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

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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

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