HIDDEN SECRETS

ITALIAN LOVERS SERIES BOOK 2

AVERY NORTH
 C O NT E NT S

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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Afterword
Reviews
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Stay in Touch With Avery North
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 Hidden Secrets © 2020 by Avery North

All Rights Reserved

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information
storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short
excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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 OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

L isted below are other books in the series by Avery North:

Italian Lovers Series:

Coffee Love: ( Book 1)
Hidden Secrets: ( Book 2)
The Revelation: ( Book 3)
Blind Jealousy: ( Book 4)
Unexpected Attraction: ( Book 5)
Forever Love: ( Book 6)

Above is the recommended reading order for Italian Lovers Series.

 A LSO BY A VERY NORTH

L isted below are more books by Avery North. All of the books are currently available to read
FREE in Kindle Unlimited”

Boxsets:
Romance At The Spa: Eden Spa Series
Chiltern Hotel Series
Riad Dubois Series

Darlington Brothers Series:

Lucas: ( Book 1)
Jason: ( Book 2)
Logan: ( Book 3)
Tristan: ( Book 4)
Tyler: ( Book 5)
Joey: ( Book 6)
Rebel: ( Book 7)

Riad Dubois Series:

Exotic Allure: ( Book 1)
Unexpected Passion: ( Book 2)
Finding Freedom: ( Book 3)
Endless Desire: ( Book 4)
Another Chance: ( Book 5)

Eden Spa Series:

Seduction At The Spa: ( Book 1)
Reconciliation At The Spa: ( Book 2)
 Devotion At The Spa: ( Book 3)
Production At The Spa: ( Book 4)
Redemption At The Spa: ( Book 5)
Rejuvenation At The Spa: ( Book 6)

Chiltern Hotel Series:

Breaking Barriers: ( Book 1)
Breaking Christmas Traditions: (Book 2)
Breaking Liberty: (Book 3)
Breaking Rules: (Book 4)
Breaking Promises: (Book 5)
Breaking Boundaries: (Book 6)
 CHAPTER 1

R ushing through the security gates at Rome airport, Alessandro waved to Lorenzo one last
time. “That is what friends are for,” was all Lorenzo had said when Alessandro tried to
thank him for rescuing him from his father’s house in Naples. Alessandro didn’t have
many friends who would have come to his rescue as quickly as Lorenzo had or as fearlessly.
Alessandro still wasn’t sure if Lorenzo really understood the significance of what he had done. But
then, Lorenzo’s family had avoided the stain of being connected to the Mafia underworld.
Maybe that was why he and his textile merchant father had been able to breeze so easily into the
house in Naples, unaware of or refusing to recognize the danger that lurked there. Fastening his seat
belt, Alessandro shuddered again as he imagined what might have happened if Lorenzo hadn’t been
able to help him.
Christ, right now, he would be getting engaged to Nina Romano and resigning himself to a life in
Italy, a life with no possibility of seeing Gianna ever again. Gianna. Even thinking of her name
banished the horrors of the past days. Soon he would see her again, and this time he would hold her in
his arms and never let her go.

Gianna had gone to the café at lunchtime, hoping desperately that Alessandro would be there. But he
wasn't, and she hadn't received any more texts from him. She was beginning to doubt she would ever
see him again. Leaving the office for home that evening, she resisted the temptation to return to the
café to check for him again.
He was curled up in a ball on the step outside her building when she eventually got home.
“Alessandro! I didn't know you were coming back. Why didn't you call me? Oh, Alessandro!”
She reached down to lift him to his feet. Looking up at him standing over her, she took in his
drawn face.
“Are you ok, Alessandro?” she asked, swiping her key card and leading the way to the elevator.
“Yes, I am just tired, but I had a good sleep on the flight and thought I would come around to see
you if that's OK?"
“Of course.”
They reached her penthouse, and when they stepped inside, she heard him gasp.
“This is amazing! How long have you lived here?”
“Since I came to New York. My family owns it. But don't think I live rent-free because my mother
keeps a tight rein on the books." She laughed, taking a bottle of wine from the fridge and putting
glasses on the table.
“Have you eaten?” she asked. “I can get us some take-away from the place on the corner.”
“Sounds great, as long as it’s not Italian.”
She looked at him, surprised. "Did you really have too much Italian food while you were away?”
“Yes, far too much. Let's just have something different. Maybe, one of those big steaks and lots of
fries.”
Laughing, she picked up her mobile to order.
“Are you back at work tomorrow?” she asked when she had placed the order.
Alessandro shook his head, “Yes, I have to. I would love to take a few days off to re-adjust to
being back in America and to recover from the jet lag, but I have been away for too long.”
“Of course, jet lag is terrible. I don't mean to pry, but how was your family at the funeral?”
“OK. It wasn't easy, but she had a good life.”
“I searched online for the funeral details, but I couldn't find anything. I had hoped to maybe send
flowers.”
“That was kind of you,” he answered automatically. “I think my father placed an announcement in
the local paper. That may be why you couldn't find anything.” Her remark had shaken him a little.
What if she discovered his secret?
“Did you get to see your grandmother before she died?”
He shook his head. “No, she died while I was traveling.”
“I'm so sorry. I know how much she meant to you.”
The concern in her eyes pulled at his heartstrings. For a moment, he thought that revealing
everything would be comforting, especially to someone who cared. There had been very little to take
comfort from during his time in Italy. But could he take the risk of unfolding the full story to Gianna?
He knew so little about her, and he couldn't really be sure how she would react.
And if her family owned this apartment, she must come from a seriously wealthy family, a family
who had inherited from wealthy ancestors or made their money through wise investments. It was
unlikely, he thought cynically, that they had made their money through criminal activities. Even his bad
luck couldn't be so cruel as to throw him into the arms of another mobster’s daughter just as he’d
escaped marriage to Nina Romano.
Looking at her, he said, “What about you? You look like you’re about to go somewhere nice. I like
that dress.” The smart black dress was elegant and flattered her figure.
She laughed. “I’ve actually just come from work. Charlotte, my colleague, talked me into
reviewing some stuff.”
“Your Charlotte sounds like fun. Perhaps I could meet her sometime?”
“Sure, she is fun. She likes Marco’s, so I can introduce you two when we're next there.”
“Have you been there while I was away?”
"Yes, you got my text. I was very disappointed with the coffee and that they didn't give me a
Florentine.”
He smiled. His coffee certainly seemed to have been the way to win her heart.
“And did you think any more about the restaurant you want to open while you were in Italy?”
“Not really. Memories of Grandma are still too fresh to make me want to think about that right
now.”
She looked at him, understanding in her dark eyes.
“Yes.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently
 When she looked into his face again, she saw the tears welling up in his eyes.
“Oh, Alessandro, it’s OK to cry, you know.”
“Thanks, Gianna. I needed to hear that.”
“Losing your grandmother must have been like losing your mother.” He had told her how his
grandmother had raised him like her own since his mother’s death.
Alessandro wiped his eyes quickly. This was too much. If she only knew why he was really
crying.
“Yes, but let's talk about more positive things. How did you get on with that acquisition’s deal?”
“Great. Your advice worked perfectly,” she said animatedly. “I could see how impressed my boss
was when he saw what I had put together. You must tell me more about that area when we have time.
You seem to have learned more about business in Italy than I did at my expensive university.”
"Mine was more of a hands-on type of learning. But if it worked, it must have been good.”
His jetlag seemed to be getting better. He was happy now that he hadn't gone straight to bed when
he got back. Seeing Gianna had been the tonic he had needed.
Suddenly it felt really good to be back. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed her and
America during all the chaos in Naples.
"Maybe when we have eaten, you would like to go out? Go to a club, perhaps?"
She shook her head. “No, I don't want to go clubbing. If I'm honest, I'm not really into the clubbing
scene.”
“I'm not surprised. You don't strike me as a clubbing sort of girl,” Alessandro admitted. “I very
rarely go clubbing, but actually, I've never tried it in America. Perhaps we could try it sometime?”
“Well, that would be fun. But perhaps tonight we could just stay in and have something to eat?
Listen to some music? I think I have some more good wine stashed away somewhere.”
“Sounds good.” He watched her as she rose to set the table, still admiring how the black dress
skimmed her figure.
“Need a hand?”
“Sure, you choose the music. Just pick something from my collection that you like and put it on.”
Alessandro smiled when he saw the pile of records next to the old-school record player. He
hadn’t taken her as the record kind of gal. He had imagined her with a state-of-the-art tablet and smart
sound system. But this was good too, better even.
“Wow,” he said, flipping through the record sleeves. “You certainly haven't forgotten your Italian
roots. Do you really listen to Pavarotti when you are here on your own?”
“Yes, I do. It reminds me of home.”
“I didn't bring any of mine. You are going to have to show me where to shop for some decent
records.”
She seemed happy that he shared her passion for the retro style.
“Sure, next time you're off at the weekend, we can go to the record shop down the road. It has an
amazing collection of LPs.”
“That sounds like a date.” He was surprised to hear himself using the word “date.”
“Doesn’t it?” Her smile was radiant.
She moved to answer the intercom when it buzzed. “That sounds like our steaks arriving.”
As they ate their steaks, they listened to Pavarotti and enjoyed the wine she had produced from the
kitchen.
“This is good,” Alessandro commented, dipping a French fry into some ketchup.
He rose to put another record on. “You sure like your classical music. There is something by
Puccini here. We can try that?”
She nodded. Puccini was good. She took in his lithe form as he bent over the record player. He
sure had been through a difficult few days, but as the evening progressed, she had noticed him
becoming more relaxed. Yes, he would be OK, and she would be OK too, now that he was back. She
had to admit that Charlotte had been right.
Thinking of Charlotte brought a smile to her face. She wondered whether she was still enjoying
Angelo's company; she had told Gianna that they were going clubbing again, which made two nights
in a row. When things went wrong, Gianna knew she would have to be the person to help Charlotte
pick up the pieces of her broken heart. But tonight, she wasn't going to worry about that.
Tonight was about Alessandro and herself, and no one else.
She looked across the table at him as the strains of opera filled the apartment. She noticed
Alessandro putting a hand to his eyes. When he looked at her again, she noticed his eyes welling up
with tears again.
“I'm sorry, Gianna. Grandma always played Puccini when she was cooking.”
She gave him a concerned look, "Oh, Alessandro, you must miss your Grandmother terribly.”
He nodded. Yes, he did miss her terribly, despite everything his father had told him. But he still
wasn’t ready to share all of the details with Gianna. And she certainly couldn’t know about the run in
he had had with his father.
"Have you cried for her? I mean, really cried and shared your grief with someone?"
He shook his head. “No. Gianna, you know Italian funerals. You have to meet people and keeping
up appearances. There's not a lot of space for crying.”
He attempted a laugh.
Gianna rose from her side of the table and put her arms around his shoulders. “You have to cry,
Alessandro. If you don't let it out, it will fester inside and burn you up.”
“How did you get to be so wise?” he asked through his tears.
"I lost my father when I was a child. I didn't cry either for a long time, but when I did eventually,
it felt better. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, Alessandro. I learned from that experience.”
She was now on her knees beside him. “Don't do that to yourself. She meant a lot to you. So, cry
for her.”
Pushing back the dishes on the table, she took his hand and led him to the couch.
“We can finish eating later, but for now, tell me all about her. What did she look like? Did she
have any funny habits? Hey, did she even do something that annoyed you?"
 CHAPTER 2

