Latin Lovers: Italian Husbands: The Italian's Bought Bride / The Italian Playboy's Secret Son / The Italian Doctor's Perfect Family. Кейт Хьюит
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу Latin Lovers: Italian Husbands: The Italian's Bought Bride / The Italian Playboy's Secret Son / The Italian Doctor's Perfect Family - Кейт Хьюит страница 12

СКАЧАТЬ wouldn’t repay Matteo by neglecting his duty to his grandson. He wouldn’t let Allegra distract him in his purpose … or, if it came to it, have him distract her.

      His lips curved as he considered how many ways in which he could distract her …

      No. No, the past was over. Finished.

      Forgotten.

      It had to be.

      The music ended and they swayed to a stop before Stefano quite deliberately stepped away. It was time to tell Allegra the real reason why he was here … why he was dancing with her, or talking to her at all.

      Allegra felt Stefano’s arms fall away and resisted the urge to shiver. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her uncle glowering and she looked away.

      Stefano glanced around at the crowd of striving socialites and smiled. ‘This crowd isn’t really to my taste. What would you think about getting a drink some place more congenial?’

      Allegra felt a leap of both anticipation and alarm in her chest. ‘I don’t …’

      Stefano raised an eyebrow. ‘Care to finish that sentence?’ he asked dryly and Allegra realized she’d trailed off without knowing what to say. What to think.

      What to feel.

      ‘It’s late,’ she murmured, and wondered what she wanted Stefano to do. Take her reluctance as refusal or refuse to take no for an answer?

      It galled her that she didn’t know what she wanted him to do; she just wanted him to choose.

      ‘It’s not even ten o’clock yet,’ Stefano said. There was a lazy lilt to his voice that made Allegra feel as if a purring cat had just leapt on to her lap. She wanted to stroke it, test its softness. ‘One drink, Allegra. Then I’ll let you go.’

      ‘All right,’ she said, her voice cautious, yet with not nearly as much reluctance as she knew she should have.

      She wondered why she was reluctant, why she was afraid.

      They’d just shown how grown up and civil they could be. The past was truly forgotten.

      She wasn’t that girl any more.

      Stefano threaded her fingers with his own as he led her off the dance floor and away from the party.

      This was strange, Allegra told herself as Stefano handed her her coat. Yet it was nice too, she realized as they headed out into the night, the September air cool on her flushed cheeks.

      Too nice, perhaps.

      ‘Where to?’ Stefano stood on the kerb, an expensive woollen overcoat draped over one arm, his eyebrows raised in faint question.

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t know London nightspots very well.’

      ‘Nor do I. But I do know a quiet wine bar near here that can be quite relaxing. How does that sound?’

      ‘Fine. Lovely.’

      She didn’t see Stefano gesture to the doorman, but he must have for a cab pulled sleekly to a halt at the kerb. Stefano brushed the doorman aside and opened the car door himself, ushering Allegra in before he joined her.

      Their thighs touched as he slid next to her, and Stefano did not move away. Allegra wasn’t sure whether she liked the feel of his hard thigh pressing against hers or not, but she was certainly aware of it. Her hand curled around the door handle, nerves leaping to life.

      They rode in silence, and Allegra was glad. She didn’t feel up to making conversation.

      After a few minutes, the cab pulled to a halt in front of an elegantly fronted establishment in Mayfair and Stefano paid the driver before he helped Allegra out. His hand was warm and dry and Allegra forced herself to let go.

      She could not let herself be attracted to Stefano now. Not when she had a life, admittedly a small, humble one compared to his wealth and status, but one that was hers and hers alone.

      Not when she knew what he was like. What he believed. Tonight was about being friends. That was all.

      That was all it could be.

      The wine bar was panelled in dark wood, with low tables and comfortable armchairs scattered around. It was like entering someone’s study and Allegra could see immediately why Stefano liked it.

      ‘Shall I order a bottle of red?’ he asked, and Allegra bit her lip.

      ‘I think I’ve had enough wine already.’

      ‘What is an evening with friends without wine?’ He smiled. ‘Just drink a little if you prefer, but we must have a toast.’

      ‘All right.’ It did seem rather prim and stingy to sit sipping iced water.

      Stefano ordered and they were soon seated in two squashy armchairs. Allegra even kicked off her heels—her feet had been killing her—and tucked her legs up under her.

      ‘So,’ Stefano said, ‘I want to hear more about what you’ve been up to these last seven years.’

      Allegra laughed. ‘That’s a rather tall order.’

      He shrugged; she’d forgotten how wide his shoulders were, how much power and grace the simplest of movements revealed. ‘You’re an art therapist, you said. How did that come about?’

      ‘I took classes.’

      ‘When you arrived in London?’

      ‘Soon after.’

      The waiter came with the wine and they were both silent while he uncorked the bottle and poured. Stefano tasted it, smiled and indicated for the waiter to pour for Allegra.

      ‘Cin cin,’ he said, raising his glass in the old informal toast that reminded her of her childhood, and she smiled, raising her own.

      She drank, grateful for the rich liquid that coated her throat and burned in her belly. Despite Stefano’s easy manner, Allegra realized she was still feeling unsettled.

      Seeing him brought back more memories than she’d ever wanted to face. Memories and questions.

      She had chosen not to face them when she’d left. She’d quite deliberately put the memories in a box and unlike Pandora, she’d had no curiosity to open it. No desire for the accompanying emotions and fears to come tumbling out.

      When you didn’t face something, she knew, it became easier never to face it. It became quite wonderfully easy to simply ignore it. For ever.

      Yet now that something was staring her straight in the face, smiling blandly.

      Whatever Stefano had felt seven years ago, he’d clearly got over it. He’d put his ghosts, his demons to rest and had moved on.

      And so had she.

      Hadn’t she?

      Yes, СКАЧАТЬ