Alessandro's Prize. Helen Bianchin
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Following the debacle with James, she wanted peace in her life, and a man of Alessandro del Marco’s calibre was the antithesis of calm.
Sophia regarded Alessandro with immense affection, the son she and Giuseppe had made their own in all but name.
It was likely any invitation Alessandro extended to Sophia would include Lily while she remained a guest in Sophia’s home.
So how difficult could it be?
The answer presented itself as the evening drew to a close, the guests departed, with Alessandro the last to leave.
‘Grazie, Sophia,’ he bade gently as he lowered his head and brushed his lips to each of her cheeks in turn before shifting to accord Lily a similar salutation.
Except in a bid for formality, she moved fractionally and to her utter embarrassment his lips touched her own … briefly, but it was enough to quicken her pulse.
Worse, she felt the insane desire to linger, to experience more.
For a moment her skin heated, and she took a hasty step backwards, misjudged the angle of her killer heels and clutched at his arm in an effort to maintain her balance.
Oh, hell. ‘I’m sorry.’ Had she said the words out loud? Hopefully not.
‘My dear,’ Sophia voiced with concern. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ Lily reassured, and knew it to be a lie.
Fine didn’t cover it, when her pulse raced to a quickened beat, and sensation quivered deep within.
What was with that?
She didn’t want to react emotionally to any man.
Especially not Alessandro del Marco.
Why, she didn’t even like him.
Wrong, a silent voice accorded with impish intent. You’re afraid of how he might make you feel.
Only a fool would travel that road.
Isn’t going to happen, she assured with conviction.
Not in this lifetime.
So why this uncanny feeling nothing about her visit to Milan would follow any preconceived plan?
CHAPTER TWO
THE day Sophia had tickets for fashion week dawned cold, with drizzly rain, and Lily chose black leggings, soft leather calf-high black boots, an elegant knit thigh-length black dress, and added a long deep red cashmere scarf for contrast and extra warmth.
After a few days in Lake Como, she was still experiencing the transition from a southern Australian autumn to the close of a chilly northern Italian winter.
‘Layers,’ Sophia had advised. ‘And pack an overnight bag with evening wear, for we will be attending one of the after-parties. Alessandro has insisted we stay overnight at his apartment to accommodate our shopping expedition tomorrow.’
Whoa. For a brief moment Lily vied between pleasure and mild apprehension.
The shopping expedition would prove delightful. But she had reservations about being a guest in Alessandro’s apartment.
Reservations she determinedly dismissed on the grounds Sophia would be a fellow guest, and the only time they’d come face to face with their host would be breakfast … if then, for inevitably he’d leave early to begin the business day in his city office.
It was a matter of convenience, the combination of what would inevitably become a late night, and Alessandro was practically family.
So get over it.
Consequently an overnight bag became something more as she chose elegant red evening trousers and matching blouson top, black designer stilettos and a black evening bag. Together with sleep trousers, a cotton sleep vest, toiletries, make-up, and she was good to go.
In Carlo’s capable hands the large Mercedes purred south from Sophia’s Lake Como villa to Milan, entering the age-old city where traffic was intense, and it appeared every driver vied for position … often with a combination of high risk and dubious skill.
‘Ah, we are almost there,’ Sophia enthused as the car slowed before turning into an entrance bay decked with carpet leading into the chosen venue.
Lily was unsure what to expect, but the sight of the paparazzi crowding in on each car as it arrived, the inevitable crush to determine who were the occupants, the brilliant flash bulbs popping, was incredible, and over the top.
‘Your bags will be waiting for you at Alessandro’s apartment,’ Carlo relayed as Sophia and Lily exited the car.
‘Grazie, Carlo,’ Sophia offered in thanks. ‘I’ll be in touch with a time for our return.’
To say the day was an experience to remember didn’t quite cut it, Lily mused as she became caught up with the sheer glamour, the personage of world-famous designers, the models and the Spring Collection fashions.
From avant-garde to almost bizarre, there were designs that were delightful, appealing and in a brilliant mesh of colours. Worn with professional panache by slender young models with sculptured hairstyles, perfect make-up, who held their heads high, eyes front, and rarely smiled.
Exquisitely aloof, Lily accorded, and couldn’t help wondering if there was pandemonium behind the scenes as egos clashed in discord.
Yet on the runway the presentation went like clockwork, there were envious nods from those in the audience who were contracted to record the day for numerous fashion magazines.
It was a privilege to be there, and Lily turned to Sophia as she offered a genuine thank you, accompanied by an impulsive fleeting kiss to her aunt’s cheek.
‘You are enjoying the day, cara?’
‘Very much.’
There were some familiar personages present, women who held high positions with prestigious fashion magazines. New York, Paris, London. Easily recognizable were a few members of royalty, and three actresses seated front-row centre.
Then the music changed, and her attention returned to the runway where a famed designer provided an awe-inspiring cavalcade that drew murmurs of appreciation.
It was as the last in a series of models disappeared backstage that Lily experienced a faint prickle of awareness settle at the back of her neck, and she glanced at Sophia in time to see Alessandro slip into a seat next to her aunt.
There was a brief moment when she caught his smile, managed an acknowledging nod in response, and attempted to dispel his powerful image without much success.
He was an advocate of fashion?
Perhaps