A lessandro had come to Gianna’s apartment, hoping to have a romantic evening together.
Instead, he was sat on the couch, her arms around him, his head on her shoulder, as he told
her about funny incidents that had happened when he was a child and gave in to more bouts
of crying.
Somehow during the evening, he forgot about the bad parts, the stuff he had discovered in Italy.
Once again, his grandma was the woman who had raised him, the woman who had taught him how to
cook and helped him when he was having trouble in school. By the end of the evening, he found
himself almost forgiving her. But forgiving his father would take a lot longer.
“And you know,” Gianna said, “She may have done things that you prefer not to think about …”
At her words, he stiffened for a moment.
“That’s just something I learned after my dad died. Nobody’s perfect, and we all make mistakes.
Tomorrow, you can start remembering your grandmother’s mistakes, and that’s OK too. Because she
was human, and she seems to have been a lovely person whatever mistakes she may have made.”
“Yes, she was.” He nodded. “Gianna, thank you so much for this.”
"Now, let's decide what we're going to do with the food. Do you think reheating those steaks is a
good idea?"
"Of course." He rose to his feet. "Let me do it. I'll apply some of my magic to them, and this time,
you take charge of the music. Something a bit more modern. You probably have that in your collection
too?”
“Yes, I do. I’ll put on some rock and roll. OK? And don't forget we’re going to that store on
Saturday.”
He laughed as he put the steaks on the plate.
Once they had eaten the steaks, she curled up beside him on the sofa, rock and roll playing quietly
in the background.
“It is good to have you back in Manhattan.”
“And it’s good to be back.” He put an arm around her. Tilting her chin, he looked into her dark
eyes. “I think I am seriously falling for you. When I got back, I just wanted to come here, to see you
and talk to you.”
“I actually missed you too. It wasn’t the same when you were away.” She laughed. “Charlotte took
me to a club because she thought I was pining away for you.”
“And were you?” he asked teasingly, his face temptingly close to hers.
“Perhaps,” she breathed, as his lips brushed hers and his arm tightened around her.
“Perhaps?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he pulled away.
 “You know I was,” she said breathlessly.
Exhilarated at finding out she had missed him, Alessandro leaned forward and kissed her more
forcefully, as he felt she really wanted to be kissed. His lips parted hers, and his tongue joined with
hers and probed deep in her mouth. He loved how she kissed. Her kisses were long and deep, her
arms tight around his neck, her hands stroking his hair, then his earlobes, before venturing down to his
neck.
Holding her close while they kissed, he felt he wanted this passionate woman in his life forever.
At this moment, he wanted her in the bedroom. But no. It was too soon for that. They were only getting
to know one another. Some weeks ago, he had been just the guy who served her coffee, hoping
someday that she would notice the special effort he was making. Tonight, he had her in his arms, and
something was telling him life would never again be the same. An inner voice told him he would be
seeing a lot more of Gianna in the future.

Gianna lay awake long after Alessandro had left. They had spent the rest of the evening on the couch
together, arms around one another, listening to music, kissing occasionally. Sometimes they had
shared memories of Italy, at other times, their impressions of New York.
Sometime during the night, she had realized that this was probably the deepest conversation she
had had with anyone since arriving in America. True, there had been dates and a couple of one-night
affairs, but she had never been tempted to meet the man again.
Would she see him again? Of course, she would see him at Marco’s or on their next date on
Saturday. But would she have another chance to lie in his arms, swapping kisses and memories? She
had to. Life, she felt, would be a very bleak experience if that didn’t happen again.

He woke up at eight the next morning. He got back from Gianna's at 2 am, and he really felt like lying
in, but he didn't have time to stay in bed. He had missed too much time at work and had promised he
would drop in as soon as he got back. Grabbing his bathrobe from the back of a chair, he walked to
the kitchen.
Christ, the air in here is musty, he thought. Throwing open the windows, he looked around the
room and realized that it was nowhere near as elegant as Gianna’s apartment, but he liked it,
nonetheless.
He was enjoying the freedom of being back in his own place. In Italy, he had been too restricted
by everything going on and by the fear of meeting people who knew more than he did about his family.
And afraid of his own family as well and the power they thought they had over him. At least here in
the Big Apple, he was free to make his own choices.
He shuddered when he thought of how his father had wanted him to marry that winemaker's
daughter. That would have been a disaster and tied him to the Mafia forever.
If Lorenzo hadn’t given him the courage to stand up to his father, he would have said goodbye to
his freedom forever and missed seeing Gianna again. That was unthinkable. Waiting for the coffee to
brew, he remembered her whispered words when he left her apartment.
“See you at Marco’s. Don't forget to give me biscuits with my coffee, and don't forget we're going
shopping at the record store on Saturday to get you some music.”
He didn't really want to go back to Marco's and continue making coffee in the way his
grandmother had taught him, but if Gianna wanted him there, he would go back. At least at Marco's,
he would get to see her every day.
Waiting for his coffee, he remembered the sweet taste of her lips under his and the way her body
had molded itself to his as they entwined on the couch. Next time, maybe they would sleep with one
another. That thought made him shiver with anticipation.
But now, he had to get to work and get that part of his life in order again. And he had to work;
otherwise, how could he explain the money he was spending? He didn't need people knowing about
the money he had stashed away.

In her penthouse, Gianna was brewing coffee as well. Seeing Alessandro had lifted the cloud of
gloom that had surrounded her for the past week. She could only hope he would recover from losing
his grandmother, but at least he had cried and poured his heart out.
Taking her outfit from the wardrobe, she found herself already looking forward to her mid-
morning coffee. And, of course, she would have to meet Charlotte and would undoubtedly be treated
to a blow-by-blow account of her night with Angelo.
And naturally, she would have to fend off queries about how she had spent the night. Well, she
could tell Charlotte a few small details, but opening her heart to office gossip was something she
didn't usually do.
Pouring herself a coffee, Gianna thought again about the amazing night she had spent with
Alessandro. Until then, she had been interested in him, but this morning she could feel herself falling
in love, something she hadn't allowed herself to do for quite some time.
She had loved the softness in his face when he talked about his grandmother. That was something
Gianna could easily understand. She had been close to her grandmother too.
Talking to him had opened her mind to making a return trip home. She had not realized how much
she missed the place. Listening to his accounts of people and descriptions of the funeral had actually
made her homesick. Perhaps that was something she would do later in the year.
She owed it to her mother to make an effort to return home, even if just for a short time, and
maybe she owed it to herself as well.
She had left in a hurry after graduation; her heart split in two by the man she had been dating.
Perhaps the time had come to forget about all that. She thought of all the nights she had planned on
getting her revenge on him. Well, that was happening by accident now.
Meeting Charlotte might show Angelo how he should treat a woman, Gianna thought. Maybe she
would go back home with Alessandro … Advising herself to stop dreaming about the impossible; she
finished her coffee. She and Alessandro had only met up twice, and already she was planning a life
with him. "You are too practical for this nonsense, Gianna,” she told herself.
Putting the cup in the dishwasher, she grabbed her coat. She was already running late for work
and would have to grab something to eat in the canteen. That would mean having yet another muffin.
She had been trying to control her addiction to the canteen muffins, but they were too delicious.
Having one this morning would mean a serious workout when she got back from the office.
 CHAPTER 3

T he manager welcomed Alessandro back with open arms.

