She couldn’t help but be flattered, in spite of herself.
“Sì, that one. I thought so the moment I saw you.” He added a few drops of what she guessed to be quinine to the drinks, which given the prevalence of malaria in Italy wasn’t an awful idea. He swirled the glasses to mix it and then brought them over to the sofa. “For you.”
“Thank you.” She took a tiny sip and barely repressed a grimace. To say it was raw would be an understatement. To be polite, she took a second sip, and then lowered the glass to her lap. “Signor—”
“Stefano, please.”
“Stefano . . .” She licked her lips and was rewarded by a sudden gleam in his eyes. It was all the opening she needed. While a seduction wasn’t strictly needed for tonight’s performance, lust could blind him to a lot and make him less suspicious of her actions.
Sorting through various stage personas with an unerring feel for her audience, Vi tried to decide which one would get the best results. Given the attention he paid to his grooming and the blatant masculinity of his posture, she picked cultured and feminine.
Letting her posture relax into something more curved and sinuous, she leaned back on the sofa. Her hope was to undermine his ability to think by provoking his baser nature. Loose lips weren’t always female ones. With a little coaxing, men could turn just as chatty as a teenage girl.
“Stefano,” she said again, running her fingertip along the hem of her neckline, drawing his gaze to the swell of her breasts. “I hope you don’t think I’m old fashioned, but I like to get to know a fellow before I . . . well, before we become close friends.”
“Would you like that, for me to become a close friend of yours?” he asked with lazy interest.
She looked up through her eyelashes at him. “Maybe. Would you?”
A purely masculine smile curved his lips. “Very much so.”
“Then tell me a little about yourself.” She brought the gin drink to her lips again and paused. “You seem very rich.”
He laughed. “I am. And about to be even more so. Does that interest you?”
“Very much so,” she said, echoing his syntax with a teasing smile. “What actress isn’t thrilled by stories of success?”
He cocked a dark eyebrow. “Then perhaps you would be pleased to learn I own a villa near Tivoli, a famous vineyard, and two businesses here in Rome.”
“My, my,” she cooed. “You must be important.”
His expression became smug. “The prime minister himself has come to dinner several times. And my family was a good friend to Victor Emmanuel II. My father and the king used to hunt together.”
“My goodness! Your father was really the king’s friend?”
He puffed up in indignation. “I do not lie, signorina.”
“Of course not!” she said soothingly. Then she leaned forward and rounded her eyes. “But what of the fascists and the Nazis? How did you avoid being imprisoned if you are a royalist?”
He snorted. “Those fools. They are just as in awe of titles as Americans.” Then he stiffened as if realizing what he’d said. “No offense, of course, signorina.”
“Vi,” she reminded him, and then waved away his worry with a small laugh. “And how can I be offended by what is true? I do love everything royal, which is funny given how our country fought to be rid of kings.”
“Indeed.” He smiled indulgently at her. “What else may I tell you about myself?”
“Well, are you married? Do you have children?” she asked, despite knowing the answers. Might as well find out how truthful the man was.
His dark eyebrows rose. “Would it matter? I should imagine even if we become close friends, we might have others as well?”
Tapping her lips, she pretended to consider the idea, though really she wanted him looking at her mouth and thinking of kisses. “I suppose, as long as I don’t need to worry about an angry Sra. Conti barging in on us.”
He frowned slightly. “I don’t know that word ‘barging,’ but if you mean will she disapprove, I doubt it, since she is far away in our villa, doing what she likes.”
“So you are married!” Vi said, acting surprised. “Do you have children as well?”
Pride seemed to swell his chest. “I do. A son, who is my life.”
“How wonderful!” Vi said with fake cheerfulness, even as her stomach twisted. She had been right. Given his statement, there was little chance that Stefano would ever let the child leave Italy.