Modern Romance Collection February 2025, #1-4

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

F AYE FELT PANICKY . How did he know? What had she told him about her husband?

‘I never told you that.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But your first marriage wounded you more than just on the surface. You were hurt.’

Faye avoided his eyes and picked at the pastry. Eventually she admitted, ‘I thought I was in love with him, but I was just naive.’

‘You were young, and you had a good example from your parents. Why wouldn’t you have hoped for a successful relationship built on more than just strategy after seeing that?’

Faye looked at him. Sometimes she felt a lot older than her years, having gone through a marriage and a divorce and the trauma of becoming infertile. But here with Primo and his non-judgemental acceptance she felt lighter. Somehow...younger again. As if there were still possibilities.

She shook her head at the fanciful notion. Good sex. That was all it was. Addling her brain.

‘Maybe,’ she conceded, and put some of the pastry in her mouth in case she asked any more leading questions.

It didn’t surprise her that he hadn’t been in love, but she didn’t like to admit that she felt a sense of relief. It disturbed her—the thought of someone being able to crack this man’s generally serene exterior.

They managed to eat and finish their coffee companionably enough, but then Faye realised something. ‘My clothes are all in my room, on another floor.’

Primo said, ‘I’ve arranged for the butler to gain access to your room and bring over some things so you can dress.’

Once again he was demonstrating an easy and generous courtesy. It made something swoop dangerously inside her. Chipping away at her defences. Faye felt churlish for insisting on maintaining her own space, but after last night, and how easily he could make her lose herself, it was more important than ever.

She stood up. ‘Thank you for doing that.’

‘They’re in the guest room.’

‘I’ll go back to my room before we head out, if that’s okay? Meet you in the lobby in about twenty minutes?’

‘Sounds good.’

Primo waited for Faye in the lobby. For the first time in a long time he was taking his foot off the unrelenting accelerator.

You mean the first time ever , prompted a little voice.

And it had happened without him really making a conscious decision. A little unsettling to realise now, even if Primo knew that everything was in good hands.

He’d handed over the responsibility for ensuring the smooth transition of absorbing MacKenzie Enterprises into Holt Industries. He knew Faye’s father would be watching everything carefully, and he did trust his man. But still, for someone who had taken up his role as heir to his father and devoted his every waking moment to it for the better part of the last two decades, it was only now he was appreciating the extent to which he’d abdicated his responsibilities. For a woman. When no woman before had inspired any desire to spend more time with her than necessary.

This is different. You’re married. You have to spend time together.

Primo shook his head at himself. He was being ridiculous. This was totally different. He was married to Faye. He had to get to know her. Surely this was to be expected of a marriage? A shifting of priorities into the more personal sphere?

He slipped sunglasses over his eyes. He couldn’t deny that he was finding the chase aspect of their relationship...entertaining. And he really didn’t think she was doing it for the thrill. His instinct all along about her had been that she didn’t play games. But that unsettling realisation that he’d been acting without thinking lingered, making him feel a sense of exposure.

Asking her to come to Paris... Deviating from the schedule... Enjoying her company in a way that he hadn’t expected.

She might turn to fire in his arms at night, but she was keeping him at arm’s length by day—exactly as she’d laid out in their agreement. He told himself that that was what he wanted too. It wasn’t as if he hoped for a more emotionally intimate relationship. But some emotional intimacy was unavoidable and necessary in order to cultivate a long-term union.

Clearly, she didn’t fully trust him, and for them to have a successful marriage that would have to change. So he was just doing what he could to foster that trust.

Ultimately, what remained most important to Primo was protecting his family legacy and name. Consolidating the success and wealth he’d already achieved. Faye was just the next step in that process—taking him and Holt Industries to the next level.

At that moment, the tiny hairs went up on the back of his neck and he turned to see Faye walking towards him as if conjured out of his thoughts. She was dressed casually, in loose trousers and a short-sleeved fitted jumper that drew the eye to her small waist and perfectly shaped breasts. Flat shoes. Perfect for the Paris streets. Hair loose around her shoulders. A crossbody bag with an iconic designer logo on the clasp.

She oozed class and elegance. But after getting to know her—as much as she would allow—he knew of the passion beneath the surface. And the spikiness that he suspected she hid from most people.

He liked it. Like the way her nipples felt against his tongue. Sharp...

She stopped before him. ‘What are you smiling at?’

He took her elbow to guide her out of the hotel. ‘Nothing...nothing at all.’

He was doing the right thing—investing time in his wife. After all, now she was as much a part of the future of Holt Industries as he was, and any sense of exposure he’d been feeling dissolved as they walked into the early-morning beauty of Paris.

When the six months was up she would have forgotten all about reviewing their marriage. She would trust him enough to jettison those terms and they would be a solid, successful unit.

They’d finished their tour with the gallery director and Faye was lingering in front of a painting that had transfixed her. People were trickling in now—the first visitors of the day.

‘You like that painting,’ Primo commented from beside her.