“Hey, how are you doing? We've missed you around here. Great to have you back.
Two of the other waiters have gone to work with the competition, so we'll be
depending on you to charm the customers." Slapping Alessandro on the back, he said, "Back to work,
pal."
Putting on his apron and grabbing a cloth, Alessandro reflected that the manager wasn't a bad sort,
especially when you thought about the pressure he was working under. Alessandro had seen how hard
it was to turn a profit in this market. His mind drifted again to the kind of restaurant he wanted to
open. A specialty restaurant, serving only Italian food, would have a better chance of success than a
place like Marco's where all types of food were served.
Wiping down the table, he stopped in his tracks. On his way back from Italy, he had decided that
he wasn't going to open a restaurant. This line of thought must be down to Gianna's influence if he was
thinking again about the establishment he was going to open. She was certainly having an effect on
him.
He cast his mind back to the previous evening and to the kindness she had shown when he had let
his grief take over, and how good she had looked in that figure-hugging black dress.
She had certainly been right in what she had said about grief. The crying spell that he had initially
thought was unmanly had certainly left him feeling better this morning.
Feeling a tingle of anticipation, he looked at his watch. It was only 10, the café was currently
empty, and most mid-morning customers wouldn't appear for another hour and a half, and the tables
were ready. Stepping outside for a breath of fresh air, he took his phone from his pocket.
One missed call, an Italian number. It had to be his father. Why would his father be calling him so
early in the morning? Checking his watch again, Alessandro realized he was getting the time wrong
because it was actually 4 pm in Italy. His screen lit up as the Italian number called again. Alessandro
had to think quickly before he answered. This was the father who had pointed a gun at him and tried
to get him to marry a mobster’s daughter. He must realize that Afonso had nothing to say to him.
“Yes, Father.” He answered frostily.
“Alessandro, I'm just coming from the solicitors. We've been looking at Grandma’s will.”
“Yes, and why are you telling me this? Have you forgotten the things that happened before I left?”
“No, son. No. But you need to understand how much pressure I was under after your grandma died
like that, and Signor Romano implied I owed him something.”
“Interesting. And that justifies what you did?”
"No, it doesn't, but I just wanted what was best for you. Do you want to hear about Grandma’s
affairs?”
“Fine.”
“Just a few very interesting things,” his father said. “Firstly, that woman was a lot wealthier than
any of us knew. Secondly, she has left you the house in Amalfi.”
“Father, are you serious?”
"Absolutely, just goes to show, doesn't it? She had your best interests at heart."
Alessandro didn't reply for a moment. “You think that’s why she left me the house?”
“Of course. She must have remembered all those summers you spent there with her.”
“Amazing!”
“Yes, totally amazing,” his father said. “Son, you have to understand that she wasn't a bad woman.
She was just a part of the culture she grew up in. It might be worth thinking about that. Why should
you turn your back on that culture? You have a fine villa now, on a beautiful stretch of coastline. You
might think about coming back and living there.”
Alessandro took a deep breath. Of course, he was thrilled. A house in Amalfi overlooking the
Mediterranean was not something to be sneezed at. But going back to Italy, living there again? He
wasn't too sure how he felt about that. And if he returned, could he be sure his father wouldn’t put him
under the same pressure again?
"Father, I will think about it. But I am making a life for myself here. I'm not so sure it's the ideal
time to turn my back on it.”
"Son, Romano's daughter, won't be around forever. She's the kind of girl who gets snapped up
quickly."
“Father, I’ve already told you; I have no interest in the girl. You know I am perfectly capable of
choosing a girl for myself. In fact, I have met someone.”
“You have met someone?”
“Yes. I just have my eye on someone.” Alessandro fumbled for the right words.
“Well, don't forget your Italian heritage. Moving outside, that is a dangerous road to follow."
“I'll bear that in mind, Father. Now, I've got to get back to work.”
“Back to work serving in the café? Well, OK. We’ll talk again.”
Alessandro hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. Walking back to his workstation, he
wondered what the old man had meant when he said that marrying somebody who wasn't from Italy
was a dangerous route to follow.
He had never thought of his father as old-fashioned. But maybe he was becoming old-fashioned as
he got older, or had it been a threat? Noticing some customers arriving, Alessandro decided that was
something he would worry about later.

Charlotte greeted her with a cry of, “Where did you get to last night?” the moment she entered the
office.
“Nowhere. I went home. I could see you were busy.”
“Why didn't you wait around? Angelo would have loved to meet you at the club.”
“Well, I wasn’t particularly keen on meeting him.”
“Of course, he said he knew you from your Italian days. Hiding behind work wasn’t exactly
successful.” Charlotte laughed. “He actually thought you were being shy, remembering the times when
you were with him.”
“Really?” Gianna smiled grimly. “And did he tell you about how those times ended?”
“He said something about you getting bored with him.”
“Interesting. Did he say anything about his mother? About how she controlled everything he did?
She even picked his girlfriends for him, and you know the worst of it, Charlotte? He allowed her to.”
“You sound angry about that.”
“Of course, I was angry then. But not now. We'd been planning on getting married − the ring had
been bought. And then his mother decided she wanted a union with another family. So, he fell into
step and started dating the girl she had picked out for him. And I gave back the ring.”
“But you didn't put up a fight for him?” Charlotte looked at her wide-eyed.
“Why should I if our relationship meant so little to him that he ended it just because his mother
said so? Why should I humiliate myself by trying to keep him?”
“Hang on,” Charlotte said, looking thoughtful. “Did he marry the girl?”
“I have no idea. I left Italy and broke all contact with him.”
“But didn’t your family tell you? They must know what happened.”
“Sorry, Charlotte, my family was not interested. It is a matter of pride. He jilted me, so in effect,
he turned up his nose at my whole family. And believe me, Charlotte, my family are too proud to take
that lying down.”
“Did you love him?”
“I must have done. I got engaged to him. Anyhow, he’s history now.”
“But I need to know. Have I just spent my nights with a married man?”
“You're going to have to ask him that yourself.”
“Shit.” Charlotte looked at her, worry plain on her face. “He is so goddam sexy. You must have
been heartbroken when things came to an end between the two of you.”
“Maybe, but I had a lucky escape.”
“Oh,” Charlotte piped up. “I popped into Marco’s this morning. Your Italian waiter is back.” She
saw the color rising in Gianna’s face. “But you already knew that?”
“Yes, I did.”
Charlotte rose to put a folder on Gianna's desk and looked at her speculatively for a moment.
“You know, Gianna, I’m enjoying myself with these Italian guys. If you don’t want to get together
with the waiter then, perhaps, I can have him. It all depends, of course, on whether or not Angelo is
married. Maybe that's something you could find out for me?"
Gianna looked at her in surprise. “Are you seriously asking me to find out the marital status of the
man you’re dating? My ex-fiancé?”
“Could be,” Charlotte said, leaving with a roguish wink.
There was something in her tone Gianna didn't quite like. They had all joked at the office that
Charlotte was always searching for a new man and that she didn't really care who she stole him from.
There had even been talk about the last guy she had gone out with. She had spotted him with
someone else at a Christmas party and set her heart on taking him for herself.
Gianna made a mental note to be very careful around her. She hadn’t found the man who might be
perfect for her just to risk losing him to Charlotte.
After a few hours of work, she picked up her bag and left the office to go to Marco’s for her
coffee and to see what Charlotte would call the perfect Italian man.
“Going to the record store in the morning," she reminded him. It was a Friday evening, and the noise
of cars outside spoke of a city that never stopped moving.
Alessandro winced as he looked at the traffic jam outside Marco’s. “It is at times like this that I
wish myself back in Italy.”
She laughed. “You’ll get used to it. It shocked me, too, at first."
“I’ve never really asked you. Why did you come here?”
“I finished college and saw the job, applied and got it.”
“But you are so lucky your family has a place here.” He thought of her penthouse and the amazing
view she had of the surrounding city.
“I suppose so. We came here once as kids. My parents bought it when they worked here.”
“Wow, they must have had very good jobs to afford somewhere so impressive.”
“Investments, that sort of thing. But let’s talk about tomorrow. Where shall we meet up?”
“I’ll drop by yours. About nine?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
“And …”
“Yes?” She looked at him, her heart fluttering in expectation.
"Tomorrow night, I am cooking that Italian meal I promised you. It will be served at nine if the
lady is happy with that. There will also be accommodation available if the lady wants to stay over."
“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” Giving him a jaunty wave, she walked toward the taxi rank.
That’s that put in place then, Alessandro thought, smiling to himself. He could not understand
why he had been so nervous about asking her. “Maybe because she is so important to you,” his inner
voice answered the question.
Before returning to his apartment, he picked up the essentials for the meal he was going to cook
the next evening and a few bits and pieces for the apartment. He bought a bouquet of roses he thought
she would like from a nearby florist. She had been drinking a rosé wine when he had eaten at her
place. He would pick some up at the liquor store after he got the groceries.
 CHAPTER 4

