‘It’s reasonable for Ruggiero to want to concentrate on his duties,’ she said now.

‘Reasonable?’ Hope echoed. ‘This is Ruggiero we’re talking about.’

‘I take your point,’ Evie said with a laugh.

‘When was he ever reasonable about anything? Working, playing, eating, drinking, hussies-everything over the top.’

‘Surely his girlfriends aren’t all hussies?’

‘He doesn’t let me meet most of them. That’s how I know.’ Hope sighed fondly. ‘Evie, it’s such a pity you can’t split yourself in two-one for Justin and one for Ruggiero.’

‘Maybe I wouldn’t suit Ruggiero.’

‘You’re bound to. You’re as crazy about motorbikes as he is.’

‘Is it true that he actually owns a firm that makes them?’

‘Half-owns.’

‘Maybe I should go and talk to him,’ Evie said, laughing, and sauntered away.

It was later that evening when she caught up with Ruggiero. The guests had gone, and those family members who were staying at the villa had settled into small groups to enjoy a good natter. Justin was deep in conversation with his mother, and Evie found Ruggiero on the terrace, looking out over the lights of Naples gleaming against the darkness. With a sigh of relief she threw herself into a chair and kicked off her shoes.

‘Weddings are exhausting,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘And there’s another party tomorrow night. Mamma’s never happier than when planning a big get-together. I’m going to spend the day peacefully testing a bike.’

‘Ah, yes-tell me about your factory.’

He poured her a glass of wine, and sat on the low wall.

‘I found the place on its last legs a couple of years ago. I knew Piero Fantone-the owner-slightly, and I bought in. Things have gone well. Our bread and butter is the standard bikes that “normal” people buy, but the specials are the racing bikes that only the “crazies” want. We’ve started winning races. Now we’re bringing out a new racing bike, and I’m testing it tomorrow.’