Free Under the Italian's Command by Susan Stephens

restaurant. It had to be close by because she hadn’t called a taxi, and the nearest tube or bus stop was over a mile away. She had definitely planned to walk, but not far in those heels…
     
    It was pitch-black outside and the rain was turning to sleet. He couldn’t kid himself any longer; he’d been hard on her and that was why she’d gone out. What was more important to him? Carly’s safety and happiness, or an evening chatting with his pal?
     
     
     
    ‘Oh, no, thank you, I brought a book with me…’
     
    ‘But not this book,’ the young woman said confidently, plonking one from the pile in her arms down in front of Carly before disappearing back into the crowd.
     
    She tried to attract the attention of an attendant to hand the glossy booklet back. She was here to relax, not to be drawn into something that put such a flush on people’s faces.
     
    Having failed, she found as she had suspected that it wasn’t so much a book as a marketing tool, entitled, Raise Your Market Value, but it was the subheading that caught her attention: ‘Make contact, make chat, make love…’ She jerked around to take a closer look at everyone else in the bar.
     
    ‘Is this chair free?’
     
    She panicked and stood up.
     
    ‘Please don’t go,’ the man said plaintively. ‘I’m desperate to make contact with something other than a cyber chip—’
     
    Knocked back into her seat by a fresh rush of people she made a silent pledge to give it five minutes and then she was out of here.
     
    ‘Is this your first time?’ the man asked her.
     
    And the last, Carly decided, noticing he seemed fixated by her breasts.
     
    ‘We’ve made a good start, haven’t we?’ he said.
     
    Had they? Had they made a good start? If so she was giving out the wrong signals! Glancing round, she dreaded Lorenzo walking in, and yet wished he would.
     
    Then just as a bell sounded a man stepped out of the rain. The collar of his rugged jacket was pulled up tight, revealing a hint of the casual chequered shirt underneath. Snug-fitting blue jeans teamed with workman-like boots added to the piratical image created by the rough, dark stubble on his face. His unruly black hair curled damply round his chiselled cheekbones, and his eyes were narrowed as he searched the room.
     
    Lorenzo!
     
    Waitresses swarmed round him, and then looked her way.
     
    Escape! was the only thought in her head, but the bell had been a signal for everyone to move, or so it seemed. She was jostled and staggered as she tottered determinedly towards the nearest door. The handle seemed so temptingly close, yet as she launched herself forward to grab it the man who had been at her table got in the way.
     
    ‘No,’ he said, shaking his arm free as she clutched hold of him to steady herself. ‘Only we men move around. You women have to stay at your table.’
     
    ‘I’m sorry?’
     
    ‘You’ve had your five minutes with me,’ he explained self-importantly. ‘If I tick your box at the end of the evening you might get five minutes more.’
     
    Tick her box? Urgh ! That sounded horrible! But the thought of Lorenzo delivering one of his fire-and-thunder sermons was even worse—
     
    Deciding the man was the best shield she’d got, Carly hid behind him, but he made some rude comment, which prompted everyone to turn to look at them. And now Lorenzo was staring too!
     
    ‘Ah, there you are,’ Lorenzo said with satisfaction. ‘What’s this about?’ His dark gaze switched to the face of the other man, forcing a nervous laugh from him.
     
    ‘Perhaps you should ask your young lady—’
     
    ‘Perhaps I will,’ Lorenzo said icily. ‘Intending to take advantage of her, were you?’ he suggested.
     
    ‘Not at all! She came on to me—’
     
    ‘To you?’ Lorenzo’s raised brow was enough for some of his audience to start laughing.
     
    ‘Yes. I think she was trying to kiss me!’ Shock! Horror! ‘She doesn’t seem to appreciate the finer points of