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СКАЧАТЬ 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 yet nothing felt professional or friendly about their relationship right now. All Allegra could feel right now was the burning brand of Stefano’s lips on hers, the hurt inside that she’d held back all these years, the girl inside who was still—still—crying out,

       Do you love me?

      She closed her eyes, willing the flood of feelings to recede.

      She hadn’t broken down for seven years and she wasn’t about to break down now.

      She wasn’t about to break down ever.

      She stiffened her shoulders, lifted her chin. Next to her, Antonia let out a raucous bird-like laugh as she chatted and flirted with the man on her other side.

      Allegra heard the murmur of conversation around her, knew no one was paying attention to her, and tried to relax. She stared down at her uneaten dessert, a custard flan in a golden pool of syrup, and felt her stomach roil and rebel.

      Relax.

      So Stefano had been married. It didn’t mean anything; it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

      And yet still … still. Still it mattered, still it meant something. She didn’t want to think what, couldn’t bear to analyse the feeling. Yet she already knew.

      Hurt. It was hurt.

      Allegra picked up her fork and took a bite of her dessert. It might as well have been cardboard for all she could taste; she was too preoccupied with this new awareness, this new hurt. Understanding and accepting it … and then dismissing it.

      Why was she hurt? Why did she let him get under her skin, into her heart now? Still?

      Always.

      Allegra shook her head in instinctive, desperate denial. No. She wasn’t that girl.

       Do you love me?

      She wasn’t; she knew what he was like, had known for years. He’d bought her, had bought her like an object, a thing. And, worse, he’d treated her like one.

      Not a treasure.

      Never a СКАЧАТЬ