Alessandro stood tall, like a dark angel, for a few seconds before he crossed to her side and held out his hand.

‘Give me your key. I’ll see you indoors.’

Lily tilted her head and threw him a dark look. ‘It isn’t necessary.’

With slow deliberation he cradled her face and lowered his head to capture her mouth with his own, and for a moment Lily became helplessly caught up in the sensual magic of his touch. A soft groan rose in her throat as she wavered between kissing him back or attempting to move away … instinctively aware that she should take the latter action if she wanted to preserve her emotional sanity.

Except … he was good at this. Far too good.

A kiss … it was just a kiss.

Yet it became more—almost as if he was intent on staking a claim.

About the Author

HELEN BIANCHIN was born in New Zealand and travelled to Australia before marrying her Italian-born husband. After three years they moved, returned to New Zealand with their daughter, had two sons and then resettled in Australia. Encouraged by friends to recount anecdotes of her years as a tobacco sharefarmer’s wife living in an Italian community, Helen began setting words on paper and her first novel was published in 1975. An animal lover, she says her terrier and Persian cat regard her study as much theirs as hers.

ALESSANDRO’S

PRIZE

HELEN BIANCHIN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my husband, Danilo, and children Lucia, Angelo and Peter.

With sincere thanks for your encouragement and support through the years.

CHAPTER ONE

ALESSANDRO DEL MARCO eased the sleek black sports car to a halt in the parking bay reserved for guests adjacent to the magnificent villa built at the edge of Lake Como.

Owned by the late Giuseppe dalla Silvestri, the villa was now occupied by his widow, the elegant Sophia, whose efforts in the aid of children’s charities was legend.

It had been Giuseppe, Alessandro reflected, who had taken Alessandro in as a wild young teenager abandoned to the streets of Milan by unfit parents. A boy who, by a combination of street smarts and cunning had managed to evade the government system, and who had quickly learnt to fend for himself among others of his kind.

Giuseppe had earned the teenager’s reluctant trust, fashioned his edgy talent with electronics from illegal to legal dealings, ensured completion of his education, and then employed him and taught and honed his business skills. Then, when he had been ready, he had backed him financially into his own electronics firm.

A consortium now known as Del Marco Industries. A successful empire, which afforded Alessandro a luxurious villa in the hills overlooking Lake Como, an apartment in Milan, real estate in several major capitals around the world, a private jet, and a small fleet of expensive cars.

Then there were the women …plural. Beautiful, captivating women who sought his company, his bed … in return for the social status associated with the man he had become.

None of whom succeeded in extending anything other than a temporary relationship lasting mere weeks, a few months at most, despite their various ploys to hold his attention.

Had he become jaded? Perhaps. Never bored, but a little tired of the feminine gender who tried so hard to please, acting out a part they imagined he sought. Beautiful, engaging arm candy, socially acceptable, intelligent, visually perfect … and merely players on the stage of life.

His youth had hardened him, created a wariness in order to deal with the ugliness of surviving on the streets. To be constantly on watch for an ill-intentioned demand and recognize if the hand in a pocket held a knife, a knuckle-duster about to maim, or merely coins.

To fight, and win by any means.

It had been Giuseppe who had patiently gifted his business acumen and time, but Sophia who had taught Alessandro social skills, guided and chided him with genuine affection.

During the initial few years, when in his late teens, any lingering doubts regarding his worthiness in an elevated society were very thoroughly dispensed with by the two people who had chosen to take him beneath their wing.

You are a young man among men, equal in every aspect that matters, Giuseppe had counselled. Never forget where you came from … then measure the success you have achieved by your efforts.

He owed them, despite their denial. Giuseppe had become the father he never knew. And Sophia—well, for her he would do anything she asked of him.

Such as this evening’s dinner invitation to join a few guests to welcome Sophia’s niece and god-daughter, Lily Parisi, from Sydney, Australia. A young woman he’d met many years ago as a teenager when she’d visited Sophia and Giuseppe with her parents.

A solemn girl with beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes and dark hair confined in a single plait. Who even at such a young age appeared delightfully unaware of the captivating quality of her smile or her zest for life.

She had changed, of course. He’d seen photographic evidence of those changes, had the essence of some of her correspondence relayed to him over the ensuing years. He had learnt of her parents’ accidental death, Lily’s success in taking over the Parisi family restaurant, her engagement. only to be privy to Sophia’s distress when she received news that the impending marriage had been abandoned mere weeks before the wedding was due to take place.

Sophia, empathetic and sympathetic, had extended an invitation to Lily to visit indefinitely … an offer that had been graciously accepted.

Family held priority in life, Sophia insisted, perhaps understandably more so, given Sophia and Giuseppe had been unable to have children of their own.

