Chapter Seven
Vitorio met Katherine at a small Italian café along the broad boulevard. He ordered for her—scallops and salad and the most delicious pasta she’d ever had. She’d upped her exercise routine since coming to Milan—the food was far too good and she was resolved not to gain weight. She had the feeling that her masters wouldn’t approve of a few extra pounds. Trying to eat this meal daintily was impossible. She could tell before she dove into the wonderful food that she’d pay for the meal with an extra fifteen minutes of aerobics in the morning.
“So, McPherson, how are your chains?” Vitorio asked. He could be a gracious Italian gentleman, charming to a fault—the kind of man women crawl over—the olive Latin skin and sleek black hair and the features of an aristocratic sort were the
