Читать книгу The Italians: Alessandro, Luca & Dizo: Alessandro's Prize / In a Storm of Scandal / Italian Groom, Princess Bride - Ким Лоренс, Rebecca Winters - Страница 15

CRISTO’S absence during the lunch shift meant Lily and Giovanni were required to share the work of three, and, although the kitchen staff co-ordinated as a team, there was the added pressure of ensuring there were minimum delays in plating up and serving orders.

Hectic didn’t cover it, and together they breathed a sigh of relief as the lunch shift drew towards an end.

‘We made it,’ Lily declared as she shared a high-five gesture with Giovanni. ‘Amy did well.’

‘Sì,’ he agreed. ‘Go take a break for an hour.’

‘Thanks.’

Some fresh air and a change of scene would be good, and she removed her apron, head cap, then she collected her shoulder bag and exited the restaurant.

Yoghurt, fruit and a salad roll, juice, and she collected a daily newspaper as she headed towards a small café where she made her purchases, selected a table, and settled in to skim through the daily news.

She flipped the top of her juice and took an appreciate sip, then unwrapped the salad roll.

‘Lily. Mind if I share?’

James? What was he doing here? ‘I have nothing to say to you.’ Civil, she could do civil, in spite of an initial reaction to pick up her food and leave.

He slid into a chair opposite and attempted to take hold of her hand, only to sigh as she instantly removed it out of his reach.

‘Can’t we at least try to resolve our break-up?’

She met his gaze squarely. ‘It is resolved. As in finito, finished, over. With not a hope in hell of reconciliation.’

He leant forward in an earnest attempt to redeem himself. ‘We shared a great life in Sydney. Surely you can accept I’ve—’

‘Realized the error of your ways, James?’

‘Yes. I swear.’

‘No.’

His expression hardened. ‘That’s your final word?’

‘Yes. Absolutely. Beyond doubt,’ Lily added with emphasis, in the hope he would finally get it.

He sat back in his chair. ‘Then you leave me no choice.’

She measured him carefully. ‘The only sensible choice you could make is to return to Australia.’

‘You’re going to pay, big time,’ he vowed with ill-disguised vengeance. ‘I’ve prepared a comprehensive list, waiting to be emailed to my lawyer to file suit to sue.’

‘Which no lawyer will touch, given you lived in my home, for which you failed to contribute so much as a cent.’

‘There’s breach of promise, loss of future benefits, expenses incurred, to name a few. I’m entitled to half your income for the time we were together, the loss of a home in which I expected to reside as your husband. Not to mention a comparable sum to compensate for my grief and heartache resulting in my inability to continue working.’

He really imagined he would succeed? When she had proof to negate any claim he made?

‘A cool two million should do it.’

He was out of his mind.

Don’t lose it, she bade silently. Anger on her part would only feed the fire.

Lily looked at James, the man she had once thought she loved and planned to marry, and wondered how she could have made such an error in judgment—been so wrong.

All along James had wanted her for what she had. A person with whom he could share a cruisy life, and enjoy sexual satiation outside the sanctity of his marriage.

What she’d thought was affection and love was merely an image she’d conjured that had little basis in reality. He’d played a part she’d believed to be genuine … and it hadn’t been. Their marriage, if she’d gone ahead with it, wouldn’t have lasted long. His indiscretions would eventually have come to light, and she’d have filed for divorce.

With enforced calm she stood, collected her shoulder bag, and fastened his truculent gaze with her own. ‘Good luck with that. Be aware I’ll counter sue,’ she added with deadly resolve.

If there was going to be a legal battle, then she’d need to be prepared. An email to her lawyer outlining James’s threatened intention would clarify legal right under Australian law.

The dinner shift was even more hectic, if that were possible, than lunch had been, and there was a sense of relief to finish up at evening’s end and drive home.

The apartment was silent, and she reset the security system, tossed her keys onto the table, followed them with her shoulder bag, and headed for the shower.

It was late, it had been a long day, and bed had rarely seemed more welcome. Yet she took her time, letting the hot water ease tired muscles before drying off and donning sleepwear.

Then she retrieved her laptop, logged on, checked emails, composed one to her lawyer, and pressed ‘Send'. With the differing time zones, he’d receive it during Sydney business hours and she’d have a response within twenty-four hours.

