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possibly cover up that reality rather than hurt Holly’s feelings by admitting his ignorance.

      She was so vulnerable sometimes. He saw that sensitivity in her and marvelled that she retained it even after all the disappointments life had faced her with. His primary role was to protect Holly from hurt and disillusionment. He didn’t want her to lose her innocence. He didn’t want her to turn cynical or bitter. But most of all he never ever wanted to be the man who disillusioned her.

      ‘Glad you like the dress,’ Holly said a tad woodenly. ‘Shall we sit down?’

      ‘I’m no match for your elegance without a shower and a change of clothes,’ Vito pointed out with a slight line dividing his black brows into the beginnings of a frown because her odd behaviour was frustrating him.

      ‘Please sit down. We’ll have a drink,’ Holly suggested, because she had laid that photo of Marzia and him at his place at the table and she was keen for him to see it before she lost her nerve at confronting him in what was starting to feel a little like a badly planned head-on collision.

      Maybe she should have been less confrontational and given him warning. Only not if the price of that was Vito coming up with a polite story that went nowhere near the actual truth. She didn’t believe he would lie to her but he wouldn’t want to upset her and he would pick and choose words to persuade her in a devious way that her concerns were nonsensical.

      Vito was on the edge of arguing until he glimpsed the photo, and its appearance was so unexpected that it stupefied him. He stared down at the photo of himself dancing with Marzia in wonderment while Silvestro poured his wine. Why were they apparently celebrating this inappropriate photograph with rose petals scattered across the table and the finest wine? His frown of incomprehension deepened.

      ‘What is this?’ he demanded with an abruptness that startled Holly as he swept up the photo.

      Consternation gripped Holly because he didn’t sound puzzled, he sounded downright angry. ‘I wanted to ask you to explain that picture,’ she muttered warily.

      ‘So you set me up with some sort of a romantic dinner and tell me I can’t have a shower? And sit me down with a photo of my ex?’ Vito exclaimed incredulously. ‘This is more than a little weird, Holly!’

      Legs turning wobbly as she encountered scorching dark golden eyes of enquiry, Holly dropped reluctantly down into her chair. ‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to get it over with and I wanted you to say exactly what’s on your mind.’

      ‘Weird!’ Vito repeated with an emphatic lack of inhibition, crumpling the photo into a ball of crushed paper and firing it into the fire burning merrily across the room. ‘Where did you get that photograph from and when did you see it?’

      Holly sketched out the details, her heart beating very fast. She hadn’t expected to feel guilty but now she did because taking Vito by surprise had only annoyed him.

      ‘Today?’ Vito stressed in astonishment. ‘But that photo is at least three years old!’

      ‘Three years old...’ Holly’s voice trailed off as she studied him in disbelief.

      ‘It was taken at our engagement party. Why on earth would it be printed again now?’ he questioned.

      Holly scrambled out of her seat and pelted off to find the magazine she had cut the photo from. Reappearing, she planted it into Vito’s outstretched hand while Silvestro struggled to set out the first course of the meal.

      ‘Per l’amor di Dio...’ Vito groaned. ‘You need to learn to read Italian!’

      ‘It’s not going to happen overnight,’ she grumbled.

      ‘That photo was quite cleverly utilised to symbolise the fact that I have now cut my ties to the Ravello Investment Bank,’ Vito framed in flat explanation. ‘Note the way our hands are pictured apart...’

      ‘What does the Ravello Bank have to do with anything? What ties?’

      ‘Marzia is a Ravello,’ Vito informed her drily. ‘When we got engaged I agreed to act as an investment adviser to the Ravello Bank. When Marzia ditched me her father begged me to retain the position as Ravello was going through a crisis and my resignation would have created talk and blighted their prospects even more.’

      Holly blinked. She had become very pale. ‘I had no idea you had any business links to Marzia and her family.’

      ‘As of yesterday I don’t. I resigned the position and they have hired the man I recommended to take my place. Once you and I were married it no longer felt appropriate for Marzia’s family and mine to retain that business link,’ Vito pointed out wryly.

      Holly had been blindsided by an element of Vito’s former relationship with Marzia that she could not have known about. A business connection, not a personal one. ‘You know, I assumed that that was a recent picture of you with Marzia,’ Holly confided. ‘I thought that dinner you mentioned last week must have been a dinner dance.’

      ‘Had it been I would have taken you with me or bowed out early to get home to you. As it was I was landed with a group of visiting government representatives, whose company I found as exciting as watching paint dry,’ Vito told her drily and pushed back his chair. ‘May I have my shower now?’

      ‘No, we can’t just abandon dinner!’ Holly breathed in dismay. ‘Not when Francisco has gone to so much trouble to make us a memorable meal.’

      ‘So, you’ve been down to the kitchen and have finally met our chef?’ Vito gathered in some amusement.

      ‘Yes, he’s a real charmer, isn’t he?’

      ‘I’m sure he can reheat the food,’ Vito pronounced impatiently.

      ‘But we haven’t finished talking yet,’ Holly protested, all her expectations thrown by Vito’s eminently down-to-earth explanation of that photo and its meaning.

      ‘Why are you dressed as though you’re about to attend a costume ball?’ Vito shot at her.

      Holly went red. ‘I wanted to show you that if I made the effort I could polish up and look all glam like Marzia.’

      Vito groaned out loud. ‘You look amazing but I don’t want you to look all glam like Marzia.’

      ‘But you bought me all those fancy clothes...’

      ‘Only to cover every possible occasion. And when would you have bothered going shopping?’ Vito enquired drily. ‘You hate shopping for clothes.’

      Holly compressed her lips. ‘You don’t like me glammed up? Or you don’t want me copying Marzia?’

      ‘Both,’ Vito told her levelly as he signalled Silvestro and rose from his chair again. ‘I like you just to be yourself. You’re never fake. I hate fake. But why did you think I would be out dancing any place with Marzia?’

      ‘What are you doing?’ Holly gasped as he scooped her bodily out of her seat.

      ‘I’m going for my after-work shower and you’re either coming in with me, which would sacrifice all the effort you have gone to, or you’re waiting in bed for me,’ Vito informed her cheerfully.

      ‘I thought you still cared for Marzia,’ Holly finally confessed on the way up the stairs. ‘I thought you might still love her.’

      Vito grunted with effort as he reached the landing. ‘I can carry you upstairs but I can’t talk while I’m doing it,’ he confided. ‘I never loved Marzia.’

      ‘But you got engaged to her... You lived with her!’

      ‘Yes, and what an eye-opening experience that was!’ Vito admitted, thrusting wide the door of their bedroom. ‘I asked her to marry me in the first place because she was everything my grandfather told me I should look for in a wife. I wasn’t in love with her and when we lived together I discovered that we had nothing in common. I don’t want to dance the night away as if I’m still in my twenties but Marzia

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