A rriving back at the apartment, his arms full of his purchases, he was surprised at how happy
he felt in comparison to the night when he had waited on her doorstep. That had been a dark
time, but thanks to her, the darkness was already lifting.
He tidied the apartment and put his purchases away before sitting down to ring his father. He
hadn’t spoken to him since receiving the news about the house in Amalfi, and he felt he owed him
some response to that.
The old man was in the middle of a card game when he answered. Good, that meant he was
returning to his normal life. Card games had always been a part of his father’s Friday routine for as
long as he could remember – card games and that Amaretto he drank.
“Father, I need to talk to you about the house in Amalfi,” he said in response to the gruff greeting.
“What about it?”
“How about selling it? I’m not going to be back. Better to sell it than leave it lying empty.”
“Selling it? You mean sell a part of the family heritage?” The clinking of glasses in the
background punctuated his words.
Alessandro mentally took a step back. Christ, he should have known better than to ring his father
on a Friday.
“Forget it; I'll call another day.”
“Don’t waste your time. My answer will not have changed. She may be dead, but no way is my
son dismantling her memory.”
Alessandro held the phone from his ear as his father released a string of profanities at him.
Giving up, he hung up the phone without another word. He would have to think of some other way
to deal with the unwanted property on the Amalfi coastline. He couldn’t see himself living there, not
with the things he now remembered about the place. Perhaps, he could rent it out as a holiday home,
capitalize on it in that way. He would leave the topic until after the weekend. He had more important
things to think about now, such as wondering how Gianna liked her fish cooked and would she prefer
silk or cotton sheets on the bed. Assuming, of course, she was going to stay over. He hoped she did.

She was waiting for him on the doorstep the next morning, her winter jacket replaced with a light
trench coat and a silk scarf, tight jeans replacing the skirts he usually saw her wearing.
Kissing her on each cheek as he normally did, he caught the elusive scent of her perfume again.
That was what he loved about her; everything was discreet and elegant. Her makeup was light and
understated; she didn't douse herself in heavy scents.
Falling into step beside her, he noticed her elegant walk, the way she put one dainty foot in front
of the other.
“Christ, you have it bad,” he heard the little voice inside his head telling him. He knew he did, but
how could he not?
It was a clear sunny morning, there was a beautiful girl by his side taking him to a shop to find the
music she knew he enjoyed, and all of that in one of the most exciting cities in the world. What more
could he ask for?
“Have you been to the record store before?” she asked as they hailed a taxi.
“No,” he admitted.
“Well then, I will show you around.” she laughed as a taxi pulled up.
He was enjoying the light-hearted chat. It was obvious she was enjoying his company as much as
he enjoyed hers. This was the most relaxed he had seen her since they had first met. Perhaps her job
meant that she had to be careful all the time, never saying the wrong thing.
For a moment, he wondered how many ex-pats there were wandering around New York, hiding
their true selves from the world. Well, he was one of them. Pushing the thought aside, he took her hand
as they walked along.
 CHAPTER 5

“I am looking forward to this shopping trip. Maybe we can do lunch after?”

“Sure. But I thought you were cooking tonight?” She laughed teasingly.
“Of course.” So, she had remembered. The thought made him happy.
“And will you stay over?”
She had put a lot of thought into that during the previous night. Staying over could mean only one
thing. She was ready for that. It had been a while, but she had felt a twinge of excitement selecting the
clothes she would wear, especially the underwear. Smiling now as she thought of the lacy lingerie she
had chosen, she answered, “Yes, I will. But I’ll go home first and then head to yours.”
He squeezed her hand. This was it, she decided. She liked and trusted him enough to spend the
night with him.
The store was crowded with weekend shoppers. Guiding him to the lifts, she said, “This way.
Unless you want to get other stuff as well.”
“Not really.” He had spotted something he wanted to get her, but it could wait until they came
back down.
Browsing through the music section on the top floor, he found what he needed quickly. Coming to
look over her shoulder, he saw a French label in her hand.
“Édith Piaf,” she explained. “Singing about how she regrets nothing.”
“I don’t know her.” He looked at the photograph on the case.
“I like to play her whenever I feel like I’ve made a mistake. She has lifted my spirits on so many
occasions.”
“Well, let’s get it,” he said, adding the vinyl record to his collection.
She watched as he drew a wad of dollar bills from his wallet to pay for his purchases. "You don't
use cards?" she asked, surprised.
"No." Well, he did, but he was wanted to use cash when with her. He didn’t need her to see the
surname Esposito on his cards. But he looked forward to the day he could be truthful with her. He
hoped he came quickly. This deceit didn’t sit well with him as he felt himself becoming closer to her.
There was just one more thing he had to sort out.
“But I find cash such a nuisance. I never seem to bring enough with me,” Gianna remarked.
“I find it more manageable.”
She noticed a certain brusqueness in his voice, but she disregarded it quickly.
“Well, to each their own.” She laid a hand on his arm. “If I carried that amount of cash around
with me, I know I would probably buy every pair of shoes I saw. Using a card makes me stop and
think.”
 "Perhaps I should do that," he said, taking his receipt and thanking the cashier. “Let’s get some
food. I think they have some restaurants here?”
“Yes, there are a few fast-food places.”
As they sat down at a place that made light snacks, a voice she recognized drew her attention.
“Shit, I don’t believe it,” she snarled through clenched teeth.
Alessandro noticed the whiteness appear on her knuckles as she clenched her hands together.
“You OK?”
“Yes, just recognized somebody.” She tried her usual trick of holding a menu in front of her face.
But it was too late. Charlotte was already bearing down on the table, holding a loaded tray of
food.
“Caught you hiding,” Charlotte cried triumphantly. “So, you and your new man are doing some
shopping? I hadn’t put you down as somebody who spent the weekend shopping,” she deposited her
tray on the table.
“Well, I do. You remember Alessandro from Marco’s?”
“So, I finally get an introduction,” Charlotte reached a hand across the table, her shirt gaping open
to reveal more of her breasts than Gianna considered appropriate.
“Charlotte and I work together.”
“Yes, and share a love for Italian men. In fact,” Charlotte said suggestively, slicing into a muffin,
“for the same Italian men. When she is done with you, you will find me in the office or at Marco’s.”
Seeing the helpless look on Gianna’s face, Alessandro rose to his feet. “There is something I
forgot to get downstairs. I’ll be right back. Enjoy your chat.”
“Charlotte, what are you playing at?” Gianna asked furiously as Alessandro headed for the stairs.
“Nothing really.” Charlotte shrugged. “But Angelo told me some very interesting things about you
and your family. Apparently, his mother didn’t get it all wrong.”
Gianna felt a vaguely familiar knot in her stomach. But Charlotte was still talking. "All of you
Italians are the same, aren't you? Anyhow, not to worry, Angelo is gone on his merry way. I'm
footloose and fancy-free again."
Gianna looked at her. “Why are you telling me this?”
“So that you know that even in the good old US of A, your past can catch up with you.”
“I really don’t know what you are talking about.” Gianna genuinely didn’t. She could only imagine
some of this was brought on by jealousy on Charlotte’s part. But jealousy of what? Of Gianna’s good
standing in the office or of her new boyfriend?
Heaving a sigh of relief, she saw Alessandro coming from the stairwell, another bag in his hand.
Rising to go, she turned to her so-called friend, “We have to leave.”
“You’re leaving? Just when the conversation is becoming interesting? Don’t you want to hear
what they are saying about the family living on Via Appia?
“Not particularly.” Gianna was trying to ignore that knot in her stomach. “Charlotte, you know I
don’t do gossip.”
"Sometimes, maybe you should."
“Charlotte, where is all this coming from? We have worked side by side for so long and never
had a problem.”
“So you say.”
Alessandro arrived back at their table, and Gianna said goodbye and walked away before
Charlotte could say anything else. As they walked to the elevators, Alessandro asked, “What was that
about?”
 “I have no idea; she seems to dislike me all of a sudden. Why I don’t know.” She gave him a
perplexed look. Taking his arm, she added, “Let’s enjoy our Saturday, get our coffee somewhere else.
There are several places around here.”
In a little café down the road, she decided to fill him in on the man who had broken her heart in
Italy. “Charlotte has been dating him recently,” she explained.
“And that was her reason for launching an attack on you? Are they still together?”
“She says no.”
“Well, that explains it. Typical jealousy." He took her hand. "And you haven't discussed this with
anyone since coming to America."
She shook her head. “I just wanted to put it behind me.”
Seeing the tears welling up in her dark eyes, he kissed her hand. "Remember what you told me
that night I came to your place? About crying about letting the sadness out?"
She nodded, smiling through the tears. “Maybe I should take my own advice.”
“You should. Now let’s get back. I have a special dinner to cook.”
Picking up their shopping, they walked arm-in-arm to the taxi rank.
“What was your impression of Macy’s?”
“Huge, but I liked it. We must go back there again.”
In the taxi, he handed her a package from one of his bags. “A little something silly for you.”
Opening it to reveal a teddy bear with ‘I love NY’ across its fluffy tummy, she laughed. “I will put
it on my bedside table.”
“Just to remind you of me when I’m not there.”
She planted a kiss on his cheek. She was enjoying this new, fun side of him.
 CHAPTER 6