Surprisingly she slept well, and woke feeling refreshed. Perhaps it was because it was her day off, the knowledge James, now he’d shown his hand, would leave Milan, especially her, and life would return to normal.

A spur-of-the-moment decision to do some exploring on her own added enthusiasm to the day, and with the aid of a map she sorted out a picturesque route, ate a hasty breakfast, then she caught up her keys and took the lift down to the lobby.

It was cool … OK, cold, although the sky looked clear as she slid in behind the wheel of her car and began heading south west.

There was a yen to wander the Piazza della Vetra linking San Lorenzo to Sant’Eustorgio. She recalled her mother relaying historic events linked to the area, the beautiful churches, and she had the day, the time, and there was a sense of freedom in having no set plan, other than to return to her apartment by sunset.

Music emitted from a disc she slotted into the player, upbeat and mood-elevating, and she smiled, really smiled for the first time in a while.

There was a small trattoria where she pulled over and ordered lunch, lingered over a latte, then just as she was about to leave the insistent peal of her cell-phone caught her attention.

Alessandro appeared on caller ID, and she picked up. ‘Hi.’

She sounded happy, and he leaned back in his chair as he idly viewed the city skyscape. The terracotta roof tiles of aged buildings, the church domes, spires, and the gathering of clouds looming low.

He liked the sound of her voice, the light Australian intonation and lilt apparent. Yet she spoke Italian like a native.

‘I have tickets for tonight’s performance at the Teatro alla Scala.’ He named a time. ‘I’ll collect you.’

‘I haven’t said I’ll accept the invitation.’

‘Are you going to refuse?’

La Scala? Are you joking? ‘La Scala is very appealing.’

‘Consequently you’ll suffer my company in order to enjoy opera,’ he drawled with a hint of humour, and heard her soft laughter.

‘Yes. But it’ll be a stretch.’

‘Such a gracious acceptance, Liliana.’

‘What would you have me say?’ It was easy to tease, easy to assume a slightly breathless tone. ‘Caro mio, grazie. I can’t wait to see you?’

‘That’s an improvement.’

‘Enjoy it while you can. Ciao.’

La Scala, she mused as she paid for her meal. Dress-up time. Thanks to her shopping expeditions with Sophia, she possessed a choice of suitable gowns to wear.

She adored opera, and bit back an oath that she hadn’t thought to ask which performance was scheduled.

Did it matter? Not in the least, and as she set the car in motion she punched up the volume a fraction, and sang in tune with the vocalist as the final track played out.

The day’s light was beginning to dim as she reached her apartment, and she made straight for the shower, shampooed and dried her hair, she donned a robe, checked the time, then padded out to the kitchen to cut up some fresh fruit to eat.

Alessandro hadn’t mentioned dinner, which indicated they’d probably go on somewhere afterwards.

Sophistication worked for any occasion, and Lily tended to her make-up, using a light touch with emphasis on her eyes and a red lip gloss. The gown in brilliant red complemented her fine textured skin, and she chose to leave her hair loose in a cascade of natural waves that fell just beneath her shoulders. A heart-shaped diamond pendant and matching ear-studs, together with a slim diamond bracelet completed her jewellery, and with minutes to spare she slid her feet into black killer heels, caught up a matching evening purse, keys, a slender wallet containing sufficient euros should she need them, and collected a black coat as the in-house phone rang.

She picked up, saw Alessandro’s features, and said, ‘On my way down.’

Attired in a black evening suit, white shirt and black bow tie, he projected an enviable aura of power. Strong masculine sculpted features with faint grooves slashing his cheeks, dark almost black eyes, a sensuously shaped mouth. dynamite.

‘Bella,’ he complimented gently as he cupped her shoulders and bestowed a fleeting kiss to her cheek.

‘Thank you,’ Lily acknowledged, and felt the familiar tightening deep inside at his smile. ‘I’m flattered I won out over the numerous names you have in your little black book.’

Alessandro curved an arm around her waist. ‘Remind me some time to tell you why.’

His subtle cologne teased her senses as he ushered her to the waiting car and saw her seated before he slipped in behind the wheel.

Traffic was heavy, and it took time to park and enter the Piazza della Scala and join the evening patrons seeking what many would consider to be the ultimate opera experience.

