Topsy glanced up again. ‘Do they?’
‘It may have taken Vittore and I thirty years to finally get together but we first met and fell in love when we were sixteen years old,’ Sofia divulged quietly.
Topsy was stunned by that information. ‘Why did you break up?’
Sofia looked sad. ‘Vittore was the son of the town drunk and I was the daughter of the most successful local businessman. My family would never have allowed us to be together. My father owed Dante’s father a great deal of money and when I agreed to marry Aldo, the debt was written off.’
‘That must’ve been horrible for you!’ Topsy breathed in horror.
‘It was but in those days you did as your parents told you.’
‘So, how on earth did you meet Vittore again?’
Sofia grinned. ‘I found him on the Internet and do you know? The minute I saw him it was like the thirty years hadn’t happened and we didn’t want to waste any more time,’ she confided.
‘What does Dante think of that story?’ Topsy frowned. ‘You haven’t told him, have you? But it’s so romantic, Sofia.’
‘Dante is not a romantic man,’ Sofia declared ruefully. ‘He would think us both even more foolish if he knew the truth.’
Touched by that story, Topsy took a while to get back to checking the seating arrangements. Her brain was teeming with busy thoughts. It was a shock to learn that Dante had once been married and that he had gone from losing the wife he loved to taking on three mistresses. Had he tried to bury his pain in rampant sex?
Whatever, Sofia’s warning earlier was kindly meant even though Topsy had not needed it for she’d seen from the start that Dante was not interested in anything more than a fleeting affair. And she was content with that, wasn’t she? She would return to London a lot less ignorant of men and look back on Dante as her first lover with fondness rather than regret. She had no other expectations, absolutely none, she assured herself doggedly, silencing and squashing the cry of pain deep down inside her. If she had accidentally managed to become a little too attached to him she would soon overcome that foolishness.
* * *
In Milan, Dante was frowning and tossing his phone on the desk. He had been candid with Cosima and, to be fair, she had matched his candour. Choice didn’t come into the situation when the PR power of the ball would have a direct effect on the funds being raised. What was he supposed to say to Topsy? But then why was he worrying about saying anything? He reminded himself that Topsy had refused to accompany him to Milan. He didn’t owe her any explanations, nor did he want to take their affair in a direction that implied that he wanted more. Accidenti! He didn’t like complications and hated hassle, particularly with women. Keep it simple, he told himself impatiently. Saying nothing was wiser.
* * *
The night before the ball, Topsy agreed to join Gaetano for a drink in the village café when he rang. She was grateful for the distraction the invite gave because she had repeatedly and pointlessly revisited her decision not to go to Milan with Dante and just as often she had told herself that she would not rearrange her life, ignore her safe boundaries or fall down on the job she was doing simply for Dante’s benefit. She had made the right decision and she had no regrets, and in the same way she wasn’t sitting around waiting for Dante to come home like faithful Penelope. After all, he hadn’t phoned her once since his departure.
Dressed in a bright geometric print shift and high wedge sandals, she skipped down the steps and climbed into Gaetano’s car.
‘I’d have taken you for a meal but I don’t want my family to get the wrong idea and assume we’re dating,’ the builder confided ruefully. ‘Before you know where you are my mother will get the baby albums out.’
‘Your mamma already told me that you had gorgeous curls as a baby,’ Topsy told him with a giggle.
‘Besides, I hear you’re seeing Dante,’ Gaetano commented.
Eyes wide, Topsy swivelled in her seat. ‘Who told you that?’
‘My kid brother saw you walking hand in hand through Florence,’ Gaetano admitted. ‘There’s no such thing as privacy around here, particularly not when it comes to love lives. Gossip is the spice of life.’
Topsy seriously hoped that nobody knew about the picnic in the woods and went pink. ‘Dante and I...well, we’re just a casual thing.’
‘I wouldn’t want to tread on his toes,’ Gaetano confided. ‘When I phoned, I thought you’d say no to coming out.’
‘I don’t even know when Dante’s due home,’ Topsy admitted.
