Chapter 36


Weeks passed and true to Alessandro's word, the media eased off us in favour of some other, more interesting scandal. Unfortunately that scandal wasn't all that far from home as it focused back on Luca and Olivia's child. Now it was their names being splashed all over the tabloids. "Zingaro baby to another man's wife. What will the family think?"

In that time, Alessandro took it upon himself to show me off to the world true billionaire style, with dinners and expensive gifts, and lavish short getaways whenever work allowed it. And while his generosity held no bounds and I truly appreciated him for it, I knew I would have traded all of that for a chance to be able to just love him in peace. But for Alessandro I held onto his arm and smiled for the public whenever we went out. When we met with his society friends and associates, I looked my best and was always charming and friendly even as I watched the ponderous looks in their eyes. The speculation that this could never last. That I was merely a passing fancy Alessandro would soon tire of.

While Alessandro was working I divided my time between getting to know the household and exploring Rome in the company of my trusty bodyguard, Phil. With almost 3,000 years of history to get through, I found I could easily spend months trekking through the ancient city and I would still never touch the surface. Occasionally, Alessandro would join me for an afternoon when he started to feel like I was spending more time with Phil than with him. Using his influence he took me on private tours and to exclusive places that were normally closed to the general public. I also spoke to my mum every other day, telling her about my adventures and assuring her that I was having the time of my life as I tried not to miss home too much. Then, as the weather started to warm up and cloudy days turned into the perfect sunshine that Rome was most famous for, the social invitations arrived. A fashion show in Milan, a gala in Rome, even a weekend-long party cruising around the Mediterranean on a superyacht. And little did I realise how much more complicated my life was about to get.

I was hanging out with Alessandro's personal cook, Elena, in the kitchen, chatting away and practicing my Italian on her when I became aware of the figure standing in the doorway. Elena noticed him first and offered him a startled greeting.

"Signor Zingaro, my apologies, I did not see you. Is there anything I can help you with?"

I shot around from the pot of oil I was looking after. Alessandro was standing with his hands on his hips, eyeing me off with a quizzical frown.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said, waving a hand at Elena to indicate that I was the one he wanted to see. "I had to ask Gloria where you were." Then his eyes dropped to the fat ribbon of pasta dough I was in the process of slipping into the pot. "What are you doing?"

"Making crostoli," I said. Then signalled to my kitchen companion. "With Elena's supervision."

"Crostoli?" Alessandro's mouth pressed into a smile as he watched me scoop the crisp pasta from the oil several seconds later and place it down on a wire cooling rack next to the pot. When they cooled I would sprinkle them with a coating of icing sugar before revelling in their supreme deliciousness. "But it isn't even Carnival."

I snorted. "You don't need a celebration to eat crostoli. It should be freely enjoyed any time of the year." And there was the fact that my cravings for it were so strong it was literally all I could think about. Maybe it had something to do with my homesickness. Crostoli was the ultimate comfort food.

Coming up from behind, Alessandro snaked his hands around my waist and planted a soft kiss on my neck. "We're not in Venice, we're in Rome, cara. Here we call it frappe, and it's only one of my favourite treats. Are you trying to make me fat again?" He gave my ear a nibble and I giggled.

"Alessandro! I'll end up splashing hot oil on you if you're not careful."

I shot a sideways glance at Elena. The woman was pretending not to notice the commotion the master of the house and his lady were causing in her kitchen. She was about to begin dinner preparations for the evening.

"What are you doing home so early?" I asked Alessandro. "I thought you had meetings."

"My morning meetings are finished, but my final one of the day is being held here at the house where I expect you will be in attendance too."

"Oh..." I said, taking a quick glance down at my jeans and frumpy jumper. Then it dawned on me. "Oh! The fitting! That's today?"

"Mmmhmm," he husked. "Zefiro Azzara's jet left Milan about half an hour ago. He's on his way but you still have time. I suggest you freshen up and meet me in my office."

I finished cooking my crostoli and made a mad dash for the shower. I didn't care how long it took, I needed to be looking my best for one of the world's top fashion designers and his team. Alessandro and I were having a joint fitting after he had ordered a handful of tailor made suits and formal dresses in preparation for the social season. Forget walking the streets and trawling through fashion boutiques, this was next level clothes shopping and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little apprehensive. I didn't exactly live on a diet of celery and water as Zefiro's models from the fashion runway no doubt did.

