“Are you absolutely mad?” Phoebe mumbled shakily.

“Do you live alone or with your family?” he questioned without listening to her words.

          Transfixed by her own bewilderment, Phoebe heard herself muttered her answer.

“Alone, but…”

          A winged ebony brow rose at that news, icy eyes briefly welding to her beautiful face.

“You are surprising, Phoebe Stone. Where do you keep your passport at home?”

“The first drawer of my desk, but why…?”

          Lorenzo De Angelis punched out a number on his smartphone.

“I don't see any alternative to a trip to Italy,” he informed her in a sardonic aside. “I could keep you without a phone, but I am not that heartless. And I can hardly ask my household staff

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