The Italians: Alessandro, Luca & Dizo

‘The table it is,’ Lily agreed gently. For, like her aunt, she associated food with family camaraderie, for it had been the one time of the day when they were all together … the closeness mattered, and the love.

Any further wine was declined as both men had to drive, and coffee was delayed as they sat informally at the table and exchanged anecdotes.

‘Do you remember, Lily,’ Sophia began, ‘when you visited with your parents? You were, I think, fourteen, or was it fifteen years old?’

Lily chuckled. ‘Please don’t. I had braces, wore my hair in a tail, I lived in jeans and bewailed the fact I would never be tall.’

‘I recall your mother endeavouring to persuade you to wear a dress.’

‘While I thought jeans made my legs seem longer, and therefore added the illusion of height.’

‘A cute teenager,’ Alessandro drawled, sparing her a gleaming look.

Cute? That was what he remembered? Better that, than the way she’d secretly fantasized, no, tell it how it was. drooled over the tall handsome young man with a wicked past, whose image invaded her dreams far too often.

Except that was more than ten years ago, and there had been a lot of changes in her life, some good, as she recalled time with her parents, her travels, success as a chef. And more recently, the not so good.

Lily turned towards Alessandro. ‘And what of your teenage years, Alessandro?’

His eyes held her own, dark obsidian and bearing an edge of mockery. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard how Giuseppe and Sophia took me into their home, their lives, and shaped me into the man I’ve become.’

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I have. But very little of your life before then.’

‘It’s something I share with very few people.’

‘That bad?’

Living hand to mouth, with no home to go to; learning to fight dirty in order to survive on the streets; being one step ahead of the polizia, constantly watching his back.

‘Sì.’

He bore the scars from the slashes he’d taken from knives; tattoos now removed by laser, and the few he’d kept as a reminder of a life he’d left long behind him.

‘I’ll make coffee,’ Lily ventured. ‘It’s becoming late, and Carlo and Sophia need to return to Como.’

It was a simple matter to grind the coffee beans and set up the coffee machine. She set out the requisite crockery on a tray while she waited for the machine to percolate. Then when it was done, she added the sugar bowl and took it to the table.

Soon Sophia, Carlo and Alessandro would leave, then she’d clean up and retire for the night.

Except it didn’t play out that way.

Alessandro stood at her side as Sophia bade them both an affectionate buona notte and preceded Carlo from the apartment.

‘I thought you might be leaving, too,’ Lily said as he closed the door and turned to face her.

‘When I’ve helped you clean up.’ He removed his jacket, deftly rolled back his shirtsleeves and moved towards the kitchen.

‘It’s not necessary.’ Her protest went unheeded, and she had little option but to follow him. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

Be honest, she didn’t want him there, invading her space, dominating the room. Worse, she definitely didn’t want to feel on edge and so acutely aware of him.

‘I’ll rinse, you stack the dishwasher,’ Alessandro said calmly, and proceeded to do just that.

‘This happens to be my kitchen …’

‘And you’d prefer I wasn’t in it,’ he said calmly, shooting her a perceptive look. ‘Let me know when you’ve worked out the reason why.’

With deliberate calm she took the rinsed goblets, the plates and cutlery and stacked them carefully. Clattering them noisily would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d ruffled her feathers.

When he was done he dried his hands and turned towards her, and she became trapped by the darkness in his eyes, the hint of something she didn’t want to explore as he lifted a hand and trailed light fingers down her cheek.

Her eyes flared momentarily before she attempted to mask them, and his own darkened as he cupped her face and touched his mouth to her own, tracing the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue.

He felt her stiffen, but didn’t stop, teasing gently as he sought her response, which she fought against giving, until her body betrayed her and she succumbed with a despairing groan.

It was a kiss like no other she’d experienced, and she recalled beating a helpless fist against his shoulder as he deepened the kiss into something more before gently releasing her, his hands holding her steady as she stood locked into immobility, wide-eyed with a mixture of shock, dismay and wonder, that she’d allowed him so close.

‘I think you should leave,’ Lily managed shakily, her eyes darkening as he brushed gentle fingers over the swollen curve of her lower lip.

‘If that’s what you want.’

Want? She daredn’t even consider what she wanted, because if she listened to the heat of desire, she’d lead him into the bedroom, tear off his clothes, her own, and indulge in wild wanton sex.

Except treading that path would only lead to disaster.

He watched as she reassembled her resolve … the way she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat; the telltale pulse slow its rapid beat; the tinge of pink colouring her cheeks.

‘Yes.’

He used his thumbs to soothe the curve of her shoulders, then slowly slid his hands down her arms before releasing her.

‘Your call.’

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.

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