At least Stefan and Zayed were coming to the wedding. He would need his friends there. But not as much as Alessandra needed her brother.

If he had to get on his bended knee and beg, he would get Rocco to their wedding.

‘I sent a bridesmaid dress to Olivia,’ Alessandra blurted out, her cheeks staining with colour.

‘Have you heard back from her?’ he asked hopefully. If anyone could get through to Rocco, it would be his wife.

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t expect to. Her loyalty is with Rocco, not me.’

Conversation paused when a waiter arrived at their table laden with plates of steaming food.

Once they had helped themselves to a little of each meze, Alessandra said, ‘Are many of your family coming?’

‘I don’t have any family.’

She looked confused. ‘What about your mother?’

‘I haven’t invited her.’

‘Why not?’

do not want my mother at our

‘Why not?’ she repeated.

popped it into his mouth, leaving her in no doubt that, as far

glittered with incredulity, as if to say, trust

the conversation to innocuous small talk about music they liked and films they

eyes on

her delights and to imagine tasting them again made him feel as if he had heated syrup running through

of their wedding couldn’t come fast

* * *

the first time Christian regretted having the entire complex to themselves. There was no one—other than the handful of duty staff—to distract

His fiancée.

and stopped digging for information on his past, although something in her eyes had warned him not to expect her silence to last for long. Instead, they had relaxed into easy conversation, just as they had on their one real

of her was off the charts. His body

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