The Italian's Bought Bride. Kate Hewitt

her all those years ago, and she’d never asked. ‘What kind of research?’

      ‘Mostly mechanical. I develop new technology to improve the efficiency of industrial machinery.’

      ‘You’ve lost me,’ Allegra said with a little laugh and Stefano smiled.

      ‘Most of it wouldn’t concern your day-to-day living anyway. My research has been centred on machinery in the mining industry. A selective field.’

      ‘Capozzi Electronica is a big business though,’ Allegra said, ‘isn’t it? I’ve seen your logo on loads of things—CD players, mobile phones.’

      Stefano shrugged. ‘I’ve bought a few companies.’

      She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Stefano plucked her wineglass from her fingers and gave her a teasing smile. ‘Enough of that. The music is starting again and I’d like to dance. Dance with me?’

      He held one hand out, just as he’d done all those years ago on her eighteenth birthday, when she’d walked down the stairs and into what she’d thought was her future.

      Now she hesitated. ‘Stefano, I don’t think…’

      ‘For old times’ sake.’

      ‘I don’t want to remember old times.’

      Stefano smiled faintly. ‘No, neither do I, come to think of it. Then how about for new times’ sake? New friendships.’

      She stared at his hand, outstretched, waiting. The fingers were long and tapered, the skin smooth and tanned. ‘Allegra?’

      She knew this was a bad idea. She’d wanted to chat with Stefano like an old friend, but she didn’t want to dance with him like one. Didn’t know if she should get that close.

      And yet something in her rebelled. Wanted to see how they were together, how she reacted to him. Wanted, strangely, to feel that lightning streak of pain…to see if it was there at all.

      Mutely she nodded.

      His hand encased—engulfed—hers and he led her on to the dance floor. She stood there woodenly, her feet shuffling in a parody of steps, while couples danced around them, some entwined, some holding themselves more awkwardly, all of them sliding her and Stefano speculative glances.

      ‘This isn’t a waltz, Allegra,’ Stefano murmured and pulled her gently to him.

      Their hips collided in an easy movement that was far too intimate…more intimate than anything that had passed between them during their engagement.

      She felt the hard contours of him against her own softness, unyielding and strong. Allegra stiffened and jerked back even as her limbs went weak.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, ‘I don’t dance that often.’

      ‘Nor do I,’ Stefano murmured back, his lips close—too close—to her hair. ‘But I hear it’s like riding a bike. You never forget.’

      His arms were around her waist, his fingers splayed on her lower back. ‘Do you remember how we danced? On your eighteenth birthday?’ A glimmer of a smile lurked in the mobile curve of his mouth, although his eyes were shuttered. ‘You clung to me for balance because you’d never worn heels before.’

      Allegra shook her head, closed her eyes before snapping them open once more. ‘I was a child.’

      Stefano frowned, his eyes flickering across her face. ‘Perhaps,’ he said at last. ‘But you aren’t one now.’

      ‘No,’ Allegra agreed, ‘I’m not.’

      They danced in silence, swaying to the rhythm, their bodies— chests, hips, thighs—all too tantalisingly close. Allegra felt herself relaxing, even though there was a taut wire of tension running through her core, vibrating with awareness.

      She’d never expected it to happen like this. And yet, she realized, she’d expected to see Stefano again. A part of her, she acknowledged now, had been waiting for their reunion since the night she’d fled.

      Why? she wondered, and her heart knew the answer. To show him how strong she was, how healed and healthy and happy she was…without him.

      ‘What are you thinking?’ Stefano murmured, and Allegra gazed at him through half-closed lids, soothed by the music and wine.

      ‘How odd this is,’ she admitted in a husky murmur. ‘To be dancing with you…again.’

      ‘It is odd,’ Stefano agreed, his voice pitched low to match hers. ‘But not unpleasant, surely.’

      ‘I expected you to hate me.’ Her eyes opened, widened. Waited.

      He shrugged. ‘Why should I, Allegra? It was a long time ago. You were young, afraid. You had your reasons. And, in the end, we didn’t know each other very well, did we? A handful of dinners, a few kisses. That was all.’

      Allegra nodded, accepting, though her throat was tight. He’d distilled their relationship down to its rather shallow essence, and yet it had been the most profound experience of her life.

      ‘Do you hate me?’ Stefano asked with surprising, easy candour. Allegra looked up, startled, and saw a shadow flicker through his eyes.

      ‘No,’ she said, and meant it. ‘No. I’ve moved past it, Stefano.’ She smiled, tried to keep her voice light. Breezy. ‘It was a long time ago, as we’ve both agreed, and I’ve realized that you never lied to me. I just believed what I did because I wanted to.’

      ‘And what did you believe?’ Stefano asked softly. Allegra forced herself to meet his gaze directly.

      ‘That you loved me…as much as I loved you.’

      The words seemed to reverberate between them and for a strange second Allegra felt like the girl she’d been seven years ago, standing before Stefano and asking, Do you love me?

      He’d never answered then, and he didn’t now.

      Allegra let out a breath. What had she expected? That he’d tell her he had loved her, that it had all been a mistake, a misunderstanding?

      No, of course not. It hadn’t been a mistake. It had been the right thing to do. For both of them.