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‘She has her own ex-boyfriends,’ Alessandro commented neutrally. ‘In fact, she regularly sees one of them—an investment banker who works in the city. It’s no big deal.’
‘I can’t believe you’re so…civilised…about your fiancée having a relationship with an ex, Alessandro. My, my, my…what’s happened to all that Italian possessiveness? I may have been jealous, but let’s not forget that you blew a fuse every time you saw me talking to one of my male friends from university.’
‘Like you said, Megan, an unhealthy place. How long have you known this football-coach character, anyway? Was he the reason you decided to move down to London? I suspected that a man must have been involved.’
‘I would never let a man influence any of my decisions,’ Megan told him scornfully. If he wanted to think that she and Robbie were involved, then why not let him? ‘I met Robbie after I came to London and he’s a great guy.’
‘A football coach?’
‘He’s more than just a football coach, Alessandro, and there’s no need to play the snob card. You weren’t always rich—in case you had forgotten!’
‘Ah, but I always knew I would be. There’s a difference between a man with ambition and a man who enjoys doing nothing with his life. Here’s a piece of advice for you, Megan—your football coach will age into an overweight ex-athlete; ask yourself whether you’ll find his lack of drive such a bundle of laughs then. Are you going to be happy serving him up his food on a tray in front of the television in the two-bedroom house you’ve stretched yourselves to buy? With a couple of kids squawking in the background?’
Alessandro didn’t know why he felt compelled to pour cold water on her relationship. He supposed that it sprang from the remnants of the feelings he’d once had for her, and a certain amount of guilty awareness that he had been, just maybe, a little harsh when he had dispatched her.
She didn’t answer, and her lack of response was like a red rag to a bull.
Couldn’t the woman see that he was being kind in pointing out the obvious?
‘What I choose to do with my life isn’t your concern, Alessandro. There’s the café. I can’t believe Robbie managed to persuade your fiancée to have a coffee in a place that serves bacon and eggs all day to lorry drivers and cabbies.’
Ahead of them, the café was bursting at the rafters. Once upon a time this would have been the kind of crowd he regularly mingled with, sitting in some half-baked café, ploughing into a bargain fry-up. Outside, a group of youths were larking around, wearing hoodies. It was like looking through a glass window at his past, and for a few mad seconds Alessandro felt the kick of nostalgia. He reached out and yanked Megan back.
‘The guy’s a loser,’ he said abruptly. ‘And I’m telling you this for your own good, Megan.’
‘You’ve never done anything for my own good, Alessandro!’
‘You wouldn’t last a minute with the kind of people I mix with.’
‘Would that be because I’m a loser as well?’
‘Dammit!’ He released her and raked frustrated fingers through his hair. He would have to stop doing this—touching her. ‘You know what I’m saying!’
‘Yes. I know you’re insulting me.’
They looked at each other, their eyes tangling in the darkness, and Alessandro drew his breath in sharply. Those lips—he wanted to crush their softness under his, wanted to sweep his hands under her jumper and lose himself in her glorious body. He pulled back, breathing thickly.
‘Not that it’s any of your business, but Robbie only does football coaching on the side! He’s studying for a law degree.’
Alessandro found that he preferred to think of the man as a loser. ‘Bit old for that, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Not everyone knows what they want to be from the age of ten! Robbie knows what he wants to be now, and he’s working bloody hard to get there! He’s going to get his law qualifications and work to help the little people. Those people who don’t have a voice, because they don’t have loads of money to employ lawyers who charge the earth.’
‘A do-gooder, in other words…’ His voice was laced with disdain, but he was sickeningly aware that that was just the sort of guy Megan would lose her head over.
‘Call it what you like.’
‘Are you in love with him?’
Megan didn’t answer that. Telling an outright lie was beyond her. She was deeply fond of Robbie, and admired his drive and his idealism, but they had never had that kind of relationship. And who the hell was Alessandro to even ask her that question? Did he think that he had a right to feel sorry for her? Because he had moved on? Found everything that he had been looking for? The right life with the right woman?
