CHAPTER SEVEN

‘HAVE YOU EVER tried to find your father?’ Alessandra asked a short while later, her eyes filled with curiosity.

‘What for?’ he dismissed. ‘Why would I want to involve myself with a man who abandoned his wife and child?’

‘I get that,’ she said, pulling a face.

He closed his eyes. ‘Your father is an alcoholic and a gambler. He was incapable of looking after you. He didn’t abandon you. He’s always been a fixture in your life. There’s a difference.’

said, ticking the events off on her fingers. ‘He wasn’t at any of them. The few

gardens, Christian realised. They’d both been abandoned by the people who should have been there for them. For good

alike than he’d

eyes ablaze with furious passion, the honey-brown a darkened swirl. He’d seen that swirl before, when she’d been pressed against

his arms, as if

him and clung to him, as if trying to burrow under his skin. Those

V of her dress had dipped, exposing the top of her golden cleavage, below which lay breasts that had become plumper since

now? Did they still taste

into all this trouble in the first place, sitting in that Milanese restaurant, fascinated by her

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