Alessandro slid out from behind the wheel, engaged the locking mechanism, then took a moment to breathe in the crisp late February evening air. A time of year that held the unpredictability of a lingering winter and the soft elusive hint of spring.

The dark night sky was heavy with the threat of rain, and he turned up the collar of his coat as he crossed towards the impressive well-lit front entrance with its double ornately carved wooden doors.

Doors that swung open within seconds of ringing the bell to reveal Carlo, Sophia’s factotum, whose features held genuine pleasure.

‘Alessandro. It is good to see you.’

‘Grazie, Carlo.’

Both tall men in their late thirties, they went back a long way—years in fact—and shared a common history, to a degree. Sufficient enough to warrant a brief, but genuine male hand-clasp.

‘Sophia?’

‘Happy to have her god-daughter here.’

Words that conveyed much. For both men shared a silent bond to protect the one woman who had stood up to the plate for each of them. In their book, nothing, no one, could harm so much as a hair on her head without consequence.

Giuseppe had been a very successful businessman, whose villa bore discreet witness of his wealth. Beautifully patterned marble floors hosted an expansive foyer with exquisite furniture, a crystal chandelier whose prisms of sparkling light provided a spectacular setting for the double staircase curving to the upper floor.

A place Alessandro had been privileged to call home for the few years it had taken to conclude his schooling and later, during his university breaks. The sanctuary that, thanks to Giuseppe and Sophia, had offered him the opportunity to make something of his life.

‘Alessandro.’

He turned at the sound of Sophia’s voice, and he moved to greet her, settling his hands on her shoulders as he brushed his lips lightly to first one cheek, then the other before releasing her.

‘You are well?’ he queried gently, and received her smile in response.

‘Of course, caro. It is good of you to join us.’

He lifted an eyebrow in musing query. ‘You imagine I would refuse?’

Her answering smile brought one of his own. ‘No.’ She tucked an arm through his own. ‘Come and meet the guests.’

Familiar faces of a select few, six in all, Alessandro perceived, as he acknowledged each and every one as Sophia drew him toward a slender petite young woman with sable hair styled in a classic knot, deep brown eyes and honey-gold skin.

Attractive, rather than classically beautiful, and possessed of a quality that set her apart. For there was a quiet strength apparent, a sense of self-preservation he recognized and admired.

‘Lily.’ Alessandro regarded her thoughtfully for a few seconds as he took her hand in his, glimpsed the unbidden flair of awareness evident as he leant forward to brush his lips to one cheek, then the other, and he caught the momentary tension before she swiftly recovered.

‘Alessandro.’ Her acknowledgment was accompanied by a polite smile as he released her hand.

In control, he perceived … and wondered idly what it would take to break it. Only to immediately dismiss the thought. Lily was Sophia’s niece … god-daughter, and family.

Yet something about her resonated with him, and he was inclined to discover why. The stirring of sensual chemistry together with the temptation to taste her generous mouth intrigued him.

‘You are enjoying your stay with Sophia?’ More than polite conversation, he mused, surprised to discover he was genuinely interested in her response.

A subtle perfume teased his senses … light, with a faint hint of warmth, woodsy, slightly floral with a tinge of musk, and something else he failed to define. Different from the more exotic fragrances favoured by many of his feminine companions. He wondered if she was aware it invited a closer examination, followed by the unbidden inclination to discover if the perfume was merely spritzed to various pulsepoints, or applied as a lotion smoothed over her body.

‘My aunt is very kind.’

‘Sophia’s generosity is well known.’ Hence the instinctive protectiveness of those who had Sophia’s interests at heart. ‘Your visit will give her much pleasure.’

Her mouth curved into a faint smile, and he found himself being fascinated by the slight dimple at the edge of her cheek.

‘Please don’t feel obligated to engage me in polite conversation,’ she offered quietly.

His eyes sharpened a little. ‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’

Her chin lifted fractionally. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘I wonder why I find it difficult to believe you.’

One eyebrow slanted as he regarded her thoughtfully. ‘A lack of confidence in your personal charm?’

Oh, yes, that would do it. Except Lily refused to allow herself the indulgence.

Three days ago she’d arrived in Milan. A city where her late parents had been raised, educated, and had married before emigrating to Australia with their six-month-old daughter, Liliana—or Lily, as she was affectionately known—to begin a new life in Sydney.

An idyllic childhood, a good education—Lily had excelled in every area of her life, qualifying as a chef and becoming a partner in her parents’ restaurant. But then her parents’ death three years ago in a car accident had left her suddenly in charge of the restaurant, an enviable inheritance, and one she had lived up to with the support of a few long-term friends.

A year ago she’d fallen in love, accepted James’s ring, and had begun planning the big day. Only to return home early two weeks before their wedding to discover James in bed with a blonde, with whom, when pressed, he admitted he’d been conducting an affair for some months.