By the time I made it to Alessandro's office, the designer along with an army of assistants had taken over, turning it from office into something akin to the changing room of a fashion show. Suit bags and racks stuffed full of clothing took up every inch of free space. Then standing front and centre stage, was the star model; Alessandro in his supreme gorgeousness. He casually sipped a coffee as the designer fussed about him. The older, much shorter man muttered to himself in Italian as he tugged at the sleeves and brushed off invisible lint from Alessandro's new suit, which had been tailored to fit his wide shoulders and narrow waist perfectly. As if a sixth sense had been triggered, Alessandro's head snapped around to meet me.

"Lisabetta." He referred to me by my Italian name as he often did around company, and waved a summoning hand, completely oblivious to the fact that right now he looked like a modern business-demi-god. "Come meet Zefiro Azzara."

The world famous fashion designer whose designs I often watched my cousin Dani fawn over in the glossy magazines when we were teens, stood up straight and gave me a quiet appraisal. Well into his fifties, his thick head of salt-and-pepper hair was styled to perfection. His outfit was a modern suit that had no-doubt been his own brainchild and fitted his small, slender frame like a glove. He looked at me like he already knew me even though before today we had never met. It was as though the measurements his assistants had gathered of me weeks before were all he needed to form a complete picture of me.

"Lisabetta," Zefiro said in that familiar socialite purr I had come to notice in Alessandro's associates. It made me think of the sort of friendliness that came with a potential knife in the back. He planted two kisses on each of my cheeks. "A classic Italian woman. Those hips are made for one thing and one thing only, cara. Well two things actually - getting your man into bed and making lots of bambini – babies."

Finally accustomed to receiving compliments that I was never really sure were compliments at all, I planted my usual charming smile on my face. "That sounds remarkably like something my Nonna would say."

The underhanded quip was not lost on Alessandro and he stifled an amused snort by taking a final gulp of his coffee. Zefiro frowned then brushed it off with the wave of his hand. He ordered his assistants to bring out the first of many gowns he'd been commissioned to design specifically for me. The pieces were beyond stunning. Unreal. There were gowns that flowed, there were fitted gowns, gowns that were splashed with ritzy colours and ones that were more muted and elegant. Every potential occasion in the social calendar had been catered for, every design and every piece carefully made to fit my body and make me look like... well... the wife of one of the wealthiest men in Italy if not the world.

Then there was Alessandro himself, looking supremely confident in his position. The mansions, the fast cars and luxury hotels, and so much money that he could never hope to spend it in this lifetime... This was all he knew. And yet, even now as I watched him smiling and humouring Zefiro by fake-chuckling at his gossip, I realised there was something about him that set him apart from the other millionaires and billionaires in his sphere. The people whose entire lives revolved around gloating about their money and their latest investments, and the many mistresses they kept. Alessandro was nothing like that. I mean sure, he could be arrogant and held that air of authority that only came with the mega-rich. He expected mountains to be moved for him, but yet when that didn't happen he wasn't one to throw hissy fits like I had seen some of his associates do when things like the wrong wine had been delivered to the table or the valet took too long. He was a thinker. A problem solver more interested in a job getting done well rather than quickly. And regarding that air of aloofness and mystery that I noticed women especially found alluring... Well they would be disappointed to find it was less him playing the part of proud, high ranking socialite and more likely him pondering over something like a history paper on some archaeological dig that he'd read that morning. He was like a closet nerd, sexy billionaire edition... and... wait... was Zefiro flirting with him?

My jaw clenched. Well that wasn't cool, I was standing right here!

But it was hard to miss the way his eyes never left Alessandro, especially when he stripped down to his undies and socks in preparation for trying on his next suit. In fact, he had everyone in the room captivated. No surprises there, his body was perfection personified, stretch marks from his years of being overweight and all.

"You could have those laser-removed, caro." It seemed the stretch marks weren't lost on Zefiro and Alessandro straightened when the fashion designer ran a gentle finger over his hip that jutted over the edge of his form-fitting boxer briefs. Honestly, I couldn't fault Zefiro's inability to resist the temptation to touch him. If that was me standing over there, I'd be running my mouth all over Alessandro's body right about now. Just then I watched something die in Alessandro's eyes. His nostrils flared and I suddenly found myself fearing for Zefiro's job. He had crossed a line.

