Ким Лоренс – The Italians: Alessandro, Luca & Dizo: Alessandro's Prize / In a Storm of Scandal / Italian Groom, Princess Bride (страница 23)

His very presence was a threat to her peace of mind, and she crossed her arms over her midriff in a gesture of self-protection. ‘I’d prefer not to see you again.’

No sooner were the words out of her mouth before she realized the futility of them. Alessandro del Marco was as much Sophia’s son as if he bore the dalla Silvestri name.

He looked at her in silence for what seemed an age, and she had to consciously force herself to meet and hold his gaze.

‘Afraid, Lily?’

‘Of you? No.’ Myself, she owned silently, and for a moment she thought she caught a glimpse of humour in his dark gaze as he ventured softly,

‘You’re sure about that?’

She didn’t answer, couldn’t for a few heart-stopping seconds. ‘Yes.’

‘And you’d prefer me to leave.’

‘Please.’

He reached for his jacket and shrugged it on as she crossed the lounge to the front door.

‘Grazie, Lily. For a pleasant evening.’

He made no attempt to touch her, and she tamped down the contrary urge to feel his lips brush her own.

Which was crazy.

‘You’re welcome.’ The polite words were an automatic acknowledgment as she opened the door and stood aside for him to pass.

Then he was gone, and she locked up the apartment, doused the lights and went to bed.

CHAPTER NINE

CRISTO’S absence during the lunch shift meant Lily and Giovanni were required to share the work of three, and, although the kitchen staff co-ordinated as a team, there was the added pressure of ensuring there were minimum delays in plating up and serving orders.

Hectic didn’t cover it, and together they breathed a sigh of relief as the lunch shift drew towards an end.

‘We made it,’ Lily declared as she shared a high-five gesture with Giovanni. ‘Amy did well.’

‘Sì,’ he agreed. ‘Go take a break for an hour.’

‘Thanks.’

Some fresh air and a change of scene would be good, and she removed her apron, head cap, then she collected her shoulder bag and exited the restaurant.

Yoghurt, fruit and a salad roll, juice, and she collected a daily newspaper as she headed towards a small café where she made her purchases, selected a table, and settled in to skim through the daily news.

She flipped the top of her juice and took an appreciate sip, then unwrapped the salad roll.

‘Lily. Mind if I share?’

James? What was he doing here? ‘I have nothing to say to you.’ Civil, she could do civil, in spite of an initial reaction to pick up her food and leave.

He slid into a chair opposite and attempted to take hold of her hand, only to sigh as she instantly removed it out of his reach.

‘Can’t we at least try to resolve our break-up?’

She met his gaze squarely. ‘It is resolved. As in finito, finished, over. With not a hope in hell of reconciliation.’

He leant forward in an earnest attempt to redeem himself. ‘We shared a great life in Sydney. Surely you can accept I’ve—’

‘Realized the error of your ways, James?’

‘Yes. I swear.’

‘No.’

His expression hardened. ‘That’s your final word?’

‘Yes. Absolutely. Beyond doubt,’ Lily added with emphasis, in the hope he would finally get it.

He sat back in his chair. ‘Then you leave me no choice.’

She measured him carefully. ‘The only sensible choice you could make is to return to Australia.’

‘You’re going to pay, big time,’ he vowed with ill-disguised vengeance. ‘I’ve prepared a comprehensive list, waiting to be emailed to my lawyer to file suit to sue.’

‘Which no lawyer will touch, given you lived in my home, for which you failed to contribute so much as a cent.’

‘There’s breach of promise, loss of future benefits, expenses incurred, to name a few. I’m entitled to half your income for the time we were together, the loss of a home in which I expected to reside as your husband. Not to mention a comparable sum to compensate for my grief and heartache resulting in my inability to continue working.’

He really imagined he would succeed? When she had proof to negate any claim he made?

‘A cool two million should do it.’

He was out of his mind.

Don’t lose it, she bade silently. Anger on her part would only feed the fire.

Lily looked at James, the man she had once thought she loved and planned to marry, and wondered how she could have made such an error in judgment—been so wrong.

All along James had wanted her for what she had. A person with whom he could share a cruisy life, and enjoy sexual satiation outside the sanctity of his marriage.

What she’d thought was affection and love was merely an image she’d conjured that had little basis in reality. He’d played a part she’d believed to be genuine … and it hadn’t been. Their marriage, if she’d gone ahead with it, wouldn’t have lasted long. His indiscretions would eventually have come to light, and she’d have filed for divorce.

With enforced calm she stood, collected her shoulder bag, and fastened his truculent gaze with her own. ‘Good luck with that. Be aware I’ll counter sue,’ she added with deadly resolve.

If there was going to be a legal battle, then she’d need to be prepared. An email to her lawyer outlining James’s threatened intention would clarify legal right under Australian law.

The dinner shift was even more hectic, if that were possible, than lunch had been, and there was a sense of relief to finish up at evening’s end and drive home.

The apartment was silent, and she reset the security system, tossed her keys onto the table, followed them with her shoulder bag, and headed for the shower.

It was late, it had been a long day, and bed had rarely seemed more welcome. Yet she took her time, letting the hot water ease tired muscles before drying off and donning sleepwear.

Then she retrieved her laptop, logged on, checked emails, composed one to her lawyer, and pressed ‘Send'. With the differing time zones, he’d receive it during Sydney business hours and she’d have a response within twenty-four hours.

Surprisingly she slept well, and woke feeling refreshed. Perhaps it was because it was her day off, the knowledge James, now he’d shown his hand, would leave Milan, especially her, and life would return to normal.

A spur-of-the-moment decision to do some exploring on her own added enthusiasm to the day, and with the aid of a map she sorted out a picturesque route, ate a hasty breakfast, then she caught up her keys and took the lift down to the lobby.

It was cool … OK, cold, although the sky looked clear as she slid in behind the wheel of her car and began heading south west.

There was a yen to wander the Piazza della Vetra linking San Lorenzo to Sant’Eustorgio. She recalled her mother relaying historic events linked to the area, the beautiful churches, and she had the day, the time, and there was a sense of freedom in having no set plan, other than to return to her apartment by sunset.

Music emitted from a disc she slotted into the player, upbeat and mood-elevating, and she smiled, really smiled for the first time in a while.

There was a small trattoria where she pulled over and ordered lunch, lingered over a latte, then just as she was about to leave the insistent peal of her cell-phone caught her attention.

Alessandro appeared on caller ID, and she picked up. ‘Hi.’

She sounded happy, and he leaned back in his chair as he idly viewed the city skyscape. The terracotta roof tiles of aged buildings, the church domes, spires, and the gathering of clouds looming low.

He liked the sound of her voice, the light Australian intonation and lilt apparent. Yet she spoke Italian like a native.

‘I have tickets for tonight’s performance at the Teatro alla Scala.’ He named a time. ‘I’ll collect you.’

‘I haven’t said I’ll accept the invitation.’

‘Are you going to refuse?’