Lily had immediately thrown him out, despatched his clothes after him, returned his ring by courier, and promptly telephoned Sophia, her late mother’s sister, to relay the wedding was cancelled. An invitation to visit had followed, and it had taken Lily only a few weeks to appoint a valued staff member to manage the restaurant, lease out the family home, store her car, and board a flight to Milan where she was duly met and driven to Sophia’s beautiful Lake Como villa.

A delightful sanctuary, which offered tranquillity and the loving attention of a deeply caring aunt.

Three days in, Sophia had arranged a dinner for a few valued friends … a few of whom Lily remembered from a previous visit with her parents.

Including Alessandro del Marco.

It had been ten years since she’d last seen him in person … years that had shaped them both. For she was no longer a vulnerable young girl in her mid-teens, dazzled by the tall dark-haired young man whose almost black eyes held a dramatic mesh of blatant sensuality and elemental ruthlessness born from surviving on the streets for much of his youth.

There was a hardness apparent that reminded her of tempered steel, an edgy quality successfully masked beneath the cloak of sophistication—unyielding, almost primitive, and apparent to those who were sufficiently discerning to detect it.

As a young man in his mid-twenties, he’d fascinated her, stirring her imagination as she’d fantasized what it would feel like to have his mouth tutor her own. And more.

Had he known? Hopefully not.

A lot of water had passed beneath the bridge since then.

‘Do you have any immediate plans?’

Lily rapidly collected her thoughts as she met Alessandro’s dark gaze.

‘Other than enjoying Sophia’s hospitality?’

His faint smile held a glimmer of humour. ‘Yes.’

She ruminated a little. ‘I’d like to rent or lease a small apartment, and stay a while. Perhaps consider restaurant work.’

He studied her thoughtfully. ‘You’re serious about this?’

‘Yes.’ She had included her portfolio with just that thought in mind. A few months, more, even a year would provide a new perspective.

Change.

She’d ensured her financial assets in Australia were well protected. Who knew what life could hold?

Not marriage.

She was so over placing her trust in a man.

Alessandro indicated her empty glass. ‘What are you drinking?’

Lily met his steady gaze, and shook her head. ‘I’ll wait and have wine with dinner.’

‘A modest respect for alcohol, or a desire to be in control?’

She offered him a practised smile, and saw his eyes darken. ‘Both.’

He wondered what it would take to have her relax her guard, to laugh a little with genuine amusement. And contemplated why it seemed important that she should.

Sophia wanted to assist in healing Lily’s broken heart. For that reason alone, he would provide whatever Sophia considered necessary to ensure Lily’s sojourn in Milan was as pleasant as possible.

Dinner comprised impeccably presented courses served with an appropriate wine. The intimate dinner setting contrived to seat Lily opposite Alessandro, ensuring that every time she lifted her gaze he was in her direct line of vision.

It was a distraction she didn’t need, and during the main course she thought she caught his faint gleam of amusement … almost as if he knew his close proximity unsettled her.

Which it did. For there was something about him that had the effect of heightening her senses and awakening an awareness she neither coveted nor wanted.

There, no matter how hard she attempted to ignore it.

‘You will accompany Sophia next week.’

Lily gave her attention to the woman seated next to Alessandro. ‘Thank you,’ she managed with a polite smile. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ While silently wondering precisely what it was she had just agreed to look forward to.

‘Fashion week,’ Alessandro disclosed, almost as if he knew the passage of her thoughts. ‘Sophia has managed excellent seating.’

It was easy to show genuine pleasure, and she did, for she adored fashion. ‘How very kind of her.’

It was such a prestigious event, attended by fashionistas from all over the world. The crème de la crème of designers who engaged international models to display their labels, and there was much rivalry existent with behind-the-scenes drama … if one could believe reported gossip.

‘You have your own restaurant, I believe?’

A courteous question to maintain conversation, or merely politeness? Perhaps both, Lily allowed as she held the woman’s attention.

‘It originally belonged to my parents, and I spent time as a child in the kitchen, helping out, learning, and knew from an early age that I wanted to become a chef.’

Wonderful years, when knowledge of food, herbs and spices rolled off her tongue, and she could recite, unaided, the ingredients for most of the house specialties. How she loved to experiment, and reading recipe tomes became her pleasure.

‘You studied overseas?’

‘Initially Rome, then Paris.’

A time when life had helped fashion the young woman she had become. A connoisseur of food, and the skill to cook it to perfection. Equally fluent in French as she was in Italian as she boarded with families in both countries during her studies, learning from the professionals during class, while valuing age-old culinary tips and tricks from the women who shared recipes handed down from generation to generation. How a drop of this, a splash of that, the addition of a certain herb, could turn a simple sauce into an exquisite accompaniment.

A redolent aroma that begged a sample taste as it teased the nose with the promise of ambrosia.

‘Yet you returned to Australia,’ a fellow guest noted, and Lily returned her attention to the present.