S oaking in the tub, Édith Piaf singing of having no regrets in the bedroom, Gianna felt a
weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She couldn’t understand why she had never
really opened up to anybody about her experience with Angelo. True, she had given
Charlotte an outline of the story, but that had been to save Charlotte from herself. That was something
she wouldn't be doing again; she reminded herself.
But telling Alessandro, feeling the light pressure of his hand on hers, had been different. He had
understood the insult she received. The memory of that had unleashed a wild sobbing session when
she had returned to her apartment; the New York teddy bear clutched in her arms. But the sobbing
session had left her feeling lighter, somehow unburdened, and the teddy bear was now pride of place
on her pillow.
Reaching for the scented soap, she promised herself another ten minutes in the tub before she got
ready to leave for Alessandro’s. Tonight, she would wear the lacy bra and panties she had brought
from home and the flowered silk dress. She hadn’t had an occasion to dress like this for a long time.
Leaning back in the tub, her mind drifted over what shoes and bag she would pair with the dress.
Later in her bedroom, she pirouetted in front of the mirror and liked what she saw. The reds and
pinks of the dress suited her coloring, and the strappy sandals completed the outfit nicely. A simple
crossbody bag was all that she needed, big enough to hold what she needed for the night but not too
big, and a spray of perfume. She had noticed that he liked her perfume and reminded herself to buy
another bottle. Picking up her bag, she slung a trench over her shoulders. She was ready.

***

In his apartment, Alessandro was planning the evening too. His outfit was easily sorted, silk shirt
and black trousers, a watch, some gold chains. His main responsibility was to cook the best meal he
possibly could for his lady and to present it as he would in the restaurant she was encouraging him to
open.
Surveying the dining table, he checked that he had remembered everything. The roses were in the
little vase he had picked up, linen napkins in their Murano glass holders. Fortunately, he had
remembered to bring those from Italy with him. And the music he had bought in the store was already
playing in the background.
A quick check of the bedroom and bathroom revealed that everything was in order. Fresh, fluffy
towels hung on the towel rail, and he was happy with his choice of silk sheets.
 He was putting the wine in the fridge to chill when he heard the intercom buzz. Seeing her enter,
his heart missed a beat. She looked beautiful.
Taking in the flowery dress, skimming her body, and the strappy sandals, he exclaimed, "You look
wonderful." Folding her in his arms, he added, "And smell divine."
She laughed as she hugged him back. “You look great too, and whatever you are doing in the
kitchen smells delicious."
Laying her bag on the couch, he took her hand. “Come and see. Let’s hope you like it.”
Walking beside him, she felt at home in this little bit of America. He had given the Manhattan
apartment his own Italian touch. Nets of garlic hung by the stove, and that had to be authentic Murano
glass, she thought, as she took in the beautiful colors and swirling patterns.
“You have certainly brought a little bit of Italy to the Big Apple.” She looked around her. “I have
never managed to make my place look Italian.” Her place was modern and minimalist.
On impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“What was that for?” He put an arm around her.
“I don’t know. Perhaps for not forgetting your home country.” She ran a finger admiringly over the
glass bowl. “I love Murano glass. It was always my mother’s favorite at home too.”
“We seem to have the same tastes,” he said, getting that scent of her perfume again. “You have a
drink while I get the food plated up. Would you like to sit in the lounge?"
“Can I stay here and watch you work?” She took the wine glass from him.
“Becoming nostalgic?”
“Just a little,” she admitted, inhaling the mouth-watering scents that filled the room as he took the
food from the oven and sprinkled some fresh herbs over it.
“Now everything’s ready. Would my guest like to accompany me to the table?”
She sat at the dining table as he served the meal. This reminded her of fine dining in Italy, but fine
dining in an intimate setting. Music played in the background, candles burned brightly in their holders,
and the scent of fresh flowers filled the air.
“This is so, well, so Italian.” She smiled at him as she speared a morsel of salad from her starter.
"I am Italian, you know." He laughed. He loved watching her eat, loved seeing her enjoying the
food he had made for her.
"And for the main course we have … ” She watched him uncover the dish he had taken from the
oven. “Seafood tagliatelle.”
“Seafood, fabulous.”
“And the wine for the seafood.” And he poured her a chilled white.
“That was delicious,” she said when the meal was over, and she had helped him bring the dishes
to the kitchen.
"Coffee on the balcony?" he asked, sliding open the doors.
Sitting on the balcony, they listened to the sounds of New York as Alessandro’s arm rested on her
shoulder. Feeling his finger stroking the side of her face, she turned to him and, putting a hand behind
his head, pulled him to her for a lingering kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do that all evening.”
“Same here,” he said, returning the kiss, feeling her lips opening under his and cupping her face in
his hand.
Rising, he lifted her from her seat, feeling her warm body close to his. "Let's go inside, baby," he
whispered, leading her through the sliding doors. In the lounge, he held her close, feeling her erect
nipples against his chest and running his hands over her body as he continued to kiss her, their tongues
entwining.
 Feeling her hands running over his back and coming to a stop at his belt, his kisses intensified.
Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her through to the bedroom.
When he put her down, she rose on her toes, desperate for his kisses, devouring them hungrily, as
her hand reached for the zipper on his pants. Hearing the zipper open and feeling her hand on his
erection, he gasped. He had guessed she was passionate but not as passionate as this. Her kisses
hungrier now, he reached for the fastening on her dress and released it, letting it fall to her feet.
Holding her at arm’s length, he took in her soft tanned skin, her breasts pushing against the lace of
her bra and the dark mound under the lace of her panties.
“You are beautiful,” he moaned, taking her in his arms again, “So beautiful.”
He cupped her breasts and kissed them before unclasping her bra. She responded to his touch,
opening her mouth fully for the kisses she couldn’t get enough of, her fingers tugging at his pants. She
pushed them to the floor, where they were soon joined by his boxers.
“Take me, take me,” she moaned when she felt his hand on the band of her panties.
He ran a finger along the tangle of curls and, finding her clitoris, stroked it gently at first, then
more strongly when he heard her moans intensify. Feeling her first orgasm coursing through her body,
he lifted her, finger still on her clitoris, and laid her on the bed. One of her hands was on his member
now, while the fingers of the other ran through the hair.
She pulled him closer, her mouth demanding longer and deeper kisses. He slipped a finger inside
her and felt her moistness closing in around it, drawing him in ever deeper inside her. When the next
orgasm came, it was explosive, drawing cries of pleasure from her and causing her body to shudder
beneath him.
Spent for a moment, she lay back before taking his manhood in her hands and stroking it,
marveling at the hardness in her hand. It wasn’t long until she felt the first pre-love juice emerge on
the tip of his cock. She ran a finger over the tip and then took it deep into her mouth while looking up
at him with half-closed eyes. Her body longed for him to enter her.
Arching over her, he felt her legs wrap round his hips as he slowly lowered himself on top of her.
He let out a groan when he entered her. Time appeared to stand still. He could hear her breathing in
his ear as he slowly started to thrust deeper inside of her.
She responded, moving against him as he began to thrust more forcefully. Both of them breathing
deeply, he thrust and thrust again until she felt his entire body spasm as he came inside her. And
Alessandro heard her cries of passion as she orgasmed along with him.
Lying in the glow of their lovemaking, they looked at one another, their fingers intertwined.
Reaching for her, he laid her head on his shoulder, his organ still throbbing with spent desire.
“That was … ” he began.
“Ecstatic,” she finished for him, as she stroked his tanned chest with her free hand.

