virtual stranger to him. She probably knew his father better than he did. “Samantha is number three. Have you met her?” “Yes. Seems nice.” He uncapped a bottle of San Pellegrino and poured her a glass. “Young.” “I think she’s my age.” Dominic blew out a short breath. Shook his head. “Why would any man want to marry a woman less than half his age?” “Are you kidding? I thought all men wanted that. Besides, maybe I’m actually fifty, with really great skin.” He chuckled. “Nah. If you were fifty you’d be tougher.” “I am tough!” He swallowed a draught of the sparkling water. “Yes. You kind of are. I like that.” His smiling friend appeared with two steaming plates of lasagna. “As good as Mama’s?” she asked, once he’d gone back inside. Dominic leaned toward her. “Not quite, but don’t tell Alfie that. He might cry. You know how emotional we Italians get.” “Yeah. Right.” Dominic Hardcastle was as emotional as his father’s gunmetal Porsche Turbo. She dug her fork into the thick-layered pasta. Fast cars, fast women and a fast buck. That’s all this type of man cared about. She didn’t feel bad about going behind Tarrant’s back at all. If she had to play his son’s little games, she could do that too. She knew what was truly important. Spicy fresh tomato, aromatic ground beef, and basil exploded over her tongue. The pasta was cooked to perfection and the vegetables still crispy. “Mmm. Not bad.” He shot her a long-lashed sideways glance that almost made her lick her lips. But not quite. A big drop splashed on her nose. She looked up, and another caught her in the eye. “It’s raining.” Everyone grabbed their plates and glasses. Bodies crowded into the tiny storefront, which had only standing room at a counter. Dominic hadn’t budged. Black dots of rain marred the smooth gray wool of his suit. “The apartment I’m leasing is in the building next door.” He gestured toward a brick building with a nod of his head. “We’ll go up.” Will we, indeed? She opened her mouth to protest, but a thunderclap bruised her eardrums and rattled windows in nearby buildings. A flash of lightning floodlit the darkening sky. She shivered. “Bring the water,” he commanded, as he seized both their plates and marched away. She picked up the bottle and glasses from the bench. Shook her head, which was getting wet, and followed. He held both plates deftly in one large hand while he opened a plain metal door with a key. He motioned for her to go first. She dove through the door out of the rain. “Phew. I wasn’t in the mood to get drenched.” Goose bumps rose on her skin. From the cool raindrops, of course. Not from anticipation of what might happen next. “I think that dress would look good drenched.” “It might shrink.” “Yes.” A gleam lit his eyes like the eerie lightning outside. “You are evil.” “Shame you’re all alone in a strange building with me.” He led the way up the stairs. “I hope the power doesn’t go out.” Why could she envisage those dimples so clearly when she was behind him? Bella paused and shook her head, then she followed. She felt safe with him, which was totally ridiculous. She usually had goodinstincts about people, and she had no reason whatsoever to trust Dominic Hardcastle. He had her between a rock and a hard… Whatever. They walked past the row of metal mailboxes not unlike those that ornament the hallway of every walkup in Manhattan. They crossed the old black-and-white tile floor and mounted the standard-issue scuffed marble steps. Weird that a man so wealthy would stay in an ordinary rundown tenement building. He unlocked a battered door on the second floor and ushered her in. “Whoa.” Inside, the space contradicted every expectation. They stood on a landing with only a minimalist railing where the floor dropped away in front of them to reveal three open stories of space. A skylight in