‘My family was there,’ she relayed simply. ‘Friends. It was where I wanted to be.’

And Parisi, the upmarket Italian-style restaurant her parents had worked so hard to achieve the stellar success it rightly deserved.

Hers now, with subtle additions to the menu, extra touches to the table settings, and slight changes to the decor.

There was pride in maintaining the high standard of quality food, excellent service, while ensuring a relaxed and happy atmosphere, where regular guests were welcomed by name with every effort made to secure their preferred table.

She’d imagined her life was mapped out … a brilliant business in a field for which she had a genuine love; a man she believed loved her; a wedding to plan.

Only for James to prove himself unfaithful, untrustworthy, and not the man she’d thought him to be.

There had been times over the past weeks when she’d shuddered at how close she’d come to committing to a marriage that held the portent of heartbreak and disaster.

A lucky escape, yet while it still hurt to think her trust had been betrayed, most of her anger was directed against herself for failing to recognize the real James beneath his practiced façade.

‘And now you are here,’ a light feminine voice concluded, bringing Lily back to the present. ‘Sophia will adore having you join her on shopping excursions and ensure you enjoy the history that is Milan.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’ She offered a smile that encompassed the guests seated opposite, and felt a start of surprise as she met Alessandro’s steady gaze.

It was crazy, but she had the distinct feeling he’d discerned the passage of her thoughts and it rankled, stirring something deep inside she refused to acknowledge.

To be so conscious of him was unsettling, for it made her feel uncomfortable, almost vulnerable, and she dismissed it, him, as she conversed with the guests.

Following the debacle with James, she wanted peace in her life, and a man of Alessandro del Marco’s calibre was the antithesis of calm.

Sophia regarded Alessandro with immense affection, the son she and Giuseppe had made their own in all but name.

It was likely any invitation Alessandro extended to Sophia would include Lily while she remained a guest in Sophia’s home.

So how difficult could it be?

The answer presented itself as the evening drew to a close, the guests departed, with Alessandro the last to leave.

‘Grazie, Sophia,’ he bade gently as he lowered his head and brushed his lips to each of her cheeks in turn before shifting to accord Lily a similar salutation.

Except in a bid for formality, she moved fractionally and to her utter embarrassment his lips touched her own … briefly, but it was enough to quicken her pulse.

Worse, she felt the insane desire to linger, to experience more.

For a moment her skin heated, and she took a hasty step backwards, misjudged the angle of her killer heels and clutched at his arm in an effort to maintain her balance.

Oh, hell. ‘I’m sorry.’ Had she said the words out loud? Hopefully not.

‘My dear,’ Sophia voiced with concern. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Lily reassured, and knew it to be a lie.

Fine didn’t cover it, when her pulse raced to a quickened beat, and sensation quivered deep within.

What was with that?

She didn’t want to react emotionally to any man.

Especially not Alessandro del Marco.

Why, she didn’t even like him.

Wrong, a silent voice accorded with impish intent. You’re afraid of how he might make you feel.

Only a fool would travel that road.

Isn’t going to happen, she assured with conviction.

Not in this lifetime.

So why this uncanny feeling nothing about her visit to Milan would follow any preconceived plan?

CHAPTER TWO

THE day Sophia had tickets for fashion week dawned cold, with drizzly rain, and Lily chose black leggings, soft leather calf-high black boots, an elegant knit thigh-length black dress, and added a long deep red cashmere scarf for contrast and extra warmth.

After a few days in Lake Como, she was still experiencing the transition from a southern Australian autumn to the close of a chilly northern Italian winter.

‘Layers,’ Sophia had advised. ‘And pack an overnight bag with evening wear, for we will be attending one of the after-parties. Alessandro has insisted we stay overnight at his apartment to accommodate our shopping expedition tomorrow.’

Whoa. For a brief moment Lily vied between pleasure and mild apprehension.

The shopping expedition would prove delightful. But she had reservations about being a guest in Alessandro’s apartment.

Reservations she determinedly dismissed on the grounds Sophia would be a fellow guest, and the only time they’d come face to face with their host would be breakfast … if then, for inevitably he’d leave early to begin the business day in his city office.

It was a matter of convenience, the combination of what would inevitably become a late night, and Alessandro was practically family.

So get over it.

Consequently an overnight bag became something more as she chose elegant red evening trousers and matching blouson top, black designer stilettos and a black evening bag. Together with sleep trousers, a cotton sleep vest, toiletries, make-up, and she was good to go.

In Carlo’s capable hands the large Mercedes purred south from Sophia’s Lake Como villa to Milan, entering the age-old city where traffic was intense, and it appeared every driver vied for position … often with a combination of high risk and dubious skill.

‘Ah, we are almost there,’ Sophia enthused as the car slowed before turning into an entrance bay decked with carpet leading into the chosen venue.

