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‘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.

Stefano hadn’t loved her, hadn’t even considered loving her, and she would have been miserable as his wife. She’d never regret her choice, never even look back. Not once. Not ever.

That you loved me … as much as I loved you. The words played a remorseless echo in Stefano’s brain, even as he continued to dance, continued to feel Allegra’s soft contours so tantalizingly close to him. He fought the urge to pull her closer, and closer still, and make her remember how they could have been all those years ago, if they’d been given the chance.

If she’d given him a chance.

But she hadn’t, she’d made her decision that night, and he’d accepted it.

Hell, he’d made peace with it. Or at least he would now, for Lucio’s sake.

Lucio … He forced his mind as well as other parts of his body away from Allegra’s tempting softness and thought of his housekeeper’s son, the grandson of the man who’d given him everything—shelter, food, opportunity—even at his own expense.

He wouldn’t repay Matteo by neglecting his duty to his grandson. He wouldn’t let Allegra distract him in his purpose … or, if it came to it, have him distract her.

His lips curved as he considered how many ways in which he could distract her …

No. No, the past was over. Finished.

Forgotten.

It had to be.

The music ended and they swayed to a stop before Stefano quite deliberately stepped away. It was time to tell Allegra the real reason why he was here … why he was dancing with her, or talking to her at all.

Allegra felt Stefano’s arms fall away and resisted the urge to shiver. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her uncle glowering and she looked away.

Stefano glanced around at the crowd of striving socialites and smiled. ‘This crowd isn’t really to my taste. What would you think about getting a drink some place more congenial?’

Allegra felt a leap of both anticipation and alarm in her chest. ‘I don’t …’

Stefano raised an eyebrow. ‘Care to finish that sentence?’ he asked dryly and Allegra realized she’d trailed off without knowing what to say. What to think.

What to feel.

‘It’s late,’ she murmured, and wondered what she wanted Stefano to do. Take her reluctance as refusal or refuse to take no for an answer?

It galled her that she didn’t know what she wanted him to do; she just wanted him to choose.

‘It’s not even ten o’clock yet,’ Stefano said. There was a lazy lilt to his voice that made Allegra feel as if a purring cat had just leapt on to her lap. She wanted to stroke it, test its softness. ‘One drink, Allegra. Then I’ll let you go.’

‘All right,’ she said, her voice cautious, yet with not nearly as much reluctance as she knew she should have.

She wondered why she was reluctant, why she was afraid.

They’d just shown how grown up and civil they could be. The past was truly forgotten.

She wasn’t that girl any more.

Stefano threaded her fingers with his own as he led her off the dance floor and away from the party.

This was strange, Allegra told herself as Stefano handed her her coat. Yet it was nice too, she realized as they headed out into the night, the September air cool on her flushed cheeks.

Too nice, perhaps.

‘Where to?’ Stefano stood on the kerb, an expensive woollen overcoat draped over one arm, his eyebrows raised in faint question.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know London nightspots very well.’

‘Nor do I. But I do know a quiet wine bar near here that can be quite relaxing. How does that sound?’

‘Fine. Lovely.’

She didn’t see Stefano gesture to the doorman, but he must have for a cab pulled sleekly to a halt at the kerb. Stefano brushed the doorman aside and opened the car door himself, ushering Allegra in before he joined her.

Their thighs touched as he slid next to her, and Stefano did not move away. Allegra wasn’t sure whether she liked the feel of his hard thigh pressing against hers or not, but she was certainly aware of it. Her hand curled around the door handle, nerves leaping to life.

They rode in silence, and Allegra was glad. She didn’t feel up to making conversation.

After a few minutes, the cab pulled to a halt in front of an elegantly fronted establishment in Mayfair and Stefano paid the driver before he helped Allegra out. His hand was warm and dry and Allegra forced herself to let go.

She could not let herself be attracted to Stefano now. Not when she had a life, admittedly a small, humble one compared to his wealth and status, but one that was hers and hers alone.