Later in the kitchen, both of them still naked, he looked at her. “Why do I feel like things will never
again be the same?”
She pulled one of his shirts around her. “Maybe because we have crossed a bridge? Because we
have become closer?”
“That could be it, and maybe because I love you.”
“And because I love you too.” She reached out to give him a kiss on the cheek. It had been a long
time since she had said that to anybody.
The remainder of the evening was spent talking about everything and nothing. It was a perfect
moment, one neither of them would ever forget. And when they held each other in bed later that night,
it was like nothing, and no one could ever separate them.
It was the same again the following morning – pure loving bliss. Both Alessandro and Gianna
wanted to make love again, but when she looked at the time on her phone, she jumped out of bed,
exclaiming that she needed to head into the office even though it was the weekend.
“Would you like to do this again, next Friday maybe?” he asked, as she got ready to leave.
“Yes. I would love nothing more.” She smiled. “And this time, I will bring the wine. I might even
help you with the cooking.”
“Looking forward to that already.” He gave her a parting hug.
“See you at Marco’s,” she called as she walked to the lift, her bag slung over her shoulder.
 CHAPTER 7

T he weeks flew by in a blur. It was Friday morning, and Gianna was thinking back on
how life had changed for her. She thought about the twice-daily trips to Marco's for
coffee; evenings spent selecting her dress for the following day, a renewed focus on
doing her hair and nails, and the tingle in her stomach when she left her apartment every morning. And
the thrill she felt every Friday as she waited for what had become their regular night together,
sometimes in her penthouse, more often in his apartment.
Leafing through her diary that Friday morning, she realized how much time she was spending with
him. This was what being in love, really being in love, must feel like. Suddenly, all that seemed to
matter was seeing him on her coffee breaks, feeling his hands close to hers as he placed her coffee on
the table, knowing they had another night together arranged.
Even the suspicious looks Charlotte shot her didn’t matter any longer. Gianna had noticed her
looking at the different dresses she wore everyday under her blazer and the spring in her step as she
headed to Marco's. None of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was that she was seeing him
again, remembering his hands touching her in the most intimate of places, and how she felt when he
kissed her, how loving he was when they walked in the park together, watched a movie while cuddled
on the couch, and especially when they were alone together.
She left work early. She had to pick up some wine for dinner, an overnight bag to pack for her
night at Alessandro’s, and a little gift to get for him.
He was waiting for her when she arrived at the apartment. She saw his eyes lighting up, as they
always did when he saw the overnight bag. Taking the wine and bag from her, he drew her into the
apartment to the lounge where nibbles were laid out on the table, and Pavarotti was blasting from the
sound system.
“Just a little bit of home from home,” she teased, as he dropped a kiss on her cheek.
“Yes, all things Italian here tonight.” He opened the door to the kitchen. “Want to see what I have
been cooking?”
Tonight, it was steaks served in the Florentine way. “And not a drop of tomato ketchup in sight.”
He placed a dish in front of her. “Help yourself, senorita,” he said with a flourish.
“Alessandro, I would love to hear about your life in Italy. You’re from Naples; it’s so close to
Rome but so very different.” She wanted to know so much more about the man who had worked his
way into her heart.
“Yes, I suppose so. I don’t really know Rome all that well. We never made a habit of visiting
there, except for festivals. Many aristocratic families live there, I believe?"
“They do. But Naples sounds so much more exciting. Have you come across any of the Mafia
there? I’ve heard it can be rough for everyone when the rival families start feuding.”
In Rome, stories about the Mafia were rampant, but she had never come across anyone who knew
them or at least admitted to knowing them. All of her information had been gleaned from movies.
"Yes. Excuse me; dessert is burning in the oven."
He rushed to the kitchen again, and Gianna heard an oven door opening and closing.
“You saved it?” she asked when he came back, a glass of water in his hand.
“Yes, just about. We’re going apple pie for dessert.”
“And Naples? You were going to tell me about the Mafia.”
“I was, but there isn’t really anything to tell. They occupy their own part of town. We ordinary
folk don’t really get to see them.”
“Damn.” She cut a sliver of her steak. “I was looking forward to some exciting stories about them,
like the things you see in the movies.”
“Sorry to disappoint. Is the steak good? Anyhow, Rome must be much more exciting than Naples.”
"Yes, if you don't mind being overrun by tourists whenever you want to see something. We don't
go to famous places very often. Imagine having to queue to see landmarks in your own city."
He reached for the bottle of wine to refill her glass.
“I love that ring you are wearing.” She had noticed the initials embossed on the heavy gold ring
and raised a finger to trace over them.
“Shit, I shouldn’t be wearing it. It’s an antique I picked up in Naples. Not the thing for working in
the kitchen. There.” He slipped the ring off his finger and put it in his pocket. “Cheers.” He touched
his glass to hers.
“And how was work this week? Charlotte behaving herself?” Alessandro just wanted to change
the subject and steer her as far away as possible from the Mafia and Naples.
“Yes, very subdued. I think she’s taking the breakup with Angelo hard. And my boss put another
acquisition case on my desk this evening.”
“Wow. You must be good at what you do if they keep giving you that stuff.”
“I think they were impressed with my work, your work really, on the last one. I will probably
have to pick your brains again.”
“Be my guest,” he said, smiling at her.
He loved the faith she was showing him. Those questions about Naples had thrown him a little,
but at least he had rallied in the kitchen. Sometime soon, he would tell her the full story, when she
trusted him enough not to believe he was one of them too.
“Your dessert,” he said, placing a slice of apple pie in front of her.
“Thanks. I would love to cook for you. But you are so good at this. I think I would be embarrassed
to show you my inferior skills.”
When they ate at her place, she always got a take-away meal.
“Well, you did take me shopping twice now, I think.” He laughed, turning to put on a Puccini
vinyl. “And you have introduced me to the minimalist style you like in your apartment.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, wiping some cream from her lips. “I’ve got it! I won’t inflict my cooking on
you, but instead, I will show you the cultural events and areas of New York. There is a drama festival
coming to town next week. People who know about drama tell me it is superb. I will take you there.”
“Yes, that is a good idea. I’d like that.”
"As a one-time drama student, you should love it. Take you back to your student days.”
“Sounds good.” He smiled. “Have you been to any shows here?”
“Not a lot,” she admitted. “But let’s go to the festival. Then, if we like it, we can go to some more
shows.”
“OK, let’s do that. Would you like some coffee before we close the restaurant for the night?”
He brushed his lips on her hair before heading for the kitchen, making her regret having said she
would have the coffee. She would’ve happily left the table for the bedroom right now, but she had felt
a tension in him that she hadn’t noticed before.
Maybe he was just trying too hard to give her a good evening. Or perhaps he had had a difficult
week at work. Well, they all did at some time or another. And he clearly hadn't liked talking about
Naples; there had been such stiffness in his answers. Anyhow, she knew from previous evenings that
he would relax when the meal was over.
Returning with the coffee, Alessandro still seemed a little preoccupied.
“Hey.” She took his hand. “I hope you didn’t mind me asking you about Naples. I know, coming
from there, you must get asked those questions a lot.”
“No problem. But yes, people do ask about it a lot and think I should know everything just
because I’m from there.”
Reaching up, she brought his face down to hers and gently brushed her lips against his.
“Same with Rome. They think I must know all about the emperors and gladiators.”
“And do you?” he asked, making her laugh.
“Hell, no. I know about the designers and artists. I slept through history at school.”
Changing the music on the sound system, he extended a hand, “Shall we dance?”
This had become part of their evening ritual. Dancing closely to one of their favorite pieces of
music before he waltzed her off to the bedroom.
 CHAPTER 8

H e kissed her gently on the forehead the following morning.