Lily was unsure what to expect, but the sight of the paparazzi crowding in on each car as it arrived, the inevitable crush to determine who were the occupants, the brilliant flash bulbs popping, was incredible, and over the top.

‘Your bags will be waiting for you at Alessandro’s apartment,’ Carlo relayed as Sophia and Lily exited the car.

‘Grazie, Carlo,’ Sophia offered in thanks. ‘I’ll be in touch with a time for our return.’

To say the day was an experience to remember didn’t quite cut it, Lily mused as she became caught up with the sheer glamour, the personage of world-famous designers, the models and the Spring Collection fashions.

From avant-garde to almost bizarre, there were designs that were delightful, appealing and in a brilliant mesh of colours. Worn with professional panache by slender young models with sculptured hairstyles, perfect make-up, who held their heads high, eyes front, and rarely smiled.

Exquisitely aloof, Lily accorded, and couldn’t help wondering if there was pandemonium behind the scenes as egos clashed in discord.

Yet on the runway the presentation went like clockwork, there were envious nods from those in the audience who were contracted to record the day for numerous fashion magazines.

It was a privilege to be there, and Lily turned to Sophia as she offered a genuine thank you, accompanied by an impulsive fleeting kiss to her aunt’s cheek.

‘You are enjoying the day, cara?’

‘Very much.’

There were some familiar personages present, women who held high positions with prestigious fashion magazines. New York, Paris, London. Easily recognizable were a few members of royalty, and three actresses seated front-row centre.

Then the music changed, and her attention returned to the runway where a famed designer provided an awe-inspiring cavalcade that drew murmurs of appreciation.

It was as the last in a series of models disappeared backstage that Lily experienced a faint prickle of awareness settle at the back of her neck, and she glanced at Sophia in time to see Alessandro slip into a seat next to her aunt.

There was a brief moment when she caught his smile, managed an acknowledging nod in response, and attempted to dispel his powerful image without much success.

He was an advocate of fashion?

Perhaps he was deciding to gift a designer original to his current mistress?

As if it were any concern of hers …

So why the sudden shaft of … what? Disappointment?

How crazy was that? She didn’t even particularly like him. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He aroused thoughts she didn’t want to entertain with any man … especially him. So why this increased sense of awareness? Almost as if her body was at total variance with her mind.

Get with the programme, for heaven’s sake, she silently bade as she focused her attention on the runway.

Sky-high heels, platform soles, boots—ankle, mid-calf and mid-thigh. Sandals with straps winding up to mid-calf. Fascinating, thrilling … out of this world. And mostly impractical for everyday wear.

‘I can almost feel my feet wincing in sympathy,’ Sophia offered quietly, and Lily bit back a light chuckle.

‘I suggest we leave soon,’ Alessandro indicated. ‘We’ll have dinner, then return to my apartment to change in time to attend the after party at the hotel.’

‘An excellent idea,’ Sophia agreed, while Lily hid a degree of surprise.

Not to mention the faint onset of nerves. Crazy, she dismissed. Except she didn’t want to experience the slight edginess his presence generated. Or the feeling he saw more than she felt comfortable with. For it was almost as if he could divine her mind … aware of the complexity of her thought process.

None of which sat well as she faced the evening in his company. Except what other choice did she have?

Alessandro chose an elegant restaurant full of belle epoque charm, which offered high quality fare Lily noted as she perused the menu.

Instead of a main, she selected an exquisite pasta dish as an entree and opted for a light fruit confection for dessert.

Intimate table seating ensured she was aware of the subtle tones of his exclusive cologne, the clean smell of fresh linen … dammit, him … the masculinity he exuded with effortless ease, the sensual electricity apparent and a heightened sexuality that was intensely male.

Dangerous to her peace of mind, and other more intimate parts of her body.

How could she feel this way … now, when a matter of

weeks ago she had been planning her own wedding to someone else?

It didn’t make sense. Nor did it seem conceivable for the teenage crush she’d once had on Alessandro to linger in her subconscious mind for years, only to re-emerge with disturbing clarity when confronted with his presence.

Get over it, Lily bade silently.

Her own vulnerability, a combination of anger and hurt provided a simple explanation … one she chose to accept on the grounds that anything else defied analysis.

‘Busy day, caro?’ Sophia queried, and Lily saw a warm smile curve Alessandro’s generous mouth.

Doubtless wheeling and dealing multimillion-dollar takeovers formed part of his everyday life, Lily accorded silently.

‘You were successful in acquiring the villa,’ Sophia stated, and paused to take a sip of her wine before replacing the goblet on the table. ‘It is charming, but in a sad state of disrepair.’

‘But structurally sound,’ Alessandro advised. ‘I have a team of experienced craftsmen on standby to begin work as soon as the plans are approved.’

