“Give me your cell. I’ll put my numbers in.”

This time her heart started pounding. She didn’t have a cell, and she knew instinctively he wouldn’t like that, either. It must have showed on his face because he swore savagely in Italian.

“Really? Damn it, Francesca. Do you know the first fucking thing about self-preservation?” His blue gaze glittered dangerously with pure menace.

Her stomach tightened. He was scary. Plain scary. Anger radiated off of him in waves. There he was. The man she’d first met. The man capable of just about anything—excepthis anger was over her safety and she understood him better.

“Some things have to be a priority, Stefano,” she said in a low voice, determined not to match his anger because she was embarrassed over her circumstances. “Like food and shelter. Even if I could save the money for a cell phone, I’d have to have a monthly plan. That costs money. I’m just getting on my feet.”

She tried to sound matter-of-fact. She didn’t want him to think for one moment that she was complaining. For the first time in a long while she had hope. She had a job where she earned better money than she had thought she would. She liked the job and the neighborhood. She had a roof over her head. She didn’t want him to feel responsible for her. She was responsible for herself.

He took a deep breath and, to her shock, nodded his understanding. His fingers left her chin. “I’ll catch up with you later.” Abruptly he turned and, slipping his hand under Theresa’s elbow, led her out.

Francesca sank back down into the seat. She was exhausted. Totally. Going up against Stefano Ferraro was a bit like going up against a force of nature. She felt a little battered and bruised and yet he’d been very gentle when he touched her.

She picked up her wineglass and took another sip. It was excellent wine. She couldn’t remember if she’d told him so. She hadn’t remembered to thank him for the meal—and it was a fantastic meal. If her stomach hadn’t shrunk so much she would have eaten far more. As it was, she was taking the rest of the pizza home with her. No way was she wasting it.

“Hey, girl!” Joanna slid into her booth. “Wow. Can I just say wow?”

“Where did you come from?” Francesca asked. She looked past her friend but she was alone.

“Eating with Stefano Ferraro? You didn’t tell me you had a date.”

“It wasn’t a date. He wanted to talk to me.”

“About?” Joanna prompted, and helped herself to a slice of the pizza. “Was this his glass? Because I’m totally drinking out of it. If you know where his lips touched, just point out the spot and I’m all about setting my lips right over his. He’s that hot.”

Francesca burst out laughing. Joanna had brought back fun into her life. She’d forgotten what fun was.

“I stopped by the deli and Zio told me Stefano had kidnapped you. It’s so romantic. I have to admit, I stalked the two of you, just to see how things were going. The Ferraros always sit back here and it’s hard to see them in the booth. They kind of disappear into the shadows. You did, too, so even though I bribed Berta with three dollars—that’s all I had—and she’s my friend—I couldn’t get seated close enough to the two of you to eavesdrop. So not fair.” She picked up the wine bottle and read the label. “Oh. My. God. Of course he got you this. It’s like the most expensive bottle I’ve ever heard of and there’s not a drop left.”

Francesca handed over her wineglass immediately. “I’ve had too much. It really is that good. But so is the pie.”

“Tito and Benito are the best. You can totally have an orgasm eating their pizza. But if I’d been sitting that entire time with Stefano, I would have had, like, ten orgasms. He smolders with sex. He walks into a room and doesn’t have to say or do anything.”

“His voice can do it, too,” Francesca confessed, and then covered her mouth. She’d had way too much wine to give that away.

Joanna laughed and then took a slow sip of the wine from Francesca’s glass. Her eyes closed and she moaned. “I’m in heaven right now. This has been the best day.”

“Really? Aside from your perving on Stefano Ferraro, what else happened?”

“I got a call from”—Joanna leaned close for dramatic effect—“Emmanuelle Ferraro. Can you believe that?”

“Stefano’s sister?”

Joanna nodded solemnly. “She’s the baby in the family. Can you imagine having five big brothers like hers? All of them are like Stefano. Definitely in charge. She never dates, but then I don’t think there’s a man on earth who would dare try it. They’d probably disappear, never to be found.”