It was impossible not to feel a sense of awe, knowing how long the venue had stood, its history, the famous composers whose works had been sung by equally famous sopranos, contraltos and baritones over time. The costumes, the background scenery. The drama, the voices as the characters’ stories were revealed to the accompaniment of glorious music.

Beautiful, enthralling, exquisite … were the descriptive words that came to mind, and she said so during a break between acts.

For the duration, she had forgotten it was Alessandro who sat at her side, for in truth she lost sight of everything except what was happening on stage.

‘You are enjoying the evening.’

It was a statement, not a query, and her eyes shone with pleasure as she met his own. ‘How could I not?’ she answered simply.

He caught hold of her hand and threaded her fingers through his own. ‘Bene …’

Lily told herself the holding hands thing was just a friendly gesture, and tried to deny it felt … nice. A hint of strength in the warmth of his clasp, a sense of protectiveness, and for a while she made no attempt to disengage her hand. Only to have his fingers tighten a little when she did.

There was a sense of disappointment when the final act reached its conclusion and the lights came on, the inevitable crush of people as they lined up at the exits, and eventually the cool evening air as they reached the piazza.

‘There is a pleasant restaurant not far from here,’ Alessandro indicated the direction. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Yes,’ Lily said at once. ‘Ravenous.’

His husky laughter curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little. ‘Then we shall eat.’

There was a sense of intimacy in the way his arm curved along the back of her waist, and she wanted to deny that she liked the feel of it resting there a little too much.

Even in stiletto heels, her eyes were barely level with his black bow tie, and if she were to lean in against him, her head would fit into the curve of his shoulder.

Just for an instant she was strongly tempted to move closer, except that would provide a message she wasn’t ready to deliver.

The restaurant Alessandro chose was well patronized, and the greeting he received from the maître d’ was little less than obsequious as they were led to a quiet curved booth in one corner.

‘Bottled water, Pellegrino,’ Lily indicated when Alessandro suggested wine, and she ordered an entrée of risotto with sautéed mushrooms sprinkled with fresh parsley.

A light meal perfect for this late hour, although Alessandro selected a main course, and waived the wine.

There was a sense of … what? Friendship? More than that, Lily admitted. More than mere duty to the niece of a woman he held in such high regard. Slowly, steadily, he was invading her mind, stirring emotions she’d prefer were left dormant.

Yet there was something elusive simmering between them, a sense of inevitability … almost as if she were being gently led along a preordained path.

Leading where?

She didn’t want to be caught up, body and soul. His, irrevocably, but for how long? A few weeks, months maybe? Then what? A gentle distancing? A return to mere friendship? Acknowledging him on social occasions. Worse, so much worse would be seeing him with another woman and feeling totally torn apart.

‘You’re thinking too much.’

Lily lifted solemn eyes to meet his own, and offered, ‘It’s a female thing.’

‘Questions,’ he posed quietly, ‘to which you seek answers?’

He was far too perceptive, and she wasn’t comfortable with it. ‘I already know the answers.’

‘I’m sure you imagine you do.’

There was an inference apparent she was reluctant to explore.

‘It’s been a lovely evening. Thank you for inviting me to join you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ With that he signalled the waiter, paid the bill, adding a generous tip, and cast her a musing look. ‘Shall we leave?’

They walked to where he’d parked the car, and as soon as they became mobile he activated the CD player.

Verdi emitted from the speakers, and Lily leant back against the headrest and closed her eyes, lost to the music and a host of powerful images.

It was almost a disappointment when the car drew to a halt outside her apartment.

Alessandro released his seat belt, then her own and reached for her, ceasing whatever she had been about to say with the simple expediency of covering her mouth with his own.

No words, just action, as he teased and tasted the sweetness within, encouraging her response until she wound her arms around his neck and held on. Only to still as his hand slid to cup her breast.

The soft brush of his thumb over the sensitive peak brought a faint groan low in her throat as sensation arrowed deep inside.

For a moment she remained immobile, then sanity prevailed and she struggled to be free of him. Surprise and relief meshing together as he slowly eased back.

His eyes were almost black, their expression impossible to define as she instinctively used the flat of her hands against his chest to effect some leverage.

‘I … must go.’ Dear heaven. She collected her evening purse and reached blindly for the door-clasp. ‘Thanks,’ she managed as she opened the door and slid out as Alessandro offered,

‘Dormire bene.’