‘A valuable investment,’ Sophia concluded.

‘An interest and a challenge,’ Lily offered.

His dark eyes captured her own. ‘Much like a woman,’ he said smoothly, and glimpsed the momentary uncertainty before she quickly covered it with a degree of humour.

‘Achieve the necessary work to reach your goal.’ She paused imperceptibly. ‘Then move on to the next challenge.’

‘Inevitably with bricks and mortar,’ he drawled, pinning her with his dark gaze. ‘But not always with a woman.’

Why did she get the sudden impression she was verging into dangerous waters? ‘Yet you have not taken the plunge into marriage.’

‘Are you concerned for my marital comfort?’

Oh, my. Erotic images momentarily filled her mind before she successfully dismissed them. ‘Your progeny,’ she managed evenly. ‘And the future generation of Del Marco Industries.’

For a moment she thought she caught a wicked gleam in those dark eyes, then it was gone, and she put it down to her vivid imagination.

Sophia nodded. ‘It is something of which I remind him on occasion.’

Why did the thought of Alessandro married cause her heart to plummet? And imagining him with another woman, a child or three … hurt?

It didn’t make sense.

‘Shall we order coffee?’ Alessandro queried, and Sophia sent him a wry smile.

‘Always you evade the issue.’

‘And always I promise you will be the first to know when I find the right woman,’ he said gently.

The sky was a dark indigo, and the air held an icy chill as they emerged from the restaurant a short while later.

It was a relief to reach Alessandro’s car, the heating welcome as he took the north-west route to Magenta.

His apartment was situated on the P.za Sant Ambrogio, comprising two levels, and the height of luxury with marble-tiled floors, elegant oriental rugs, beautiful rosewood furniture in the lounge and reception rooms. Four guest bedroom suites were situated upstairs, including the master suite.

It wasn’t the image Lily held of a bachelor pad. Somehow she’d expected something less … refined. Instead there was a quiet elegance apparent, simpatico with the building itself with its stucco exterior and ornate window framing illuminated by street lighting.

Whoever had organized the restoration had ensured the renovations combined modern-day luxury while maintaining the feel of a former era.

It was in a word … lovely. And Lily offered the compliment with sincerity.

‘Grazie,’ Alessandro inclined. ‘It pleases me you approve. Will an hour be sufficient in which to shower and change?’

‘With ease,’ Sophia assured. ‘Lily?’

‘Of course.’

It took only minutes to unpack her overnight bag, discard her clothes and slip into the decadent marble en suite. For a moment she took an envious glance at the bath with its marbled surrounds and elegant fittings, before moving to the shower. A luxurious soak in decadent scented water was out of the question, and she quickly quelled the image as she turned the water dial.

There was no need to rush, and she took her time before drying off, then she wound a towel turban-style over her hair before slipping into fresh underwear, and tended to her make-up with a light hand, merely emphasizing her eyes, a touch of bronze blusher to each cheek, followed by a light gloss to her lips.

The classic little black dress with black stilettos was a safe choice.

She decided to sweep her hair into an elegant twist, which took several minutes to pin in place, and she added a subtle perfume to a few pulse points, attached diamond and ruby ear-studs and added a matching bracelet to her wrist.

Then she placed a red coat over her shoulders, collected an evening purse and joined Sophia at the head of the stairs.

‘You look lovely, cara,’ Sophia complimented, and Lily smiled as she tucked a hand inside her aunt’s elbow.

‘So do you.’ For Sophia bore a timeless elegance in whatever she chose to wear, she accorded with genuine admiration as they descended the stairs.

Alessandro was in the process of ending a call as they reached the spacious lounge, and she watched idly as he slipped the device into the inside pocket of his jacket before moving forward to greet them.

Attractive, intensely masculine in impeccable tailoring, white shirt in fine cotton, silk tie—he was something else, Lily perceived.

There was a depth to him, well hidden beneath the outer trappings his wealth could provide.

For a brief moment she sought to define it, and failed to adequately pin it down to any one quality.

Yet there was an instinctive sense of a need for self-preservation, a wariness that warned that when he played, he played to win. In any situation, be it a business deal, or a woman.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine the type of woman he would seek. Tall, slender, beautiful, a socialite who would be the perfect hostess, please him in bed, bear him the requisite heir and turn a blind eye when he sought out a mistress.

‘Charming,’ Alessandro accorded with a smile that encompassed both women, and Lily caught the faint gleam of humour as his eyes caught and held her own.

For a brief moment she had the uncanny feeling he’d read her mind. Something she immediately dismissed as being ridiculous, for she wasn’t that transparent … surely?

‘Shall we leave?’

The hotel was situated adjacent the neighboring Botanical

Gardens, and entrance into the hotel’s exclusive lobby revealed beautiful fittings and furnishings.

