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.’

life. My first Holy Communion    , my Confirmation, the time I represented Milan in the under tens’ gymnastics,’ she said, ticking the events off

been abandoned by the people who should have been there for them. For good or ill, it had shaped them both. The distrust and avoidance of love

were more alike than he’d

honey-brown a darkened swirl. He’d seen that swirl before, when she’d been pressed

felt unbelievably good in his arms, as if her contours had been shaped

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

dress had dipped, exposing the top of her golden cleavage, below

look like now? Did

together was what had got him into all this trouble in the first place, sitting in that Milanese restaurant, fascinated by her plump lips, imagining

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