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a shy voice, she asked,
“You think you can you live with it?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Well, I like
Luca.”
    “I’m glad.
C’mon,” Luca said before she could enquire about his surname.
“Let’s get going. Rome is not just over the hill, you know? It’ll
be dark well before we get back.”
    He pulled her
to her feet and held her close as they walked back to the bike,
Riella still favoring her right ankle.
    “How did you
know I needed to get back to Rome?” she asked suddenly.
    Luca shrugged.
“Lucky guess.” He pulled her closer and placed another soft kiss on
her lips, mentally kicking himself. Damn it! He’d have to watch
what he was saying, or he’d blow his cover. Riella Smith may be
sweet and loving, but stupid she was not.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Riella sighed and
leaned into Luca. The wind was tugging wildly at her hair, but she
didn’t care. Her eyes were closed, and she’d tucked her face into
his chest, right beneath his collarbone, completely blissed out.
Instead of worrying about the speed they were travelling at, or
that she was wearing no protective gear whatsoever, or the more
important fact that her arms were clutched tight around a virtual
stranger’s waist, she’d never felt more safe, more loved and
protected her whole life. She smiled and nuzzled against his tight
pecs, pressing her ear closer to his heart.
    He’d insisted
she sit across the seat, in front of him, so he could be sure she
was all right. From the frequency with which he was peppering
kisses on her hair, she suspected he might have had a secondary
reason, but she wasn’t complaining. His tight arm around her
shoulders and his kisses on her hair – or anywhere on her body, for
that matter – suited her just fine.
    She’d been so
close to telling him everything, back in the Bardini Gardens, but
faint vestiges of an inferiority complex she’d picked up from
growing up on the road stopped her at the last moment. Not everyone
was prejudiced, she knew – people were people, no matter the race
they’d been born into – but many gadjee felt uncomfortable in the
presence of a gypsy. What if Luca’s feelings for her would become
tainted by her association with an undesirable race, now that he
said he could at least live with her name?
    Could she
continue to love him, if he decided he couldn’t love her back?
Would the hurt she would feel seeing the disgust in his eyes when
she told him she was a gypsy be enough to quell these all-consuming
emotions? She didn’t think so. This was the real thing, for her.
This was love. She was certain of her own feelings, but not of his,
and because of that she was unwilling to do anything that would
jeopardize her happy ending.
    Luca stopped
them in front of a cute Ristorante with colorful décor and
modernist paintings on the walls. He marched them right in and past
the counter separating the front room from the kitchens. No one
tried to stop them. It was as if he owned the place. Down a narrow
corridor, a left turn, and they were standing in front of a
glass-panel door, on which Luca knocked solidly twice.
    “Entra,” a male
voice issued from within.
    A smile
twitched on Luca’s face and he pressed down on the handle. “The
boss man’s in. You’re in for a treat.”
    The room they
were in housed a large sectional sofa and a whole host of coffee
tables smothered in house plants and framed photographs. From the
midst of a heap of hand-embroidered throw pillows, a man strongly
resembling a wine barrel struggled to his feet. His wide, jovial
face opened up in a huge smile when he saw Luca. Lively eyes
travelled down his arm and to the hand he had wrapped around
Riella’s. His eyebrows shot up and he clapped his hands, then
proceeded to rub them together in a joyful, excited gesture.
    He skipped
forward faster than a grasshopper, making Riella jump, and whacked
Luca on the shoulder. “Meraviglioso! Finalmente, eh? Ho pensato che
non avresti mai trova la giusta donna.”
    “E