"They are fine," Alessandro basically hissed through gritted teeth. He was rigid like he'd been when I'd caught Lydia stroking his chest. The dagger look he gave the other man hinted at the fact that he was happily settled in a relationship and therefore not interested in any other flirtations. I felt a wave of pride well in my chest. It was more than clear where Alessandro's loyalties lay.

Zefiro took it all with a nod and a shrug, carrying on with the fitting like nothing had happened.

A few hours later and the fitting finished. Notes were made on any adjustments required and outfits were packed away either in the numerous carry bags that Zefiro brought with him or sent up stairs to the master bedroom closet. Zefiro scolded me on my bust that had either been measured inaccurately (not likely according to him) or had grown in size since his assistant's visit and I felt grieved by the idea that I'd put on weight since moving here. I didn't feel like I had but then again a diet of eating at Michelin-starred restaurants probably wasn't the best for my waistline either, especially as I'd worked so hard to lose the weight. I was no longer obese, I was healthy and I wanted to stay that way.

The evening was warm enough to eat outside for once, so Alessandro and I ate on the balcony. The gardens were practically in full bloom now, the warmer, springtime weather providing a boost for the plants and flowers that resurrected after the cool of winter. The air was perfumed with a multitude of fragrances, stemming from a mix of the gardens below us and the small vase of flowers decorating our table. A single candle lit the space between us in soft orange.

"Is everything ok, Lizzie?"

I snapped up at Alessandro's quiet husk and found my gaze crashing into his candle-lit face partly cast in shadows. The lighting made his features look exaggerated and angular.

"Hm?" I said forcing myself not to be distracted by how dangerously sexy he looked.

"You haven't touched your food."

"Oh..." I placed the fork down on my plate. There was no point in pretending to eat. "I guess I'm not hungry." Especially when my insides turned at the thought of food. I forced a smirk. "Must've been all the crostoli earlier."

I watched Alessandro's jaw tighten, his eyes piercing into me like he knew what I was thinking. "You're not putting on weight, cara. Zefiro's comments were uncalled for."

I shrugged and took a sip of wine, feigning indifference. "He's a top fashion designer. He deals with stick thin models on a daily basis. I don't blame him for his opinions."

"Well they are wrong," huffed Alessandro. "And I will show you tonight like I love to show you every night, how beautiful you are."

I warmed at the thought, my nipples, which were already sore enough, hardening against my bra. Oh he was good. "But you can't deny the fact that my boobs have gotten bigger." I said, my voice straining through the instant-arousal. Damn him and his evil love spells. He was a warlock. "My bras don't fit as well."

He shrugged. "I'll buy you new ones."

I deadpanned. "Money isn't the solution to everything, you know. I have so much lingerie now it will take me a year just to cycle through it all."

Unfortunately Alessandro seemed to have stopped listening after my mention of lingerie. A dangerous glint formed in his eyes and he grinned, his thoughts visibly going to that place in the male mind that connected with his penis.

"Like what you wore for me last night." Then he frowned. "You're right, you were practically bursting from your bra. It was extremely sexy."

He dropped his fork and then, much to my surprise, scooted his chair around the table to sit next to me and grabbed my boobs. I gasped, wanting to be indignant but it was a little difficult to concentrate when suddenly every part of me sizzled under his touch. He made a point of brushing my already very oversensitive nipples through my top and I choked on a moan.

"Alessandro, what are you doing?" I rasped. I wanted to resist him. Truly! But I was already leaning toward his lips, the pool of need forming between my legs. God he smelled so good I could just eat him.

"I think you and Zefiro might be right," he said after a moment of stern deliberation with my cleavage. My lips brushed his and he responded with a distracted kiss. "Your breasts are bigger."

I snapped back at that. "So I am putting on weight."

Even despite all of the evidence however, Alessandro didn't look convinced. He shook his head. "Lizzie, what I'm trying to say is; when was your last period?"

I sucked in a breath so fast that I practically choked on my own saliva.

"Not since..." I tried to think back through the weeks but they all seemed to blur into one. How long had I been here? Had I even had a period since I'd been in Rome? I swallowed, going instantly still in my seat. My throat locked up and I found I couldn't speak.

It didn't matter. Alessandro knew the answer to his own question. "Not since Hawaii..."