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this moment, she wanted to be treasured.
She slipped the earrings on and left her hair down, tumbling over her shoulders.
Then she went downstairs.
Stefano was already in the marble hallway, dressed in a tuxedo. He quite literally took her breath away as he turned to face her, his eyes glittering with honest admiration when he saw her.
‘You look stunning,’ he said, and there was nothing but simple sincerity in his voice. His eyes rested on her ears, the diamond teardrops sparkling against her skin, and he smiled, an intimate gesture that spoke more than any word.
Allegra realized she was smiling back, glowing as if she’d swallowed the sun. As if Stefano had handed it to her.
‘Thank you.’
He held out his hand and Allegra took it with only a second’s hesitation. She wasn’t going to let herself think too much. This was one evening, one evening only, and she planned to enjoy it.
They took a car to the St Regis Grand Hotel. As they pulled up to the hotel’s front, Allegra couldn’t help but be impressed by its ornate facade. They were in the heart of Rome, minutes from the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain, worldly, witty people moving, talking and laughing all around them along with the trill of mobile phones and the hum of mopeds.
And Allegra was a part of it. She felt a part of it.
The mid-September air was a balmy caress as they climbed the steps to the hotel. As they entered, Allegra was struck by the huge chandelier suspended glittering above them, the tinkling music from a grand piano, the marble columns and sumptuous carpets that almost caught her heels, all conspiring to create an overwhelming sense of luxury and privilege.
Stefano guided her into the Sala Ritz, yet another sumptuous room decorated with marble pillars soaring to a ceiling with hand-painted frescoes and possessing the same aura of accustomed wealth. Businessmen and their well appointed wives mingled among black-frocked waiters bearing trays of champagne.
Allegra saw the heads turn as Stefano moved through the room, one hand on the small of her back. She saw the eyes slide speculatively towards her, heard the silent questions.
She shook her hair back and smiled proudly. Possessively.
Stefano joined a small group of men and introduced Allegra to his associates.
‘Gentlemen, my friend, Allegra Avesti.’
My friend. Something she’d never been to him before. And she wondered now, distantly, if that was what she really was. If she could be that to Stefano. If she wanted to be.
Yet what other choice was there?
She watched surprise flicker across their faces as they heard the words my friend. A few jaws dropped, and Allegra wondered why they were so surprised.
Surely Stefano had come to business occasions with a woman before—a woman who was not a steady girlfriend or perhaps even a date.
Or was it something else? Unease prickled uncomfortably through her, up her spine and along her insides. Was it that he did come to these functions with a woman, a particular woman, and she was not that woman?
There was no time to consider such a question, or how it had made her feel, as she was soon swept up in the pre-dinner conversation, and took comfort in the innocuous chatter.
‘All right?’ Stefano murmured, his hand holding her elbow, and Allegra felt his breath graze her cheek, felt her whole body shiver at the touch and sound of him.
‘Yes,’ she murmured back, ‘I’m all right. Enjoying myself, actually.’
‘Good.’ There was a note of possessive satisfaction in his voice that should have alarmed her, should have reminded her that Stefano simply thought of her as an acquisition, and a recent one at that. Services purchased and rendered.
But she didn’t want to think, didn’t even want to feel, at least not too much. She just wanted to enjoy. So she smiled lightly and let Stefano guide her to the table.
Dinner was served and Allegra was seated next to Antonia Di Bona, a bony, sharp-faced woman in black crêpe. ‘Stefano’s kept you quiet,’ she remarked, her voice light yet no less catty.
Allegra swallowed and glanced at Stefano across three feet of white damask. He was intent on a conversation with a colleague and she turned to smile coolly at Antonia. ‘I’m just a friend.’
‘Are you?’ Antonia raised thin penciled-in eyebrows. ‘Stefano doesn’t have too many female friends.’
‘No?’ She felt a wave of relief flood through her although, coupled with it, was the needling awareness that Antonia knew something she didn’t and was savouring the moment when she would tell her.
They ate their first course without much more conversation, but then Antonia turned to her again and there was malicious intent in her mocking smile.
‘Have you known Stefano long, then?’
‘Long enough,’ Allegra replied carefully. Although there were probably few people who remembered or cared about her flight seven years ago, she knew they existed. How could they not, when their wedding had been fêted as the social event of the decade?
An event that had never happened. Allegra sought comfort in knowing that she’d called it all off early enough. No one would have gone to the church, no one would have known. She’d never asked her mother for details, how Stefano had responded when he’d been given her note, what he’d done or said.
She hadn’t wanted to know, and she still didn’t. The past, she reminded herself firmly, was forgotten.
‘Long enough,’ Antonia repeated. ‘I wonder how long that is.’ She leaned forward. ‘You don’t seem his type, you know. He prefers …’ she paused, her hard, dark eyes sweeping Allegra’s form with clear criticism ‘… more glamorous women. Do you go out with him very often?’ She raised her eyebrows, smiling sweetly.
‘No,’ Allegra said coolly. Her face burned from Antonia’s casual, cruel assessment, even though she told herself there was no reason to care. Antonia was simply one of those women who enjoyed taunting and tormenting other women. She wouldn’t be happy until she was the last one standing and everyone else bore the scratches from her three-inch fake talons. ‘I’m actually rather busy,’ Allegra said, ‘as is Stefano.’ She knew she should explain that she was associated with Stefano only in a professional capacity, but she somehow couldn’t form the words. Antonia probably wouldn’t believe her, anyway.
Antonia gave a humourless little chuckle. ‘Stefano is always busy. It’s how he’s become so rich.’ She raked Allegra once with her cold eyes, then, bored, clearly dismissing her, added almost as an afterthought, ‘It’s also why his marriage failed.’
CHAPTER SIX
ALLEGRA FELT AS if she’d frozen, as if the very air around her had turned to ice and snow. She closed her eyes, then opened them. Across the table, she saw Stefano’s gaze sweep over her, concern flickering across his features.
His marriage. He’d been married. Married, to someone else. Not to her, never to her. He’d loved someone else, had been with someone else, had said his vows to someone else.
Who?
She swallowed a sudden impulse to laugh, to laugh wildly and loudly until there was nothing left inside.
Why had he not told her? Where was his former wife?
Why was she so hurt?
A restive, rational part of her brain told her there was no reason to react this way, to feel this way. So Stefano had been married. True, he hadn’t mentioned it, but why should he?
Professional.
Friends.
And