He’d need a lobotomy to forget all the wonderful memories he’d made with her. But the alternative was even worse. There was no way in hell he was ready to let go of Alice Sommers.
The waiter brought them the check, and he handed him his credit card. All the while, she studied him, her expression sobering. With brows knitted and eyes darkening to a rich cocoa, Alice was onto him. “Why do you want those paintings so badly?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. Why was she curious about it now? “That’s quite the change of subject.”
“It dawned on me,” she said, reading his mind. “You never want to talk about it, and the other day you dodged my question. I saw the way you looked at that art. It’s not just business.”
The waiter came back, and Lorenzo added a generous tip and scribbled his signature. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“If I’m to help you get them, it does. You know why I need the money. It’s high time I knew why you want those paintings.”
He leaned forward. “If I tell you, will you consider New York City?”
She cleared her throat. “I can’t lie to you.”
“Just tell me you will try it,” he said, reaching for her hand across the table.
Instead of withdrawing her hand from his, she just stared at him. “Maybe.”
Progress. “I’ll take maybe.”
Chapter Nine
“Okay,” Alice muttered, even though she was pretty sure both of them knew that wasn’t the case. Still. After he had thrown the idea to compartmentalize their fling at her face, she realized she needed some control, too. Why give it all to him? At the end of this weekend, no doubt he would get over her in a New York minute.
Pushing back his wrought-iron chair, he rose to his feet, and she did the same. “Let’s walk.”
They strolled in silence until the swarm of tourists and pedestrians lessened. A stone statue of someone important, no doubt, occupied the middle of a cute plaza, where a gorgeous water fountain sprayed into the colorful flowers.
“Spill it, Lorenzo.” Before you change your mind.
He glanced both ways before giving her his undivided attention. “The artist was my father.”
“What?” She drew back, trying to remember the snippets of information Viola had given her about the man.
His jaw clenched. “I changed my name to my mother’s surname.”
“Why?”
“Because he had a past that could jeopardize all I sacrificed for.”
“Such as?”
“He was a drunk with a penchant for prostitutes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Weren’t all the artists like that back in the day?” Hell, she didn’t have to time travel. Lots of celebrities, musicians, even politicians would fit into the profile today.
He let out a sigh. “He had ties to an extremist terrorist group. In the world we live today, do you think that would be good for me? For anyone?”
Of course not. She chewed on her lower lip, unsure of what to say. “What kind of ties?”
“Some Italian extremists. I can’t tell you for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the money funded for their attempts to throw off the government was provided by a Middle Eastern group.”
“You are not your father.”
“No. But he took me to a couple meetings with him when I was a kid, even though I had no idea what the hell was going on. If this whole thing leaks, it could destroy me and Cara.” There was an edge to his voice. Fear?
Her heart skipped a beat. She always thought she sacrificed for her family, whether she enjoyed it or not. But what he would go through if news of his father got out, to have his entire career diminished because of his father’s links, was beyond cruel. “That’s why you won’t sell them. You don’t want anyone snooping into his life. Or yours. Why didn’t you tell me that in the beginning?”
“This isn’t the type of story I’m proud to share.”
No kidding. “You didn’t trust me.”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. “You are my kid’s nanny.”
Yes, she was. And she had to repeat that as a mantra so she wouldn’t let herself fall head over heels for the jerk. “Thanks.”
With a couple strides, he erased the distance between them. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
She pushed him away. “I get it,” she said, and hated how defensive she sounded. “Did your wife know?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I told her one day. After we were married.”
“Not before?”
“I thought this didn’t matter?”
“Not to me, but obviously it does to you.” Mattered