Free The Passionate Italian 11 DECEMBER EPUB by Diana Fraser Page A

always pleased to accommodate you.”
    True to his word, the maitre d’ found a table in the busy bar and Rose let him seat her before she looked around. No sign of Giovanni yet. But he’d be here. The maitre d’ would make sure of that. Wherever Giovanni was, he’d be informed of her presence here within the hour.

    Two hours later she was the centre of attention. She didn’t kid herself that it was her sparkling conversation or any deep connection she was making with the half-a-dozen men vying for her smile. She wriggled uncomfortably in the slim-fitting dress that she’d bought in a fit of pique three years ago and had never worn. Like all the rest of her clothes she’d left behind, it had remained in the wardrobe, as if Giovanni had always expected her to return. She’d never worn this particular dress. It had been too revealing, Giovanni had claimed, and so she’d gone along with his wishes and it had remained unworn. But tonight it was having the exact effect she’d planned—except with the wrong men. Where was he? She tugged the dress down over her thighs, crossed her legs and sipped yet more wine for courage.
    Her glass was immediately refilled. She wondered, briefly, how many glasses she’d had before the thought evaporated hazily at the sensation of her straight and silky hair tickling the heated skin of her bare shoulders and back.
    “You have beautiful hair, bella.” One of the young men—younger than her, she estimated—emboldened perhaps by her unfocussed gaze, leant forward and ran his hands through it before tickling her breast with a lock that had begun to curl in the heat.
    That focused her sharply. “Enough,” she batted away his hand and stood up, ignoring the urgings from her companions to remain. Either Giovanni hadn’t heard about her presence in the notorious bar, or he didn’t care. If he’d cared, he would have been there fighting the men off. Time to go.
    She rose and felt the room move. She must have drunk more wine than she’d thought. She walked unsteadily out to the balcony, followed by a couple of the men. Suddenly the cool English tones of Giovanni’s assistant, Simon, rang out.
    “Signora Rose, allow me.”
    She’d never been so pleased to see anybody in her life. She took his arm and left the building.
    “Am I glad to see you Simon.”
    “So it would seem Signora Rose.”
    He held her firmly as they walked the block back to the palazzo.
    “Do you often go there, Simon?”
    “Rarely. But it was suggested that you might need some assistance tonight. I’d been there a while before I thought it timely to make my move.”
    “Who did the suggesting?”
    “Signore Visconti of course. He wanted to make sure you arrived home safely.”
    She stopped in astonishment and stood unsteadily. “How did he know I was there?”
    “I think it would be more fitting for him to tell you that. But he was aware of your, er, evening out, but—”
    “But didn’t want to do anything about it himself. Thought he’d get you to do the dirty work.”
    “Now, Signora Rose. Firstly we should move. You’ll get us both run over standing in the middle of the road like this. And secondly escorting you from the club was hardly dirty work.”
    “Hmm!” Rose began walking once more, her shoes stabbing the cobbled stones with irritation. He’d been there, or had known she was, and had deliberately sent one of his employees to sort her out. Just like an errant child who needed to be watched over by an impartial carer. Damn it! He hadn’t even cared enough to make sure she was all right himself!
    She could feel the tears begin. She really must have drunk more wine than she’d thought. Those guys must have been topping up her glass without her noticing.  
    So that’s all she was to him. Someone to be organized, cared for from a distance, just like one of his employees. She’d tried to find him, to spend time with him, but instead she’d found interest from the wrong men and even