The Italians: Alessandro, Luca & Dizo. Rebecca Winters

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and rested there for a few seemingly long minutes.

      Unbidden, he slid a hand to her nape, then slowly smoothed it down her back.

      She fitted so well, almost as if she was meant to be there, and he lowered his head to brush his lips to her temple, ignoring his instinct to put her in his car and take her home. to his home.

      Not an option, yet. And he experienced a measure of regret as she stepped away from him.

      Alessandro retrieved his wallet, extracted a card and handed it to her. ‘My cell-phone number. Any problems, call me. Understood?’

      ‘Thank you.’ Lily pocketed the card. ‘Goodnight, Alessandro.’

      He trailed light fingers down her cheek. ‘Drive carefully.’

      She inclined her head, and he watched as she crossed to her car, waiting until she disappeared from sight before easing away from the kerb.

      To pass Lily’s apartment building in order to reach his own involved little effort on his part, and he swung by, relieved to see she was safely indoors, with no sign of her ex-fiancé's hired car anywhere in sight.

      A text message to Sophia on his arrival home would ease her concern following James’s enquiry as to Lily’s whereabouts. Giorgio’s awareness of the situation was an added benefit.

      Lily spent a restless night as James’s pleading words and empty promises echoed in her mind. Not the least of which that he’d sought to lodge an appeal in person, given she had made in perfectly clear their relationship was dead and buried. How could he possibly imagine she might consider a reconciliation? Why would any woman in her right mind go ahead with a wedding on discovering her fiancé had been conducting a long-running affair behind her back?

       Please.

      Eventually she must have fallen asleep, for she woke as the dawn fingered through her bedroom shutters, and she rose, dressed, drank strong coffee, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, then she made the call to reassure Sophia and soothe her aunt’s concern.

      Alessandro in the guise of white knight wasn’t mentioned, while the need to change her cell-phone number to a private listing became paramount.

      Effecting the change involved a personal application, form-filling, presentation of required documentation, but eventually she was given a new number. Something she fitted in before and after her lunch shift at the restaurant.

      Her list of things to do completed, she arrived home, as she was beginning to regard the apartment, as the sun sat low in the sky, and just as she set her bag on the kitchen counter her cell-phone rang.

      Sophia … had to be, as her aunt was the only person to whom she’d given her new number.

      ‘Lily, I’m so pleased I caught you. Alessandro requests you call him in connection with arrangements to dine with Giarda and Massimo tomorrow evening. I believe you have his cell-phone number?’

      ‘I do.’

      ‘Ciao, darling. Be careful.’

      Of whom? Lily queried silently. James or Alessandro? A hollow laugh rose to the surface. Each man was equally dangerous. Just in a different way.

      Purchases unpacked, she retrieved her cell-phone and Alessandro’s card, then she dialled his number.

      He picked up on the fifth ring, his voice crisp as he intoned, ‘Del Marco.’

      ‘Lily,’ she reciprocated. ‘Sophia relayed a message for me to call you.’ She paused fractionally. ‘Is this a good time?’

      ‘If you count standing dripping wet and naked, having just stepped from the shower,’ Alessandro drawled.

      There was a second’s silence. ‘I’ll call back.’ Then she cut the connection, and released the pent-up breath caused by a vivid vision of his tall muscular frame sans clothes. Dripping wet.

      Not good for her heart rate. Or her equilibrium as heat pooled deep within causing provocative images she found unsettling. Very unsettling.

      So go do something, Lily chided, and she withdrew the vacuum cleaner from a storage cupboard. Cleaning was good. After which she’d shower, dress in comfortable clothes, prepare dinner, then she’d call back.

      An hour and a half went by before she picked up the phone and keyed in his number.

      ‘Lily.’

      Alessandro acknowledged with a hint of amusement, and his mouth curved as she queried drily, ‘You’re not in the middle of anything?’

      ‘At the moment.no.’

      ‘You wanted to contact me,’ she prompted.

      ‘Before we continue, give me your new number.’

      She did, and she checked each one as he repeated them.

      ‘I’ll collect you at seven thirty tomorrow evening. We’re meeting Giarda and Massimo at eight.’

      ‘I can meet you there.’

      ‘But you won’t.’ His voice assumed a depth that caused her stomach to execute a slow somersault. ‘How was your day?’

      ‘Busy.’

      ‘Very concise.’

      ‘You want detail? Cristo threw a hissy fit when his bechamel sauce curdled and he had to start over. The pan shifted on the gas hob and the flame burnt his finger. It was so not his day.’

      ‘James?’

      ‘I haven’t seen him.’

      Alessandro hoped it remained that way. Although he doubted Lily’s ex-fiancé would give up easily.

      ‘I suggest you be on your guard.’

      ‘I can protect myself, Alessandro.’

      Verbally, without doubt. But physically? Sophia’s concern for her niece’s safety had become his own. Instinct warned he had reason and he’d lived by instinct alone for too many years to consider ignoring it.

      ‘Seven thirty tomorrow evening, Lily,’ he reminded quietly.

      DECIDING what she should wear to dinner involved a mental selection and discard process throughout the day.

      There was a gorgeous jade silk chiffon gown with a fitted bodice and bias cut skirt that skimmed her slim curves, fashioned by a noted Australian designer, which she’d packed to bring to Milan, but had not as yet worn.

      A matching wrap added a finishing touch, and with her hair pinned in an upswept style, minimum jewellery, killer heels … decision made.

      It wasn’t a date, merely the first social engagement without Sophia’s presence,

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