Rebecca Winters - The Italians - Alessandro, Luca & Dizo - Alessandro's Prize / In a Storm of Scandal / Italian Groom, Princess Bride

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.

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