Sleep well.

As if she could manage that easily after losing herself in the intoxicating magic he managed to bestow. Without a word she carefully closed the car door, then she walked, when she was tempted to run, to the entrance, punched in the security code, and moved into the lobby the instant the external door released.

It was just a kiss, she assured as she rode the lift to the third floor.

A very good kiss, Lily reflected when she was safely ensconced in her apartment.

OK, amazing, she admitted as she lay awake coveting sleep.

What would it be like to …?

Don’t even go there.

It’s not going to happen.

‘What is it with this guy on table five?’

Lily looked up from plating an order and met Hannah’s exasperated expression. ‘Something wrong?’

‘He’s sent back his starter with a complaint about the prawns. Says they’re overcooked.’

Giovanni had prepared the prawns himself, and they were perfect. ‘I’ll plate up another starter.’ And she deftly did so, placing it ready for Hannah to serve.

Back it came, and this time Hannah rolled her eyes. ‘A touch too much dressing on the salad.’

Lily cast a disbelieving glance. ‘You have to be joking?’

‘Uh-huh. He has something going on, I swear.’

‘OK. This time serve the dressing separately so he can add it himself.’

Five minutes later Hannah returned and lifted her thumb in a positive gesture as she collected another order.

Hallelujah.

Lily really shouldn’t have celebrated quite so soon, and the fussy customer, as he was now referred to, returned his second course, this time with the complaint there was an abundance of sauce on the fettuccini.

Lily bit back an expressive oath, and set up another plate. Only to have it returned minutes later with the words, ‘Not enough sauce.’

A fresh plate went out, this time with the sauce in a separate bowl.

Hannah returned it with a thunderous expression, and Lily threw up her hands with a strongly muttered ‘What now?’

‘Tomato base a fraction too acidic.’ Hannah executed an expressive eye-roll.

Given it was Giovanni’s much-lauded recipe which no one ever faulted, it was obvious the customer was no longer picky, but out to cause trouble.

‘If you thought things couldn’t get worse … think again. Alessandro del Marco has just entered the restaurant.’

‘To dine?’

‘He’s talking with Giorgio.’

Why did she get the feeling the rest of the evening was going to take a downward spiral?

‘Request the guy at table five makes a different selection.’

Hannah breathed in deeply, then exhaled. ‘I’ll suggest the marinara. If he objects to that, I may accidentally on purpose ensure the contents of the plate end up on his lap.’

‘Oh, please,’ Lily vented very quietly. ‘Allow me the pleasure.’

Minutes later Hannah returned. ‘He’ll accept fettuccini marinara.’

Lily shot her a look that indicated more than mere words could convey. ‘Will he, indeed?’ She set it up, and spooned the portion of marinara sauce into a bowl. ‘Return that to Mr Fussy, with the chef’s compliments. And smile nicely.’

‘If I must.’ Hannah offered a questionable gesture. ‘OK, play nice. Got it.’

Lily did her best not to laugh as Hannah sailed out of the kitchen.

Faux humour that soon died when Hannah returned with the plate and bowl in hand. ‘I swear …’ Lily trailed with barely suppressed anger.

‘Hold it, sweetie. He wants to see the chef.’

Lily straightened. ‘Does he now?’ She took a fresh plate, added pasta, marinara sauce, and tilted her head.

‘You’re not going to …’ Hannah began in hushed disbelief as Lily began walking towards the kitchen door.

Lily looked back over one shoulder. ‘Watch me. Table five, you said?’

Smile, she bade silently. Play nice.

And she did, she even chanced a quick glance towards the table Alessandro occupied, until she saw precisely who occupied table five.

James.

Playing nice went out of the window, or door, in this instance.

‘Buona sera,’ Lily offered with such chilling politeness it was a wonder the contents of his glass didn’t instantly freeze. ‘I understand you have a complaint about your meal.’

He directed her a superior look. ‘Yes. I returned the starter several times, and I’m not at all happy with the fettuccini.’

‘I understand, sir. The waitress has relayed your comments.’ She extended the plate with its perfectly presented pasta. ‘A fresh batch of marinara sauce has been especially prepared for you. With the compliments of the management.’ She placed the plate onto the table just a little too close to the edge, and as she removed her hand her fingers accidentally tilted the plate’s rim, causing the contents to slide onto his lap.