1

Tiffany was the daughter of a merchant in Venice. A merchant of fine cloth that was once desired by all the citizens of the land, but with the recession, the increase in importing goods and China taking over the market; the merchant became far from wealthy. This meant that Tiffany and her sister had worked hard through their teens with part time jobs and anything to help their father out. In their younger years they had attended the best private schools because they were being groomed to be ladies of significance; before the finances went sour. The girls had been young at the time and close enough to each other to work through their change in class without too much psychological “damage”. They were strong characters, with excellent moral fibre and a perseverance and tenacity second to none. Their father was grateful for the real jewels their mother had blessed him with before she passed away after the difficult delivery of Isabella.

Daniel, however, was the son of one of the wealthiest politicians in Italy. He was the youngest of three brothers, by 8 years. After the eldest had absconded to America with an actress, and the middle son had come out of the closet as gay, Daniel became the apple of his parents' eye. The life of Daniel's family had been in the spotlight since his birth, not the least of which was the “exclusive” magazine cover photo-shoot his mother granted her favourite magazine (for a small fortune of a fee, of course) a month after Daniel’s birth. He was spoilt and hung around with only “the elite” of Italian society. He had been even more intensely groomed for greatness since his 13th birthday and his brother's transvestite debut for the top gay magazine in Italy.

Tiffany had grown up seeing all the paparazzi magazines that covered Daniel’s family. She had even acted in a play where she had been cast as “the future wife of the son of the greatest politician in the town”. Thinking back to that time, Tiffany would probably tell you that the play certainly did trigger off a typical young girl's romantic dream: “to be the love of the most eligible bachelor in Italy”. She had followed the magazines and newspapers closely right through her teens, and had even had a couple of posters of Daniel on her wall. The infatuation had persisted until her final year of studying fine art at the University of Venice. It was then that paparazzi journalists had printed in black and white what they had laid their hands on as a result of telephone hacking. It was a conversation between Daniel and his best friend; where Daniel said that he would never marry a girl who didn't have money; because he could never trust her to genuinely love him, that’s why he’d “dump” the woman he was with after he was “finished with her”. As a liberal university student, who was able to study thanks to a bursary that she had earned and managed to keep through sheer, exhaustive hard work, Tiffany took personal offence to the private conversation and duly ripped up all her previously treasured articles and posters.

Daniel studied politics and finance, by his father’s orders, at a few universities as he played with “transferring his credits”, but he really did more partying than studying. A highly intelligent man, he wasn't interested in the politics that he was told he had to study for "his future place in society". Instead he spent most of his time hanging out with bohemians and writing. He loved to write, that was his passion. He wrote in his journals, crafted poems, letters, stories and anything that struck him as needing to be captured in words. It took him 8 years to get through the degree funded by his “magazine exclusives”. He failed abysmally when he went in as a fundraiser for his father's political party. At the end of another revolting day of failure, a friend he had made in one of the dirtiest pubs in town, who had become his father's opponent's chief speechwriter, fell ill. The writer mesaged Daniel, saying he knew Daniel could help him out, would he write the speech? To spite his father and to provide his soul with some stimulation, Daniel jumped at the opportunity and ended up writing the speech that changed the stats of the voting public, which meant that the votes for his father’s party started to wane for the first time in two decades. Daniel kept quiet and kept writing. Three years later, his father's party lost its majority hold and became less than they had ever been before.

Meanwhile, Tiffany had completed her Honours and Masters and was invited on commission by a top designer in America to work for her for 3 years, exclusively decorating the mansions of the rich and famous with personalised fine art. Tiffany’s time there was incredible and she managed to pay for her sister’s tuition while her father forked out a small fortune for Isabella’s expensive wedding a year into Tiffany’s contract. By the end of her third year Tiffany was missing her home and family so much she decided it was time to return to Italy. Upon her arrival in the city she learned that her sister was going to the victory ball for the political party that would be employing her. Isabella was graduating as the top Master's political studies student of her class. On top of that Isabella’s divorce from her speechwriting husband had also just gone through the courts as citing “irreconcilable differences”, so she needed Tiffany to be her date and help her celebrate her new job and being rid of the man who spent all his time in dirty pubs, wallowing around being ‘sick’ and “depressed” because “the world is such an unfair place”. Isabella had never managed to figure out when or how he wrote all the speeches that he had written; nothing in them was anything like her lousy ex-husband.

