The Playboy of Rome
His whole body stiffened. This was his fault. He’d been so upset by her rejection that he’d built up an impenetrable wall between them. Maybe if he hadn’t been so worried about letting her hurt him again, she wouldn’t have been trying so hard to impress him and his family—his dysfunctional family. If he couldn’t please his father—his own flesh and blood—how was she supposed to succeed?
Dante’s gaze took in the right side of the main road, but there was no sign of Lizzie. And then he proceeded to the left, the direction they’d come from the city. That had to be the way she’d gone. He could only hope that she was wise enough to keep to herself and not trust any strangers. If anything happened to her—
He cut off the thought. Nothing would happen to her. She would be fine. She had to be.
And then he spotted the back of her red dress. He let out a breath that had been pent up in his chest. He sent up a silent thank-you to the big man upstairs.
He pulled up next to her and put down the window. “Lizzie, get in the car.”
She didn’t stop walking. She didn’t even look at him. He was in a big mess here. He picked up speed and pulled off the road. He cut the engine and jumped out of the car.
By this point, Lizzie was just passing the car. She was still walking and he had no choice but to fall in step next to her. It was either that or toss her over his shoulder. He didn’t think she’d appreciate the latter option. And he didn’t need any passing motorists calling the polizia.
“Lizzie, would you stop so we can talk?”
Still nothing. Her strides were long and quick. His car was fading into the background. He should have locked it up, but he never imagined she’d keep walking.
“What are you going to do? Walk the whole way back to Rome?”
She came to an abrupt halt and turned to him with a pained look. “It’s better than going back and facing your family.”
“Lizzie, they didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just...just that your food surprised them.”
“I know. I saw the looks on their faces. Your father couldn’t get away from the table fast enough. It was as if he was going to be sick.” A pained look swept over her face. “Oh, no. He didn’t get sick, did he?”
“Not like you’re thinking.” Dante really didn’t want to discuss his family’s problems here on the side of the road. “Come back to the car with me. We can talk there.”
She crossed her arms. “We can talk here.”
“Fine. The truth is your cooking was fantastic.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I’m going to fall for that line.”
She turned to start walking again when he reached out, grabbing her arm. “Wait. The least you can do is hear me out.”
Her gaze moved to his hand. He released his hold, hoping she wouldn’t walk away.
“I’m listening. But don?
??t feed me a bunch of lies.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” he ground out. “The honest-to-goodness truth is your dinner tasted exactly like my mother’s cooking. At least that’s what I’m told since I never had the opportunity to taste anything she prepared.”
Lizzie pressed a hand to her mouth.
“It seems that particular dish was her favorite. She made it for special occasions—most notably my father’s birthday. He hasn’t had it since she was alive. So you can see how it would unearth a lot of unexpected memories.”
She blinked repeatedly. “I’m so sorry. I never thought—”
“And you shouldn’t have to know these things. It’s just that my family doesn’t move on with life very well. They have a tendency to stick with old stories and relish memories. If you hadn’t noticed, my mother’s memory is quite alive. And Massimo had no clue that the dish was special to my mother and father.”
“I feel so awful for upsetting everyone.”
“You have nothing to worry about. In fact, you might be the best thing that has happened to my family in a very long time.”
Her beautiful blue eyes widened. “How do you get that?”
“My family has been in a rut for many years. And you’re like a breath of fresh air. Instead of them going through the same routine day in and day out, now they have something to look forward to.”