Gaetano asked her what she was wearing to the ball. ‘It’s a glorified maid’s outfit,’ she confided. ‘Sofia wanted me to choose something fancy but basically I’m staff and she’s the hostess, so I thought it made sense to choose something plain.’
‘You could never look plain...’
In a white-hot rage shielded by formidable cool, Dante focused on her vivid little face from across the street. Infuriatingly, she looked as though she was enjoying herself. He had been incredulous when he learned that she had gone out with another man when he was within an hour of coming home and he had been forced to sit through a session of his mother pontificating over whether or not Gaetano could get over his ex quickly enough to properly appreciate Topsy. As far as he was concerned, Topsy needed no other male appreciation. He was convinced that if he left her alone by the side of the road for five minutes he would find her surrounded by men when he came back. Topsy’s je ne sais quoi sexiness and energy were a magnetic draw for the opposite sex.
Topsy very nearly fell off her chair when Dante strode into the café. Within seconds the proprietor was by his side and hurrying off to serve him. She studied Dante, hopelessly greedy for the sheer rush of seeing him again, her heart rate kicking up, a steady tension infiltrating her every muscle. As she met his remarkable green eyes her surroundings vanished into oblivion. It was a severe overreaction to his presence and she knew it was but she couldn’t suppress it. A physical infatuation might have seized hold of her formerly controlled self, but her brain told her she could cope with it as long as she didn’t let it take over entirely.
Gaetano was already cheerfully exchanging talk of the ball with Dante as he sat down, a glass of wine arriving magically fast at his elbow. Topsy glanced across the table at him, noting the heavy black lashes that concealed his eyes, the spectacular bone structure beneath his olive-toned skin. Dante had been married, she found herself thinking afresh. He had promised to love, honour and share with another woman and she had died and he had ended up alone. Alone but for the three mistresses, she reminded herself staunchly, keen not to idealise her image of him. Without warning he looked at her and a surge of unwelcome heat and awareness blossomed between her legs. Conscious her breasts were swelling and her nipples tightening, she sucked in a deep audible breath and soft pink warmed her cheeks.
‘You won’t mind if I take Topsy home,’ Dante murmured to Gaetano.
‘I’ve only had one drink,’ Topsy objected. ‘This is virtually my first break from work in two days.’
‘I own a wine cellar. If you want to drink, you can do it with me.’
‘And what cave did you emerge from?’ Topsy asked sweetly. ‘Obviously it was a very recent move.’
Beside her, Gaetano was trying not to laugh but Topsy wasn’t amused. She didn’t want Dante ordering her around. He didn’t own her, he didn’t have the right to dictate where she went and what she did and even if she had loved him she would have fought him to the death on that issue.
‘Madre di Dio...OK, I should’ve phoned!’ Dante ground out the grudging admission between even white teeth.
‘Perhaps...’ Topsy tossed back, refusing to give ground, her dark eyes veiled as she wondered if he had consciously decided not to phone while he was away, if indeed he was as set as she was on respecting the limits of their relationshi
p. And if she was right in her suspicion, why was he behaving that way? And why change course to chase her down when she wasn’t immediately available?
‘Venga qui...come here,’ Dante breathed in a driven undertone as he suddenly sprang to his feet, six feet plus inches of rippling impatience, extending a lean, elegant hand to pull her upright.
‘See you tomorrow night,’ Gaetano told her with an appreciative grin, saluting them both with his glass as Dante closed an arm round Topsy’s slight shoulders.
‘I hate it when you try and tell me what to do,’ Topsy stretched up to mutter in Dante’s ear as he walked her across the street to his car.
‘It would have caused a scene if I’d just lifted you and carried you out,’ Dante parried in a mild tone that suggested his determination to retrieve her at any cost was perfectly normal.
Inside the car she couldn’t resist any more: she closed her fingers into his luxuriant black hair and dragged his beautiful mouth down to hers. Fireworks went off inside her, instant blazing, wildly colourful fireworks, and the connection left her weak. He pressed her back into the passenger seat. ‘Next time, I’ll phone,’ he promised.
‘Gaetano’s only a friend.’