Directions to a private lounge where the designer after party was being held were on display, and Security checked invitations at the door.

Once inside, Lily was met with a wave of the beautiful people, a few recognizable actresses, a model or three among them, and an abundance of glitz and glamour.

Members of the paparazzi were there with camera flashbulbs snapping the rich and famous, and the not too discreet journalists rapidly recording names as they matched who was with whom.

Voices filled the room, vying with background music which fought to be heard above snatches of Italian, French and English.

The people, the fashions, the sheer ambience … It was, in a word, amazing.

‘Darling, you look absolutely stunning,’ a light feminine voice offered in gushing tones. ‘Who are you wearing?’

‘A British designer who’s making quite a name for herself.’

‘Really. Who?’

The name was lost as another voice intruded, male, this time.

‘Alessandro. Sophia.’ Dark eyes settled on Lily. ‘And this is?’

‘Francesco,’ Sophia acknowledged with polite charm. ‘Allow me to introduce my niece, Lily. Francesco Alverro.’

A tall man, whose practiced smile appeared exactly that—practiced—as Lily took the hand he extended. And ignored the silent invitation in the intimate press of his thumb against her palm.

‘We must get together.’

Not going to happen, she silently declined as she freed her hand.

‘We have a number of social engagements planned over the next few weeks,’ Sophia relayed with seeming regret.

‘At a few of which we’re bound to meet again.’

Lily felt the light touch of Alessandro’s hand at her waist, and managed not to freeze into immobility. What was he doing?

‘Perhaps,’ Alessandro conceded smoothly. ‘If you’ll excuse us?’

Francesco inclined his head, eyes gleaming with wicked recognition for an instant before he stepped aside.

‘I’m quite capable of judging men for myself,’ Lily intoned quietly minutes later as a guest engaged Sophia in conversation.

‘Of course you are,’ he agreed with the barest hint of cynicism, and she wanted to hit him for alluding to her disastrous relationship with James.

‘That was uncalled for.’

‘You would do well to steer clear. Francesco has a history of enjoying the chase, the capture, only to walk away.’

She met his dark gaze fearlessly. ‘Don’t most men?’

‘Not always.’

‘You, of course, are the exception,’ she dismissed in droll tones. ‘Which would explain why you’ve managed to avoid any commitment?’

His husky chuckle curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little. ‘Maybe I have yet to meet the one woman I would choose to share my life?’

‘Someone sufficiently brave not to pander to your ego?’

‘How … refreshing.’

‘You think?’ she offered with a faux smile, only to blink at a sudden flashbulb.

‘A new conquest, Signor del Marco?’ a feminine voice demanded, and thrust a small recording device close to him.

‘A friend,’ he responded with pseudo politeness, only to gain a knowing smile.

‘Are you going to divulge the lady’s name?’

Alessandro’s silence earned a light laugh in response. ‘I have my sources. Enjoy the party.’

‘Interesting,’ Lily declared with a tinge of humour when the woman had moved out of earshot. ‘Is it your celebrity or notoriety that draws attention?’

He subjected her to a steady appraisal. ‘You possess a sassy mouth.’

A swift shaft of sensation arrowed deep within, and for a timeless second she felt the breath hitch in her throat, then she recovered.

‘I believe it is a defence mechanism against men like you.’

‘You have no knowledge of what manner of man I am.’

Believe me, I don’t want to know.

So why this inclination to indulge in a tangle of words with him when instinct warned against it?

‘Should I dare to offer a homespun psychological assessment?’

She caught a glimpse of wry humour in his dark eyes, then it was gone. ‘You could try.’

Lily pretended to contemplate the challenge. ‘I’ll attempt a comparative balance,’ she managed solemnly. ‘In your favour, there is Sophia … for whom you would do almost anything. Even gifting time and support to her niece, which earns you several brownie points.’ She held up a hand and figuratively ticked off one finger. ‘I assume you’re kind to young children and animals?’ She barely paused as she counted off another finger. ‘Of course you are. So let’s move along. You’re presentable, dress well, and possess a credible work ethic.’ More than credible, but she chose not to linger.

‘However, you have a certain—’ Lily trailed deliberately. ‘—reputation. Which may be part fiction.’ She pretended to contemplate the issue. ‘Let’s concede the jury is still out on that one.’

‘Generous of you.’

She offered him a stunning smile. ‘I’m glad you think so.’

There was a certain satisfaction to being in control, even temporarily. Yet she had the uncanny sensation it was he who held the strings.

Sophia rejoined them, and it was interesting to observe the guests shift singly and in small groups as the evening progressed.

In turn it was exciting to be part of it all, to simply observe the guests whose mission it was to be seen and impress; those who attended the various fashion weeks in other European capital cities and for whom designer after-parties were de rigueur.

Lily overheard voices raised in conflicting opinion over one particular designer’s offerings on the runway.