With the tight and alight political circle gossip lines, the ex-husband knew his ex-wife would be at the victory ball, and on top of that, his hot ex-sister-in-law would be joining her in all her sexiness. He refused to be outdone and let them think he was as broken as he was over the divorce. He also decided it was high time that Daniel actually got to meet the men who had been presenting his speeches. So he invited Daniel along. Daniel had just had another major blow up with his Dad who blamed Daniel for his failure because Daniel had messed up as a junior fundraiser and marketer, which had meant his father’s drop in society status and the party’s loss of seats. Once again, to spite his father, and give the blasted paparazzi something else to scribble about him, he accepted the ex-husband's offer. He made sure he looked gorgeous and eligible for the cameras as he made his way to the function of the year.

The two men ended up arriving two cars in front of Isabella and Tiffany. The valet opened the doors for the guys, they exited and the car was removed. They stood there and the “depressed-divorced” writer told Daniel all about the two women about to get out of the next car. He told Daniel of their low social status and how they came from so little, that it was their loss to be separated from him and his family fortunes. Daniel began to smirk in defence and comradery with his pub buddy, waiting for the wenches to get out of the car that she had ‘won’ in the divorce settlement. As the door opened Tiffany got out. Daniel's jaw dropped and he became speechless. “What the hell?” was all that went through his mind as the most earthly version of Venus he had ever seen stepped onto the red carpet. The writer thumped him in the stomach, and Daniel closed his mouth. If he’d left it open any longer, he would've been mopping up his own drool. Tiffany was followed by Isabella, who was as exquisite as her sister, but didn't intoxicate him like Tiffany did. All Daniel could think from that point was: “How could he stuff up a marriage to a woman like that?”

Daniel tailed Tiffany for most of the evening, completely transfixed and unable to take his mind, body or heart off the fresh breeze that had just entered his life. He had a perfect view of her at dinner and when she caught him watching her, he gave his usual perfect suave, sexy they-always-fall-for-it smile, and she didn't even flinch. In fact, he could swear she almost went a whiter shade of pale nauseous. Was he losing his charm? He tried again later, ignoring the writer's continual requests for him to stay away from them and help him to show his ex that he was ‘wanted by loads of other women’. Daniel would hear none of it. Later he made sure he 'bumped into her' when she left the ladies. He ‘apologised’ and offered his hand to introduce himself. What did she do? She looked him up and down and said: "I know who you are, thanks," and walked off giving him the cold shoulder. Knowing his charm, knowing that he could easily win her with his wealth and manners, knowing it was just a matter of time, he then 'bumped into her' at the bar, and offered to buy her a drink, seeing as she already knew him. Her reply: "I can afford my own drinks, thanks," and the shoulder turned again. Daniel chuckled to himself; game on! He tapped her on the shoulder; she turned, and rolled her eyes at him: "Yes?"

"I was lying, I can't buy you a drink, would you buy me one?"

He could have sworn he saw a twinkle in those gorgeous sea green eyes, with a slight curve at the corners of those delicious lips.

"Sorry Danny, but I couldn't sleep at night if I knew I had contributed in anyway to a possible bout of drowning." Shoulder again.

He was mesmerised. The way she said his name. No-one called him Danny any more. It made him feel like an awkward 10 year old all over again. His mother was the only person in the world he allowed to call him Danny all those years ago; but she, this goddess, oh, she could say it every minute if she liked. Daniel shocked himself: ‘What the hell? What’s going on?’ This made him angry with himself. Changing himself and his rules for some broad who was obviously so full of herself that she didn't deserve to be standing next to him? What crap!

He spoke into the incredible smell emanating from the back of her ear and straight down every nerve–ending in his body. “I’ll leave now so I don’t drown in the ice you’re pouring on me sweetheart, just so you can sleep tonight.” He walked away with that to find his long-lost writer.

The writer was chatting up some blondes alongside the dance floor. As he stood next to the writer one of the blondes grabbed his arm and dragged him onto the floor. He usually did this drunk, which he hadn’t managed to become yet, but knew he didn't have to because his breeding had taken him to numerous dancing lessons thanks mostly to his dancing brother. If this woman wanted to dance, then he would show her how to dance; he had to vent his anger and frustration somehow. Four songs later Daniel had worked up a great sweat and was turning down marriage proposals from the blonde who was drunk enough to lead around the floor only with the firmest grip he’d ever had to use, just to keep her upright. As the fourth song ended he spun her in the direction of the back wall as a flare to end with, and then he froze as the blonde stumbled off “to the loo”. Tiffany was standing there staring at him, and she was all he could see. He didn't know what song it was. He didn't know what she was thinking; all he knew was that in that moment when their eyes locked, he experienced every emotion that exists on planet earth.