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She lifted her chin. ‘Don’t be so arrogant.’

‘You’re denying it?’

‘I didn’t feel like talking, Stefano, to you or anyone. I’m tired, and this isn’t exactly my crowd.’

In answer he touched her chin with his fingertips, levelled her gaze to meet his own. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked quietly.

Something ached in Allegra. If only it were so simple, if only he really wanted to know. To understand.

If only he could make it better.

‘Nothing,’ she said through numb lips.

‘You’re upset.’

‘Stop telling me what I am!’ Allegra snapped, her voice rising enough so there was a lull in the conversation.

‘You could mingle,’ Stefano said mildly. ‘Get to know people.’

Allegra kept her gaze averted. ‘I don’t feel like it.’

‘I was hoping,’ he continued in that aggravatingly calm voice, ‘that we could enjoy ourselves this evening.’

She hunched one shoulder, her face averted. ‘I’m tired, and I’m not really here to be your escort, am I, Stefano? Remember? I’m here to help Lucio. That’s all.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ There was a savage edge to his voice that made Allegra’s gaze slide nervously yet curiously to his. She was shocked to see his face, the hard lines and harsh angles of a man set in bitterness. In anger. ‘You think I don’t remind myself of that every day?’ he demanded in a low voice.

Allegra shook her head, not daring to consider what he might mean. What he might want. ‘Stefano …’

‘Allegra, all I’m asking is that you act normally. Socialise. Chat. You used to be able to talk the hind leg off a donkey. I never got a word in edgewise. Have you changed so much?’ He smiled then, and Allegra felt the revealing prickle of tears behind her lids.

She remembered those conversations, how she’d chattered and laughed about anything and everything—stupid, girlish, childish dreams—and Stefano had listened. He’d always listened.

‘Stefano, don’t,’ she whispered.

He touched his thumb to her eyelid and it came away damp. ‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t,’ Allegra repeated helplessly. Don’t make me remember. Don’t make me fall in love with you. You broke my heart once; I couldn’t stand it again.

The realization that it was in fact a possibility should have terrified her, but right now all Allegra felt was sad. She felt, perhaps for the first time, the sweet, piercing stab of regret.

She blinked, and Stefano’s thumb came away wet again. ‘Why are you crying?’ he whispered and there was surprise and sorrow in his voice.

Allegra shook her head. ‘I don’t want to think about the past. I don’t want to remember.’

‘What about the good bits?’ Stefano asked. ‘There were some, weren’t there?’

‘Yes, but not enough.’ She took a deep, steadying breath and then stepped away from Stefano’s touch. ‘Never enough.’

‘No,’ Stefano agreed, his voice odd, flat. ‘Never enough.’

‘Besides,’ Allegra agreed, emboldened now that he wasn’t touching her, ‘you talk as if we had something real and deep and we didn’t.’ Another breath, more courage. ‘Not, presumably, like you did with someone else.’

Stefano stilled, his expression deepening, darkening into a frown. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I heard, Stefano,’ Allegra said. She took another breath; her lungs hurt. Or maybe it was somewhere else, somewhere deeper that had absolutely no business being hurt. ‘Antonia told me you were married.’

Even now Allegra expected him to deny it, to laugh even, or make some remark about how the closest he’d come to marriage was with her. Instead, a muscle flickered in his jaw and he gave a tiny shrug.

‘It wasn’t relevant.’

Allegra laughed; the sound carried on the air and people looked their way. ‘It would have been nice to know.’

‘Why, Allegra? Why would you need to know?’ There was a fierce, blazing look in his eyes and on his face that had Allegra stepping back again.

‘Just … just because,’ she said, and her reasons and self-righteousness deserted her, leaving her with nothing but a few stammered excuses. ‘It’s the kind of thing I should—’

‘Know?’ Stefano finished. His voice was soft and dangerous. ‘Do you ask all the adults you come in contact with about their marital history? The parents of the children you work with?’ He smiled mockingly, his eyes hard and cold.

‘You know it’s not that simple,’ Allegra snapped. ‘Stop turning the tables on me, Stefano. You conveniently forget and remember the past—our past—however the mood strikes you! Well, allow me the same courtesy!’ She realized, belatedly, that her voice had risen yet again. People were staring.

‘This is not the place,’ Stefano said between his teeth, ‘for this discussion.’

She ignored him, shaking her head, the implications exploding through her mind. ‘I don’t even know if you’re divorced. If you have children.’

‘I’m widowed,’ he bit out. ‘I told you before, I have no children.’ His hand clamped down on her elbow. ‘Now we’re going home.’

‘Maybe I don’t want to go home with you!’ she said, jerking away from him, her voice rising to a shriek—a shriek people heard.

There was a moment of embarrassed silence, and then the conversation resumed at double speed and sound.

Allegra swallowed, felt colour stain her face and throat. She was making a scene. A big one.

And Stefano was angry about it—perhaps angrier than she’d ever seen him before.

‘Are you quite finished?’ he asked in a voice of arctic politeness.

Allegra couldn’t look at him as she nodded. ‘Yes. We can go,’ she whispered.

‘Perhaps we should stay,’ Stefano told her in a deadly murmur, ‘and brazen it out. But I’ll have mercy … on both of us.’ He took her elbow once more and guided her none too gently out of the ballroom.

She managed to hold her head high even though her face was aflame as Stefano escorted her from the room amid a hiss of speculative murmurs. They were both silent all the way to the car.

Vespas and taxis sped around them in a glitter of lights as they drove from the hotel to the quieter Parioli district.

Allegra sagged against the seat. Her behaviour, she knew, had been inexcusable. She should have waited to talk to Stefano back at his town house rather than force a full confrontation in the middle of an important business engagement.

She closed her eyes against the prickling of tears. He should have told her he’d been married.