Alec caught her eye across the table and arched a brow. “Marta, I think my lovely wife wants some.”

Her heart spiked at the word wife. “Oh, no. I can’t—”

“Even bigger than mine.” He gestured to the meat pie and then to Lottie.

Marta gave him a conspiratorial nod and whispered something. Alec flashed the woman a smile and shook his head, but a faint blush stained his cheeks. Marta laughed as she moved to cut Lottie an even bigger piece. Before today, the woman must have smiled a grand total of twice in Lottie’s presence. But then Alec always had that effect on people. Lottie envied that about him, even now. Even though it was all artifice.

He smiled warmly at her over his full plate, the candlelight bathing his rich olive skin in an alluring glow.

Anyone looking in on them would think this was real. Anyone.

Don’t ever forget that.

“For the bambino,” Marta pronounced as she slapped a hefty slice down.

Lottie jumped and clasped her hand to her chest. “Yes, thank you,” she said absently. “It smells wonderful.”

Marta shot Alec a knowing look. “See? Una donna sa sempre queste cose.” Then she patted Lottie’s shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen.

Lottie turned back to Alec. “What did she say?”

“‘A woman always knows,’” he murmured.

Lottie furrowed her brow, but Alec didn’t explain further. He managed a few more bites before he threw down his napkin and pushed his chair back from the table. “If I eat any more, I will burst. And I doubt Marta will appreciate the mess.”

“No, she would not.” Lottie had known this moment would come all evening, and yet her hands still began to tremble. She set down her fork before Alec could notice.

“Besides,” he began, “we should leave as early as possible tomorrow.”

Lottie glanced up at the sound of his chair scraping back. Alec took his time approaching her end of the table. His heavy steps echoed as ominously as they had earlier that day, until he loomed over her; it put her in mind of a big cat toying with his prey.

“Come to bed, Contessa.”

Her breath caught at the honorific. Death by a thousand Lotties suddenly seemed merciful. “Is…is Marta still watching?”

“Not at present. But that could change any moment.” His eyes remained fixed on her, his face sphinxlike, while he held out his palm. An offering. The candlelight flickered against his bare skin. How many times had she grabbed it so carelessly as a girl, never understanding the power in such a gesture?

He raised an eyebrow at her hesitation. “And a man escorts a lady from a room, especially his wife.” He added, with a hint of challenge, “Surely you can endure something so trivial.”

“Of course,” she scoffed, sliding her palm against his. It was larger now, and the skin was rougher, but she felt that bone-deep spark of recognition again.

As she rose to her feet, Alec placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Lottie flinched at the powerful warmth rising from him; it instantly penetrated the layers of their clothing to caress the bare skin of her arm before spreading lower. Alec’s dark gaze bore into hers, the candlelight still lapping at the sharp angles of his devastating face. “Do you really hate me that much?” The question was practically a whisper, almost as if he were speaking to himself.