“Don’t get up. Here’s your coffee.” He placed the cup on the bedside table. “I have
to go to work; I'll be back at about five. See you here or at your place."
Sitting up, she watched him leave. Yes, the coffee was good, but something wasn’t right. She had
slept badly despite their lovemaking, and even that had been different this time.
She searched her brain for the word she would apply to it. It had been, well, tense. Tense, that
was the word, not the carefree, fun, passionate experience it usually was. And he hadn’t tried to
satisfy her in the way he usually did. But the sense of unease she had felt the previous evening was
still troubling her. There was something he wasn’t telling her, something that was bothering him. What
it was, she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Looking around the room, she wondered, as she often did, how a waiter at Marco’s could afford
the expensive clothes and accessories he wore, not to mention the rent he must be paying for this
lovely apartment. But she had been of the mindset that that was none of her business. She didn’t own
him.
She always found it distasteful when she heard girls assessing their men’s financial worth. But
that ring with the initial ‘E’ he had been wearing last night … He had said he picked it up in an Italian
antique shop. But why buy a ring with an initial that wasn’t yours?
There was something wrong. He wasn’t being totally honest with her, or was she being paranoid?
But no, she wasn’t. She knew she was too level-headed for that.
Drawing up her legs, she put her chin on her knees. He wouldn’t be back until five. That gave her
time to have a look around. Shocked at herself, she couldn't believe what she was planning on doing
—spying on her boyfriend when he had trusted her enough to leave her alone in his apartment? But
she had to do it. Thinking of him as her boyfriend make her realize that she had to know. She had
allowed herself to get dragged into a mess in the past, and she wasn't going to do it again. She
couldn't do that to herself.
Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she sat up. She knew what she was going to do was
unforgivable, but it had to be done if she was planning on staying with Alessandro.
Swinging her legs out of bed, she padded around the room in her bare feet. Well, his taste in
clothes was certainly expensive, she thought, slipping on the silk dressing gown hanging on the back
of a chair.
Gathering her thoughts, she thought about what she needed to find. Documentation, that was it.
Well, there was a desk in the lounge and a briefcase stored under it.
Padding through to the lounge, she found the desk unlocked. Shocked at her own deceit, she ran
her hands over the contents. There was documentation, some photographs. Looking at the photo lying
on top, she found herself looking into an elderly woman’s face. That must be his grandmother. She
turned it over to read the writing on the back: “To my grandson, Alessandro Esposito, love you
always – Grandma.”
Stunned, she read the message again. But her boyfriend was Alessandro Rossi. Maybe this
belonged to someone else. Poking into the desk, she extracted two letters, both addressed to
Alessandro Esposito, and both mailed from Naples.
She put her hand to her mouth. She was invading her boyfriend’s privacy, poking through his stuff,
and she felt guilty about doing so, but he had been lying to her, lying in the same way Angelo had
done.
Sitting on her heels in the lounge, she wiped her eyes with the cuff of his dressing gown. She had
trusted him. This was proof if she needed any that she was a bad judge of men. Was she just another
woman doomed to a life of singledom if this was how her relationships kept turning out?
Bringing the photograph and the letters to the bedroom, she stuffed them into her overnight bag.
Tossing aside the robe, she dressed quickly. She could shower at home, in her own apartment. She
just needed to get out of his place, get back to her own apartment where she could breathe easily, and
look at her options.

Returning home, he was surprised to find she had left. He had tried ringing her mobile during the day,
but she hadn’t answered. Thinking she might have been asleep, he hadn't tried again but had thought
instead about what they might do for the evening. He had been so looking forward to seeing her,
talking about the day, and holding her in his arms.
Maybe she was waiting for him at her apartment? Another call to her mobile went unanswered.
Should he go around there? Common sense told him to wait, to ring again in an hour. Sitting on the
couch, checking his watch regularly, he forced himself to sit it out for sixty minutes.

Gianna was working on her laptop, documents from Alessandro’s apartment on the table beside her.
Searching online so far had failed to give her any information. She would have to find her password
and search the database they used at work for complicated cases involving European clients. Doing
that might give her answers, but it also guaranteed a tedious day's work. Putting on the coffee, she
spread her work across the table.
It was late afternoon when she finally came across references to the Esposito family of Naples.
Looking at the list of references, she realized these people were well known for all the wrong
reasons. To fortify herself for what the search might reveal, she needed to make another pot of coffee.
In the kitchen, waiting for her coffee, she stretched her arms over her head to relieve the tension in
her shoulders. The enormity of what the morning had revealed was beginning to hit her. She, who
should have known better, had allowed herself to be taken in again—and taken in badly.
She had fallen seriously for this man, building her life around meeting him, dressing for the
admiration she saw in his eyes, allowing herself to be sad when he wasn’t around. But he hadn’t been
honest with her, not even about his name. What else had he lied about? She was too afraid to even
imagine.
“That bastard lied to me,” she muttered to herself.
Repeating the words over and over again, she felt her anger mounting, welling up in her veins like
molten lava. She needed to be angry to keep herself from crying. She deserved to be angry, so she
continued shouting the words again, but this time her ire was directed at her mobile.
The screen on her phone showed he had been ringing. “Well, let him ring,” she growled.
She would talk to him when she was ready, and not until then. Flinging the mobile to the far corner
of the kitchen, she grabbed the cup of coffee, scalding her hand in the process. Ignoring the burn, she
took the coffee to the lounge and focused again on the laptop.
By late evening, she had collected enough information to confirm what she suspected was true.
His family was one of the biggest mobster groups in Naples, suspected of extortion, protection
rackets, and multiple shootings. The list went on, but they regularly managed to avoid being
convicted. Running her hands through her hair, she found it hard to believe that she, an up-and-coming
lawyer, could have been so easily taken in.
“You damn fool, Gianna," she said to herself. "A few decent coffees and some Florentines, and
you fell for it."
Feeling ashamed, she rose from the chair. Catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror, she realized
she hadn’t showered or changed her clothes since the previous day, and she was beginning to feel
grubby.
Going through the kitchen to collect towels from the closet, she spotted the phone where she had
thrown it. He had called again.
“Well, he can damn well wait,” she thought, as she headed for the bathroom.
Stripping off the clothes she had put on so carefully the day before in preparation for her night
with him, she stuffed them in the waste bin. Looking at them would only remind her of how foolish
she had been.

Alessandro tried calling again. There was still no answer. Looking at his watch, he noticed it was 8
pm. Something had to be wrong. She always had her phone with her. Something must have happened,
an accident, a fall in her apartment maybe? A break-in? Dear God, no. There were always warnings
here about random break-ins, about people getting hurt.
Grabbing a jacket, he ran outside to hail a taxi.
After several tries, she eventually answered the call on the intercom. His knees buckled for a
moment. She was OK.
“Gianna, it’s me. I’ve been worried about you.”
He tried to understand what she was saying above the noise of the traffic.
“Sorry, Gianna. I didn’t catch that.”
He stared in shock at the intercom when he heard her answer.
“You don’t want me here? Why? What’s wrong? Gianna, what is wrong? I don’t know what you
mean!”
“Go away,” her answer came clearly this time, scalding and harsh.
He was tempted to scream. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t going anywhere, but that attitude
would get him nowhere. Calming himself, he spoke slowly and clearly into the intercom.
 “Gianna, I don’t know what is wrong, but you know I love you. There must be something wrong.
Please let me come up. I want to know what is wrong.”
Her answer shocked him once again. “Go home, Alessandro. Look in your desk. Look at where
you keep your mail and your documents. You will find your answer there.”
When silence followed her comments, she added, "Don't forget, I am a lawyer, Alessandro, and
have access to information that a lot of people don’t.”
The connection cut abruptly. He tried the intercom again but got no reply. Putting a hand against
the wall, he attempted to get his bearings.
His desk. Had she searched his desk? No, why would anyone do that? And if she had, what could
have been so terrible?
“My name. Shit, shit. I should have told her,” he said aloud. Almost stumbling into the traffic, he
tried to hail a cab.
When one eventually stopped, he had to listen to the driver ranting about being stuck in a line of
traffic until they reached his apartment. Throwing a twenty-dollar bill in the driver’s direction and a
rushed “Keep the change,” he jumped out. His apartment was as he always left it, apart from his
dressing gown on the floor and the open desk drawers.
“Christ.” He slumped into a chair. “How could she?” An icy shiver slithered down his spine.
“What could she have found?”
He looked blankly into the drawers. All his photos were there apart from the one Grandma had
given him, the one where she had scribbled a message on the back. He always kept that one on top.
His real name had been on that.
Sitting back defeated, he knew he didn’t have to search any further. She knew he had given her a
false name. She was smart. It wouldn’t have been very difficult for her to figure out why, and being
Italian, of course, her mind would turn to the Mafia.
Naples and the Mafia went together for a lot of people. For an aristocratic Italian girl, that would
be the death knell for any hopes he had of having a relationship with her. And she had said she had
access to restricted information. Heavens only knew what information could be out there about the
Esposito family. What a mess.
It’s all my own damn fault, he thought, feeling his eyes burn as the tears threatened to erupt. I
should have told her, but I was afraid, afraid I would lose her.
Realizing he had probably lost her anyway, he got up to do what his father always did when a
crisis struck. Finding the whisky, he poured a large tumblerful and, when that was finished, poured
another.
 CHAPTER 9

