In Milan, Lara and Philip Adler checked into the Antica Locanda Solferino, a charming hotel with only twelve rooms, and they spent the morning making passionate love. Afterward, they took the drive to Cernobbia and had lunch at Lake Como, at the beautiful Villa d'Este.
The concert that night was a triumph, and the greenroom at La Scala Opera House was packed with well-wishers.
Lara stood to one side, watching as Philip's fans surrounded him, touching him, adoring him, asking for autographs, handing him little gifts. Lara felt a sharp pang of jealousy. Some of the women were young and beautiful, and it seemed to Lara that all of them were obvious. An American woman in an elegant Fendi gown was saying, coyly, "If you're free tomorrow, Mr. Adler, I'm having an intimate little dinner at my villa. Very intimate."
Lara wanted to strangle the bitch.
Philip smiled. "Er...thank you, but I'm afraid I'm not free."
Another woman tried to slip Philip her hotel key. He shook his head.
Philip looked over at Lara and grinned. Women kept crowding around him.
"Lei era magnifico, maestro!"
"Molto gentile da parte sua," Philip replied.
"L'ho sentita suonare il anno scorso. Bravo!"
"Grazie." Philip smiled.
A woman was clutching his arm. "Sarebbe possibile cenare insieme?"
Philip shook his head. "Ma non credo che sarai impossibile."
To Lara, it seemed to go on forever. Finally, Philip made his way over to Lara and whispered, "Let's get out of here."
"S
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