Picture of Innocence by Jacqueline Baird

to taunt him with the words he had used the last time they were together. Let him hang himself, she thought. There was something immensely satisfying in knowing that whatever Lorenzo was afterhe was not going to get it. Instead she picked up a chip and ate it.
    ‘We do?’ she queried. Stringing the superior devil along was going to be fun. Breaking off a piece of battered cod, she popped it in her mouth and glanced up at him with fake concern, licking her lips.
    ‘Yes.’ Lorenzo tore his gaze away from the small pink tongue running along her top lip. ‘Remember the wedding?’ She arched a delicate brow in his direction. Stupid question—of course she did. ‘Unfortunately Teresa Lanza called in to my mother to fill her in about the wedding—including the fact that Lucy Steadman was the bridesmaid. Then she showed her the photographs she had taken—quite a few of you and I.’
    ‘Is this story going anywhere?’ Lucy cut in. She had finished her fish and chips, and she had finished with Lorenzo, but sitting close to him on the wall, with the brush of his thigh against her own, was testing her resolve to the limit. Stringing him along had lost its appeal.
    ‘The upshot is that my mother wants me to invite you to visit her in Italy. She also wants to commission a portrait of Antonio. Obviously I don’t want you anywhere near her. I can put her off for a while, but unfortunately she is determined lady. If I don’t ask you she says she will ask you herself. If she does, you are to refuse any offer she makes.’
    ‘Don’t worry—I will. I’m not a masochist. Listening to
you
denigrating my brother and I was more than enough,’ Lucy said and, standing up, walked along the harbour to the nearest littler bin and deposited the carton in it.
    Lorenzo followed her. She noted he hadn’t eaten even half the pizza as he tipped it in the bin, and wasn’tsurprised. But she
was
surprised he had come all this way to tell her not to speak to his mother. That hurt. As if she needed telling again how low he thought her.
    She walked on.
    ‘Wait, Lucy.’ He grasped her upper arm. ‘I have not finished.’
    ‘I have,’ she said flatly, glancing up at him and doing her best to ignore the warmth of his hand around her arm. ‘I’ve got the message loud and clear. I am not usually impolite, but if by any remote chance your mother calls me I will make an exception and tell her to get lost. As you said, no contact of any kind ever again between a Steadman and a Zanelli can only be a good thing—and you can start by letting go of my arm and getting out of my life for good.’
    His face darkened, and if she wasn’t mistaken he looked almost embarrassed, but he did let go of her arm and she carried on walking back the way they’d come.
    ‘I don’t want you to be rude to her,’ he said, walking along beside her. ‘My mother does not know what I know about Damien. She believes your brother did his best to try and save Antonio, and I don’t want her disillusioned and hurt again. You must make no reference whatsoever to my argument with Damien. Total silence on the subject—do you understand?’
    He glanced down at her, and Lucy had the spiteful thought that he had had no problem disillusioning
her
when she had for a moment imagined herself falling in love with him, or hurting
her
feelings. Why should his mother be exempt?
    ‘Okay, I’ll let her down gently but firmly and keep silent about you,’ she said, with a hint of sarcasm in her tone that went straight over his arrogant head.
    ‘Good. I propose that you regretfully suggest anyreminder of Damien and Antonio upsets you so much you could not possibly face the prospect of bringing it all back—something along those lines. I’ll leave the excuses up to you—women are good at dissembling—and in return I will give you the bank’s holding in Steadman’s. Naturally my lawyer has drawn up a confidentiality agreement that will be binding on both sides. I have it in the