‘Cara, fashion is an art form, presented for visual appreciation of the designers’ skilled technique with cloth and thread.’

‘But, darling, who would consider wearing it?’

‘A designer original speaks for itself.’

‘And that is its attraction.’

‘Exactement.’

Of course, Lily agreed silently as she scanned the room with interest, pausing when she sighted Sophia in deep conversation with a very attractive man.

Her aunt led a very full life with her involvement in a few select charities, together with an active social existence. She had once confided she’d chosen not to remarry, for her late husband had been her soulmate, and true love rarely struck twice.

For a moment Lily pondered the meaning of soulmate … two people so totally in tune with each other in every way, there could never be anyone else for either of them during their lifetime.

Had she felt that way about James?

In all honesty, she’d thought she loved him. Yet with the benefit of hindsight, she had to admit she’d loved the man she wanted him to be.

Rose-coloured glasses? Perhaps. From her perspective the relationship had felt right at the time. Although on reflection, she was able to pinpoint a few instances when she’d experienced slight niggles, little things she’d found mildly irksome, which she’d dismissed on the grounds she undoubtedly possessed a few irritating traits of her own.

Yet she’d enjoyed the sense they were a couple, with supposedly the same interests, and the sex, the intimacy had been … satisfactory.

James had wanted a short engagement, while she had been in no rush to legalize their relationship. It was James who had suggested they have a big wedding, and who had endeavoured to veto the small private ceremony she preferred.

He also had a liking for expensive clothes, the status symbols of wealth, but without the income to support them, given he regularly gifted financial assistance to his sister who resided in another state. Or so he had said.

Except the purported sister had turned out to be the lover she had faced sharing her bed in her own home.

Soulmate … to be so in tune with a partner, to know without doubt you were twin halves of a whole co-joined for life. Was it possible?

For some, perhaps.

‘You’re thinking too much.’

Alessandro’s silky drawl lifted the fine hairs on her body, and there was no valid reason for the sudden spiral of sensation deep within.

Except it was there, like an ache that needed soothing … ridiculous.

Breathe, she bade silently as the tension between them became electric.

You’re being fanciful, Lily silently chided. Overly imaginative. In the thrall of rampant hormones, the thought of which she found almost laughable.

Alessandro watched the play of fleeting emotions in her expressive eyes, and wondered if she realized how easily he could divine them.

On one level she fascinated him. For she possessed a conflicting mix of strength and vulnerability that made him feel … protective of her.

Even in killer heels the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, and he had an instinctive urge to remove the pins from her hair, knot its length with his fist and tug back her head to taste the sweet column of her throat, then savour the increased pulse-beat in the hollow at its base.

There was a bemused inclination to wonder how she’d feel in bed … his … her hair loose and tangled, her voice husky with passion as he drove her wild.

Not the most comfortable of contemplations, he perceived a trifle wryly as he caught a glimpse of Sophia on the point of rejoining them.

‘I am so sorry,’ Sophia apologized. ‘I became caught up with one of the sponsors responsible for contributing to next week’s charity gala.’

‘Who undoubtedly agreed to increase his original donation,’ Alessandro ventured, and was rewarded by Sophia’s sparkling agreement.

‘It is going to be a magnificent event. Tomorrow,’ she added, gifting Lily a warm smile, ‘we shop for something spectacular for each of us to wear.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Lily agreed.

It was late when Sophia suggested they should leave, and Lily glanced idly at the well-lit streets as Alessandro negotiated traffic.

The after-party had been a fascinating experience, completing an exceptional day … and Lily said as much as they entered Alessandro’s apartment.

‘Thank you,’ she added with genuine appreciation, and gave Sophia a warm hug. Then she turned towards Alessandro and offered a smile. ‘Grazie.’

‘My pleasure.’

His dark gaze encompassed them both. ‘Shall we have coffee?’

‘I’ll pass,’ Lily declined, ‘and head for bed.’

‘Sleep well, cara,’ Sophia bade gently, and watched Lily ascend the stairs, aware Alessandro’s attention mirrored her own. With a quiet smile she tucked a hand beneath his arm. ‘Let’s have that coffee.’

In the kitchen he spooned ground coffee beans into the espresso machine, then he filled two demitasse cups with the dark aromatic brew, set both cups on the table and gave the woman seated opposite a quizzical look.

‘This is not about the coffee.’

Sophia met his gaze with a degree of solemnity. ‘No.’

He took a seat and offered a wry smile. ‘Lily.’

Sophia was silent for a few measurable seconds. ‘I would hate to see her hurt,’ she said gently.

‘Will it ease your mind if I assure you that is not my intention?’

‘Sì.’

A simple affirmative, one she had no hesitation in giving. ‘Buona fortuna, Alessandro.’

Dark eyes gleamed with a tinge of humour. ‘I may need it.’

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