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‘Did you think I would, Alicia?’
And as she looked over at him the cruel deserter and the lavish playboy seemed to fade, leaving just Dante, the man who had once been her friend.
She’d missed him so.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘At least not the Dante I knew. But, as you said, perhaps things weren’t as good as I recall...’
‘I was very cross this morning.’
‘Yes.’
‘If you wanted something you could have called, or written, or...’ He watched as she closed her eyes. ‘You could have called out when I passed you in the foyer.’
‘You were with someone, Dante. I don’t think she would have appreciated it.’
‘Fair enough.’
And still he could surprise her, for he was suddenly kind.
‘How have you been?’ he asked. ‘I really would like to know.’
‘Busy,’ she said. ‘Working, mainly.’
‘No husband?’
‘I would hope not, after this morning.’
He smiled at her response. ‘How many broken hearts have you left behind, Alicia?’
‘Fewer than you, I’m sure,’ she retorted.
‘You know, for someone so beautiful there is so much venom in you.’
Her throat caught. He had called her beautiful as if he meant it, and maybe he did. He had always made her feel so. ‘There’s no venom.’ She shook her head.
‘Yes, there is,’ he refuted. ‘Why?’
She ran her tongue over her lips, unsure how to answer this very direct question. Truly unsure if she should.
Dante hazarded a guess, wasting no time in getting to the point. ‘I told you I was leaving that night. I told you it was a one-off.’
‘You did.’
‘I didn’t leave you pregnant?’ He frowned. ‘I know I took care, but if...’
‘Dante...’ her top lip curled just a little in a sneer ‘...it wouldn’t have taken me ten years to find you if you had. I would not have allowed my baby to starve while you played fast and loose with your tarts...’
‘Tut-tut,’ he said. ‘That’s not a nice way to speak, Alicia.’
No. It wasn’t.
‘I take that back.’
‘Good,’ he said, and took up his wine. ‘Let’s try and keep this civil.’
The waiter draped a white serviette over her lap but did not approach Dante. Alicia had never eaten in such a place, and wondered if the serviette treatment was just for women, or the aura that surrounded Dante silently warned that he wanted no contact.
He’d always been like that.
