She’d put on her makeup with an edge toward drama, but still barely there. She liked the color of her lipstick, a nice deep red that showed off her full lips and good skin tone. Her shoes were perfect black heels with complicated straps that edged up her ankles and looked superhot. The shoes had to have cost as much or more than the dress. She loved the entire look.

The elevator pinged, warning her, and she caught up her clutch and hurried out to greet Joanna and Mario Bandoni, Joanna’s date, as they stepped into the foyer. Joanna looked awesome in her hot red dress. Both she and Mario were staring around the huge room, taking in everything so she had a chance to walk right up to them. Francesca couldn’t blame them. When Stefano was there in his apartment with her, she felt at home and safe, but the moment he was gone, she felt like a fraud, an intruder. She didn’t belong in his extremely wealthy world. She was very uncomfortable there.

Joanna’s eyes widened in shock when she caught sight of Francesca. Her mouth dropped open and she stared openly. Mario made a low sound of approval.

“You look . . . so good, Francesca,” Joanna said. “Beautiful. Really beautiful. I’m not certain you should go out in that dress. Has Stefano seen you?”

Francesca laughed. Joanna and Mario had boosted her confidence level immensely just by their reactions. “Not yet, but Emmanuelle and the others should be here in a few minutes. Stefano and his brothers are already at the club. They had a meeting or something. His family is crazy large. Cousins have arrived from New York and they’re showing them around. I’ve never seen so many cousins as Stefano has.”

“Most of them are male,” Mario pointed out. “He’s got Rosina and Rigina, Romano and Renato’s sisters. They’re pretty nice, although I’ve never said more than hello to them.”

“I nod,” Joanna said. “Females can be really bitchy and I never wanted to be put in my place so I was careful around them.”

“They put people in their place?” Francesca asked. She knew she looked good, but it was the dress. She didn’t run in Stefano’s circles. If his cousins decided to be mean to her, she’d much rather stay home. She really wanted to go out wearing the dress and shoes, but not if it meant feeling awful about herself when some woman made her feel like she didn’t belong.

“No, they’ve never done that,” Joanna hastened to say. “Get that look off your face, honey. You’re with Stefano. No one would dare to be mean to you.” She looked around the large room with its high ceilings and open floor plan. “Show us around. I’ve always wanted to see where Stefano lived. This is . . . amazing.”

Francesca’s stomach knotted. This was Stefano’s home. His private sanctuary. Instinctively she knew he wouldn’t want anyone peeking into his private world. Joanna looked eager, nearly rubbing her hands together with glee. Mario was happy to go along with her, but Francesca just couldn’t do it. Showing them Stefano’s home felt too much like a betrayal.

She shook her head. “I can’t do that. This isn’t my home, Joanna.” She kept her voice very firm.

Joanna pouted. “Seriously, Francesca? Come on,” she wheedled. “I won’t say anything. It’s not like he’d know. I really want to see where he sleeps. At least show me his bedroom. I can imagine it’s all sexy. Big bed. Satin sheets. Very hot.”

Mario laughed. “You’re giving me ideas, Joanna.”

“Keep getting them, Mario,” Joanna flirted.

Francesca wrapped her arms around her middle and held tight. There was no way she was going to show Joanna anything at all. She hated the idea of anyone fantasizing about Stefano’s bed and sheets, let alone about him.

Stefano had shown her around the enormous suite—and it was enormous. He had his own workout room complete with every machine imaginable. There was another room that he used for training in several types of martial arts and boxing as well as street fighting. His brothers and sister and sometimes his cousins trained with him there. She’d peeked into the large rectangular room and had been in awe of the equipment there as well as the mats and floor. There were racks of swords and knives and other weapons, some wooden, some not, on the far wall.

Stefano’s hand had been on the nape of her neck, or fingers threaded through hers, arm sometimes around her waist, as he’d taken her through his home. The tour had felt intimate, Stefano showing her his private world. She wasn’t about to share that, not even with her best friend. She felt the need to guard him, to protect him. This was where he came to relax and no one was going to invade his privacy, not even her friend.