almost primitive, and apparent to those who were sufficiently discerning to detect it.
As a young man in his mid-twenties, he’d fascinated her, stirring her imagination as she’d fantasized what it would feel like to have his mouth tutor her own. And more.
Had he known? Hopefully not.
A lot of water had passed beneath the bridge since then.
‘Do you have any immediate plans?’
Lily rapidly collected her thoughts as she met Alessandro’s dark gaze.
‘Other than enjoying Sophia’s hospitality?’
His faint smile held a glimmer of humour. ‘Yes.’
She ruminated a little. ‘I’d like to rent or lease a small apartment, and stay a while. Perhaps consider restaurant work.’
He studied her thoughtfully. ‘You’re serious about this?’
‘Yes.’ She had included her portfolio with just that thought in mind. A few months, more, even a year would provide a new perspective.
Change.
She’d ensured her financial assets in Australia were well protected. Who knew what life could hold?
Not marriage.
She was so over placing her trust in a man.
Alessandro indicated her empty glass. ‘What are you drinking?’
Lily met his steady gaze, and shook her head. ‘I’ll wait and have wine with dinner.’
‘A modest respect for alcohol, or a desire to be in control?’
She offered him a practised smile, and saw his eyes darken. ‘Both.’
He wondered what it would take to have her relax her guard, to laugh a little with genuine amusement. And contemplated why it seemed important that she should.
Sophia wanted to assist in healing Lily’s broken heart. For that reason alone, he would provide whatever Sophia considered necessary to ensure Lily’s sojourn in Milan was as pleasant as possible.
Dinner comprised impeccably presented courses served with an appropriate wine. The intimate dinner setting contrived to seat Lily opposite Alessandro, ensuring that every time she lifted her gaze he was in her direct line of vision.
It was a distraction she didn’t need, and during the main course she thought she caught his faint gleam of amusement … almost as if he knew his close proximity unsettled her.
Which it did. For there was something about him that had the effect of heightening her senses and awakening an awareness she neither coveted nor wanted.
There, no matter how hard she attempted to ignore it.
‘You will accompany Sophia next week.’
Lily gave her attention to the woman seated next to Alessandro. ‘Thank you,’ she managed with a polite smile. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ While silently wondering precisely what it was she had just agreed to look forward to.
‘Fashion week,’ Alessandro disclosed, almost as if he knew the passage of her thoughts. ‘Sophia has managed excellent seating.’
It was easy to show genuine pleasure, and she did, for she adored fashion. ‘How very kind of her.’
It was such a prestigious event, attended by fashionistas from all over the world. The crème de la crème of designers who engaged international models to display their labels, and there was much rivalry existent with behind-the-scenes drama … if one could believe reported gossip.
‘You have your own restaurant, I believe?’
A courteous question to maintain conversation, or merely politeness? Perhaps both, Lily allowed as she held the woman’s attention.
‘It originally belonged to my parents, and I spent time as a child in the kitchen, helping out, learning, and knew from an early age that I wanted to become a chef.’
Wonderful years, when knowledge of food, herbs and spices rolled off her tongue, and she could recite, unaided, the ingredients for most of the house specialties. How she loved to experiment, and reading recipe tomes became her pleasure.
‘You studied overseas?’
‘Initially Rome, then Paris.’
A time when life had helped fashion the young woman she had become. A connoisseur of food, and the skill to cook it to perfection. Equally fluent in French as she was in Italian as she boarded with families in both countries during her studies, learning from the professionals during class, while valuing age-old culinary tips and tricks from the women who shared recipes handed down from generation to generation. How a drop of this, a splash of that, the addition of a certain herb, could turn a simple sauce into an exquisite accompaniment.
A redolent aroma that begged a sample taste as it teased the nose with the promise of ambrosia.
‘Yet you returned to Australia,’ a fellow guest noted, and Lily returned her attention to the present.
‘My family was there,’ she relayed simply. ‘Friends. It was where I wanted to be.’
And Parisi, the upmarket Italian-style restaurant her parents had worked so hard to achieve the stellar success it rightly deserved.
Hers now, with subtle additions to the menu, extra touches to the table settings, and slight changes to the decor.
There was pride in maintaining the high standard of quality food, excellent service, while ensuring a relaxed and happy atmosphere, where regular guests were welcomed by name with every effort made to secure their preferred table.
She’d imagined her life was mapped out … a brilliant business in a field for which she had a genuine love; a man she believed loved her; a wedding to plan.
Only for James to prove himself unfaithful, untrustworthy, and not the man she’d thought him to be.
There had been times over the past weeks when she’d shuddered at how close she’d come to committing to a marriage that held the portent of heartbreak and disaster.
A lucky escape, yet while it still hurt to think her trust had been betrayed, most of her anger was directed against herself for failing to recognize the real James beneath his practiced façade.
‘And now you are here,’ a light feminine voice concluded, bringing Lily back to the present. ‘Sophia will adore having you join her on shopping excursions and ensure you enjoy the history that is Milan.’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’ She offered a smile that encompassed the guests seated opposite, and felt a start of surprise as she met Alessandro’s steady gaze.
It was crazy, but she had the distinct feeling he’d discerned the passage of her thoughts and it rankled, stirring something deep inside she refused to acknowledge.
