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

‘Why not?’ she repeated.

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

with incredulity, as if to say,

him, she took a drink of water and allowed him to steer the conversation to innocuous

to; she had a way of fixing her honey eyes on him

tasted her delights and to imagine tasting them again made him feel as if he had heated syrup running through his veins. It wasn’t

day of their wedding couldn’t come

* * *

silence when they returned. For 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 attention away

His fiancée.

to expect her silence to last for long. Instead, they had relaxed into easy conversation, just as they had on their one real date together. As on that night in Milan, he’d found his eyes drawn

body reacted to everything, from the way her mouth moved to her husky laugh, to the way she smoothed

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