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Do you love me?
She closed her eyes, willing the flood of feelings to recede.
She hadn’t broken down for seven years and she wasn’t about to break down now.
She wasn’t about to break down ever.
She stiffened her shoulders, lifted her chin. Next to her, Antonia let out a raucous bird-like laugh as she chatted and flirted with the man on her other side.
Allegra heard the murmur of conversation around her, knew no one was paying attention to her, and tried to relax. She stared down at her uneaten dessert, a custard flan in a golden pool of syrup, and felt her stomach roil and rebel.
Relax.
So Stefano had been married. It didn’t mean anything; it wouldn’t mean anything to her.
And yet still … still. Still it mattered, still it meant something. She didn’t want to think what, couldn’t bear to analyse the feeling. Yet she already knew.
Hurt. It was hurt.
Allegra picked up her fork and took a bite of her dessert. It might as well have been cardboard for all she could taste; she was too preoccupied with this new awareness, this new hurt. Understanding and accepting it … and then dismissing it.
Why was she hurt? Why did she let him get under her skin, into her heart now? Still?
Always.
Allegra shook her head in instinctive, desperate denial. No. She wasn’t that girl.
Do you love me?
She wasn’t; she knew what he was like, had known for years. He’d bought her, had bought her like an object, a thing. And, worse, he’d treated her like one.
Not a treasure.
Never a treasure.
No matter what she’d wanted to convince herself of for a single evening’s enjoyment.
She pushed her dessert away, took a sip of wine and felt Stefano’s eyes on her. He was chatting with a business colleague across the table, but his considering glance swept over her, and out of the corner of her eye Allegra saw his mouth tighten and knew he was aware that she was upset. He just didn’t know why.
Dessert was cleared, coffee served, and Allegra forced herself to make small talk with the dowdy housewife on her left. Antonia had abandoned her completely, and Allegra could only be relieved. She didn’t need any more well-placed catty remarks right now.
After the meal the guests circulated, chatting and laughing, while music from a string quartet played softly. Allegra moved through the elegant crowd, saw Stefano sweep the room with a hawk-eyed gaze. She wound her way through the throng and leaned against a cool marble pillar. She didn’t know what she’d say to Stefano now, didn’t even know what to think.
‘Why are you hiding again?’ Stefano had come behind her without her realizing it, and now she stiffened.
‘I’m not hiding,’ she retorted and he raised one eyebrow.
‘You were avoiding me.’
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—’