G ianna took another coffee through to the lounge, promising herself that was the last one she
was going to have. She was lightheaded from the stresses of the day, lack of food, and too
much coffee. She went into the kitchen to pour the cup down the sink and called for a
takeaway. That should do the trick. She studiously averted her gaze from the wine rack. She
would have one after she had eaten, she promised herself, but not until then. For now, she needed a
clear head.
Trying to pull the pieces of the day together, she attempted to get a picture of where she was and
how she should progress. Stilling the voices in her head that were screaming at her to go to
counseling as Charlotte did, or pick a man up and sleep with him as Charlotte did again, she took a
sheet of paper and pen. Making a list should give her some clarity.
When her takeaway arrived, she had only two things on the list, go home to Rome and banish men
entirely from her life. Rome wouldn't work. She and her mother had never been particularly close,
and a boarding school education meant she didn’t have any close friends there, plus the job prospects
were abysmal. Banishing men entirely from her life would work. It was something she could do very
happily, but the little voice in her head was talking again.
“Admit it, Gianna, you're heartbroken. You trusted him completely; you were good for one
another. You could have made a good team."
“If the bastard had only told me the truth,” Gianna said aloud, in an attempt to silence the internal
voice.
Even the pizza wasn’t helping. Putting it into the oven for reheating later, she poured herself the
forbidden glass of wine and walked onto the rooftop garden. Nursing her wine while she listened to
the hum of traffic, she found herself able to think more clearly. That was the strange thing about big
cities, she reflected. Sometimes the noisier they were, the better you were able to function.
Thoughts came more clearly to her as sounds of New York floated up from the street. She needed
to understand why he had given her a false name. He shouldn’t have done that, but her first step had to
be to find out why. His people were obviously part of the Mafia. Did that mean he was? Not all
children followed their families' footsteps. But had he? Possibly, very possibly. That would explain
his wealth.
But there was only one way to get the answers she needed. She had to ask him, but then he might
ask her why she had raided his desk. She blushed, thinking of what she had said to him on the
intercom. There was no easy way of explaining that one. Putting her thoughts in order, she realized
that a lot of the issues demanded another conversation with him. Already the voice in her head was
reminding her that speaking to him was what she really wanted, as much as she tried to deny it. She
needed clarity.
First, she would have to double-check her information. False and misleading information had led
to too many crises for clients she had worked with. She wasn't going to fall into that trap. Back at her
laptop, she checked the reliability of the database she had used. Her company used it regularly, so she
knew it was accurate, but the information on European citizens might not have been updated recently.
She needed something she could trust.
Tapping a pen on her teeth, she racked her brains. A private investigator might be the best person
to deal with this. Working for a New York legal team should help her there, she thought. Not only did
she have a list of useful PI’s, but she had the inside track on the most reliable of them. Entering their
details on her phone, she could finally relax.
She would contact one of them the next day. She had yet to hear of a PI who refused to take calls
on a Sunday. And she wasn't letting another day pass without getting to the truth of this matter; she
thought as she put the pizza in the microwave.
Picking up a slice of pizza, she realized the answers a PI would give her might present their own
dilemmas. If he was in the Mafia, then she would be bidding him a very firm farewell. She had heard
stories from the people on the higher floor offices at work about their cases involving the American
Mafia. And if he wasn’t in the Mafia? He had still lied. Could she trust someone who was so casual
with the truth?

Alessandro woke to the furious ringing of his phone and a pounding headache. Looking at the half-
empty whisky bottle on the table and the flashing phone, he tried to decide which he would deal with
first, his headache or the phone. His throat raw, he got a large glass of water first. He had never been
a whisky drinker; something terrible had to happen to make him drink that crap.
On his way back to pick up the phone, he stopped short. Something terrible had happened. Gianna
had found out about his lie and was refusing to talk to him. That might even have been her on the
phone, but looking at the number on the screen, he recognized it as Marco's. They probably wanted
him to come in for the day. Slamming the phone on the table, he threw his best line of Italian curses at
it. They could go to hell. He had more important things to worry about than customers wanting their
morning caffeine fix.
He would have to persuade Gianna to meet up with him and make her understand why he had lied.
But what had he done that had caused her to rifle through his desk? She shouldn't have done that. It
was an unspoken rule that a woman never invaded her man's privacy. At least in Naples, that was
how they looked at it.
In Rome, he wasn’t so sure. And what had caused the line of questions about Naples she had
asked during their meal? He should have noticed she was on to something and opened up to her then.
But no, he had tried to be smart and keep his private life to himself. He had to get her back. Without
her, he was nothing. He had never felt like this about a woman before, not even about the girl he had
met in college and thought was the love of his life.
Remembering the college girl reminded him of the other lie he had told Gianna that he had studied
drama. She had wanted to take him to a drama festival, which would have revealed his lack of
knowledge. Christ, it was all coming back to him.
Eyeing the half-empty bottle on the table, he picked it up and poured the remains of the drink
down the sink. A clear head and not whisky was what he needed if he was going to sort this out.
By midday, he felt well enough to face the shower. Stashing the clothes he had slept in into the
laundry basket, he stood under the hot jets. He was beginning to feel reasonably human again but
knew it was going to take a lot more than a shower to undo the damage he had done.
Looking in the fridge, he saw nothing that he wanted to eat, so he decided he would have to go out
to get something from a nearby restaurant. At least he would have human company there. But what if
she stopped by while he was out? Not highly likely when he considered what she had said to him on
the intercom. But she might. Rustling up a salad out of the leftovers, he determined to sit it out at the
kitchen table.
But it was no good. The kitchen reminded him of her, of how she had inhaled the smells from his
cooking and of how elegantly she had walked in holding the wine bottle, the material of her dress
showing off her figure. Even the salad he was eating was made from leftovers of the meal he had
cooked for her. Gagging, he threw the salad in the waste bin and hurled the empty bottle in for good
measure.
Eventually, he slept again, curled up on the couch among the cushions, and inhaling the lingering
scent of her fragrance from them. That delicate scent made him cry, that and the memory of how she
had told him to cry, not to hold in his grief. Well, this was grief more real than any he had felt before,
grief that would last much longer than the weekend.
He hoped that after the weekend, he would see her when she came to Marco’s for her coffee. But
Monday and Tuesday passed without Gianna coming in on her break. Charlotte arrived, but he
studiously avoided her knowing looks and flirtatious remarks.
By Wednesday, he had given up all hope of seeing her again, and he didn’t think he should go
round to see her. He would be sent away, just as she had sent him away the night she found out the
truth. By the next weekend, he found himself wishing for a call from his father. Even talking to the old
man would be better than this numbing loneliness.
Is this the end of him and Gianna? He thought to himself. No, it can’t be. He has to do whatever he
can to get her back.
 AFTERWORD

D ear Reader,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read Hidden Secrets, Book 2 of Italian
Lovers Series. This is one of my best work to date and I’m excited to share this with you.
Join me to find out what happens to Alessandro and Gianna. The story is filled with romance,
love, drama and suspense.
Here’s what to expect.

The Revelation Secrets - Italian Lovers Series Book 3

Will their love survive a generations-old feud?
Gianna knows he’s part of a mafia. But she wants him anyway. Determined to make their
relationship work, she throws all of her energy into planning their engagement. But with high-flying
emotions and fiery Italian tempers, it seems things won’t be so simple.
When Gianna’s ex-boyfriend Angelo reappears in town and starts dating her jealous, scheming
co-worker, tensions run wild and Gianna watches them like a hawk. She won’t let them ruin her
chances with Alessandro, no matter what dirty trick they try and pull.
But when a chance meeting with Angelo’s mother drags up a long-dead family secret, Gianna’s
love with Alessandro threatens to tear itself apart. Their families have been locked in a deadly feud
for generations. Faced with mending the wounds of the past, will Gianna and Alessandro be able to
bring their families together? Or will the bad blood between their families destroy their engagement
before it can even begin?
And all the while, the authorities come closer to discovering Alessandro’s mafia connections for
themselves…
If you love passionate, high-flying romances with a dash of action and suspense which will
keep you on the edge of your seat, then you’ll love the next instalment of the Italian Lovers
series. Grab your copy here today!
 REVIEWS

I really hope you enjoyed reading Hidden Secrets: Italian Lovers Series Book 2.
It would be amazing if you could take the time to give me a fair and honest review of
the book on Amazon.
Thank you.
Love,
Avery
 OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

L isted below are other books in the series by Avery North:

Italian Lovers Series:

Coffee Love: ( Book 1)
Hidden Secrets: ( Book 2)
The Revelation: ( Book 3)
Blind Jealousy: ( Book 4)
Unexpected Attraction: ( Book 5)
Forever Love: ( Book 6)
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Boxsets:
Romance At The Spa: Eden Spa Series
Chiltern Hotel Series
Riad Dubois Series

Darlington Brothers Series:

Lucas: ( Book 1)
Jason: ( Book 2)
Logan: ( Book 3)
Tristan: ( Book 4)
Tyler: ( Book 5)
Joey: ( Book 6)
Rebel: ( Book 7)

Riad Dubois Series:

Exotic Allure: ( Book 1)
Unexpected Passion: ( Book 2)
Finding Freedom: ( Book 3)
Endless Desire: ( Book 4)
Another Chance: ( Book 5)

Eden Spa Series:

Seduction At The Spa: ( Book 1)
Reconciliation At The Spa: ( Book 2)
 Devotion At The Spa: ( Book 3)
Production At The Spa: ( Book 4)
Redemption At The Spa: ( Book 5)
Rejuvenation At The Spa: ( Book 6)

Chiltern Hotel Series:

Breaking Barriers: ( Book 1)
Breaking Christmas Traditions: (Book 2)
Breaking Liberty: (Book 3)
Breaking Rules: (Book 4)
Breaking Promises: (Book 5)
Breaking Boundaries: (Book 6)
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