The Italian's Future Bride(30)

Across the street, on the shady side, sitting languidly at a lunch table  with five business associates, Raffaelle happened to glance outside in  time to see Rachel walking by on the sunny side of the street.



A smile warmed him from the inside. She looked beautiful in her simple  white top and her short blue skirt which left a pleasurable amount of  her long legs bare. And her silky blonde hair was shining in the  sunlight, recently cut by an expert so the curls tumbled around her neck  and her face like sensual kisses.



It was no wonder other men stopped to admire her as she walked past  them, he observed, a smile catching the corners of his mouth as he saw  one guy in particular actually spin around to take a second look.



Sorry, but she belongs exclusively to me, he heard himself stake the  silent claim. Then he started to frown when another thought hit him.  Where was Tony? Where was his cousin Carlotta? Why was Rachel out  shopping alone when she knew the rules about going out without  protection from the ever-watchful press?



The sound of screeching car brakes diverted his attention. A glossy red  Ferrari with its top down had pulled to a sudden stop in the street. Its  handsome young owner leapt out with lean grace and approached Rachel  with his arms thrown open.



She had stopped to stare at him. What took place next lost Raffaelle the  power to maintain a grip on his surroundings. The quiet hum of  conversation taking place around the lunch table disappeared from his  consciousness as he saw her soft pink mouth frame a name.



The man spoke, his gestures expressive, like the rakish smile he  delivered as he gathered her into his arms, then kissed her cheeks, her  nose and finally, lingeringly, her parted pink mouth.



A mouth that belonged tohim . A mouth that did not attempt to draw back from the kiss.



So cold he felt frozen now, Raffaelle watched this other man run his fingers through her curls as he talked.



Small, familiar, intimate gestures. Soft parted pink lips that quivered when she spoke back to him.



They knew each other.



His heart hit his gut because it did not take much intelligence to  follow the body language and know without a single hint of doubt who the  man had to be.



Alonso. The heartbreaker. He was so sure of it he did not even think to question his certainty.



Had they arranged to meet-right here in broad daylight without a care as to who might see them like this?



How long had they been in touch with each other? Each time he had brought her with him here to Milan?



Was she still in love with him?



Dio. While she stood there in his arms, looking up at him like that, was  her heart beating too fast and her throat drying up and her blue eyes  helplessly drinking him in?



'Raffaelle … '



The sound of his name being spoken finally sank into his consciousness.  Turning his head, he received the impression that it was not the first  time one of his lunch companions had said his name.



'My apologies,' he said, managing to add a small grimace. 'My attention strayed for a few moments.'



'And why not, when the woman is as beautiful as the one seated in the window?' one of them said smiling.



Seated? Raffaelle turned again to focus on a table by the restaurant's  window where indeed a very beautiful woman sat smiling ruefully back at  him.                       
       
           



       



He had not noticed her before this moment.



He had not noticed any other women for a long time-not since Rachel came into his life.



His gaze flicked away from the smiling woman and across the street again.



He was in shock. He knew that. He knew that several important things  were happening inside him even as he watched Rachel's other Italian  lover fold an arm across her shoulders and guide her towards his car.



Car horns were blaring. The street was alive with impatient car drivers trapped behind Alonso's car.



'One quick coffee, then,' Rachel agreed as he swung open the door and helped her inside.



She should not be doing this. But they were drawing too much attention  and getting into Alonso's car seemed the better of two evils if coffee  somewhere was the only way she was going to get rid of him.



Alonso joined her in seconds, sliding into the seat beside her and  sending her one of his reckless grins as he slipped the car into gear.  He drove them away with a panache that completely disregarded the minor  chaos he had been causing in the street.



'Like old times, eh?' he laughed at her.



And it was, just like old times, when he had used to sweep up in one  fast car or another without a care while he waited for her to scramble  in next to him. His handsome carelessness used to excite her then. Now  it just scared her witless as she glanced quickly around them as they  drove off, hoping she did not see a face she recognised in the street-or  worse, a camera flashing.



'Somewhere quiet, Alonso,' she told him quickly. 'I can't afford to be seen with you.'



'Scared of what your rich new fiancé will say?'



You bet I am, Rachel thought. 'I call it respect for his feelings.'



'And a healthy respect for his bank balance too.'



Before she could challenge that last cynical remark, Alonso pulled into  one of the less fashionable squares off the main street. Two minutes  later they were sitting opposite each other at one of the pavement cafés  that lined the square.



Rachel looked at Alonso and saw a man who worked very hard to look,  dress, behave like the man he wished he could be but never would be.



And how did she know that? Because she had spent the last month with the  genuine article, a man who didn't need to work hard at being exclusive  and special, he just simply was. It was she who, like Alonso, had to  work hard at playing the part of someone she was not.



The comparison hit her low in her stomach.



As if he could tell what she was thinking, 'You have done very well for yourself,' Alonso said.



Rachel didn't answer, giving her attention to the waiter who had come to  their table. 'Espresso,' she told him. 'N-no, I don't want anything  else.'



Alonso ordered the same, then casually dismissed the waiter with a flick  of a hand. Had he always behaved with this much casual arrogance and  she had been too besotted with him to notice?



'Whatare you doing here in Milan?' She repeated her question from earlier.



Sitting back in his seat and crossing a knee over the other, he said, 'I  moved here six months ago-to a better position, of course.'



Of course, Rachel acknowledged. Alonso had always been ambitiously upwardly mobile. 'Still selling cars?'



'Super-cars,cara ,' he corrected dryly. 'They are not merely cars but  engineering works of art. But let us talk about you,' he said turning  the subject. 'You must be happy with your new lover. What woman would  not be?' His mouth turned cynical as his eyes drifted over her. 'No  longer the rosy-cheeked innocent up from the country, eh?'



Recalling that innocent young girl Alsono had known last year, with-if  not quite straw in her hair as Raffaelle described her-then pretty close  to it, made her smile.



'No,' she agreed.



Their coffees arrived then, putting a halt on the conversation while the  waiter did his thing. Eventually, Alonso sat forward to catch the hand  she'd used to reach for her cup.



'We had a good time, didn't we?' he said softly. 'I missed you when you left me to go home.'



'Did you?' Not so Rachel had noticed.



'Ah,si ,' he sighed. 'I almost came after you but-life, you know, got in my way … '



Another new conquest had got in his way, he meant.



'And maybe I did you a very great favour,' he added. 'For look where you  are today-betrothed to man with more connections in this city than any  other that I know of. A man in possession of his own bank! I salute  you,cara .'                       
       
           



       



Leaning towards him, Rachel let him lift her fingers to his lips. She  let him try to seduce her with the rueful tease glinting in his sensual  dark eyes. She even added a smile.



'You know what, Alonso,' she then said softly. 'You were a beautiful  charmer last year when I met you, and you are still a beautiful charmer  now.' He smiled and kissed her fingertips. 'But why don't you just tell  me what it is that you want from me, because I am going to get up and  leave here any minute … '



There was a moment of sharpened stillness, then he sat back in his seat and laughed. 'How did you guess?'



Living the part of a rich man's woman had taught her how useful other  people believed she could be to them. 'Raffaelle does not need another  new car,' she told him. 'He has too many of them already.'



'An introduction to him and his friends could bode well for me in the future, though.'



'Or ruin your career,' Rachel pointed out. 'Raffaelle knows about you and me,caro .'