Faye tore her gaze away from the swirling abstract in vivid reds and pinks. ‘Lara Lopez. She’s a Portuguese artist. Up and coming. She’s becoming a name, and some clients have started collecting her work.’

Primo looked at the description plate. ‘It’s called Life , and donated by the artist.’

‘It’s a big coup to have your work displayed among some of the century’s greatest modern artists.’

Faye felt a little exposed at the way something about the painting called to her so viscerally.

Primo said, ‘That doesn’t explain why you like it so much.’

Now Faye felt really exposed. ‘I’m not sure...maybe the colours.’

‘I think it’s because it’s like you.’

Faye looked at Primo sharply. ‘What does that mean?’

‘On the surface you’re all cool and refined, but under the surface you burn—and you have a passion for life that I think you are afraid to show people.’

Faye’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly shut it again and said, a little testily, ‘Did you do a degree in psychology?’

Primo smiled easily. ‘Nope, completely self-taught.’

Faye made a sound like harrumph . The truth was that Primo’s assessment was scarily accurate. There was something about the painting that called to her because she felt its passion. Its hunger for life. All the things she was afraid of since failing at her first marriage and then becoming infertile.

She moved away and looked at her watch.

‘Somewhere else to be?’ he asked.

She glanced at Primo. He was too distracting. Dressed in casual trousers and a dark navy polo shirt that seemed to make his eyes pop even more. She’d been ultra-aware of him as the director had led them around the museum on a whistlestop tour.

She felt a little churlishly like asking, Don’t you? Because he seemed all too happy to wander around and take in the sights. It unnerved her, because she hadn’t factored in spending time with him like this.

Even so, she felt almost guilty when she said, ‘I’m actually going to Dublin for the night. There’s a dinner in Dublin Castle to celebrate some of Ireland’s biggest living artists as part of their annual culture week.’

Primo frowned. ‘That wasn’t in the diary.’

‘No, because I thought I couldn’t go. But since I’m in Paris, and it’s less than a couple of hours’ flight, I told them I could make it after all.’

His gaze narrowed on her for a moment, and then he said, ‘That sounds like an interesting evening.’

Faye almost had the urge to say something crazy like, Do you want to come?

But he was looking at his watch and saying, ‘I should get back to the hotel. I have one more meeting before I head back to New York. I have meetings there tomorrow.’

‘Of course. I need to get back and pack too.’

She was glad she hadn’t blurted out the invitation. That would really have been muddying the waters.

Primo said, ‘I’m glad you came to Paris... You know, Faye, I’d like to get to know you better. I think we can really enjoy ourselves in this marriage if you give it a chance.’

Faye felt all at once gently chastened, guilty, and something far less identifiable. ‘I... Okay.’

‘You can smile too, if you want. Your face won’t crack, I swear.’

It suddenly struck her to wonder when she’d started to hold herself so rigidly. After her divorce?

She forced herself to take a breath and smiled.

Primo shook his head. ‘One day, Faye MacKenzie, you’ll smile for real.’

Dublin

‘One day...you’ll smile for real.’

The words were still reverberating in Faye’s head later that evening as she was guided to her dinner seat in Dublin Castle’s magnificent and historic St Patrick’s Hall. There had been a drinks reception in the Portrait Gallery before the gala dinner, and Faye had met with some of Ireland’s biggest artists.

Usually an event like this would consume all her energy, as she would be thinking of people she could link the artists up with—galleries or clients—but this evening she was distracted.

Why did Primo care if she smiled for real? Why couldn’t he just accept the status quo, with them appearing together when necessary and spending the night together when it was convenient?

Although, that didn’t quite capture the heat and intensity of their chemistry. It wasn’t so much spending the night together as mutually combusting and passing out in a pleasure-induced coma.

Faye looked around her now and a sense of isolation struck her. Like at the Venice Carnival Ball, it seemed that everyone was paired off and chatting animatedly.

She was wearing a green silk evening gown, cut on the bias and low on the chest, with small capped sleeves. Flowing and romantic. She’d spotted it in a boutique window before leaving Paris and now, as she sat here, she realised she’d bought it because she’d imagined Primo seeing her in it and wanting her.

Now she felt silly. It was too whimsical and exposing—physically and emotionally.

Damn Primo Holt for making her behave like a teenager with a crush. And for making her more aware of her isolation and also of how tightly wound she was. She took a deep breath in a bid to force herself to relax. She took another sip of her sparkling wine that she’d carried into the dining room with her—and then promptly nearly spat it out again when she saw the object of her fevered thoughts being directed to the table where she sat and the empty chair beside her.

She couldn’t quite believe it, but the somersaulting sensation in her belly told her he was real. And his scent. Crisp and spicy and earthy.

He was wearing a classic black tuxedo and smiling benignly at her, ‘Hi.’

Then he looked down at her dress and back up. There was very explicit heat in his eyes.

‘You look...amazing.’

Her wish was fulfilled. As if a fairy godmother had heard her thoughts.

There were a million and one reasons why Faye should be prickling at the sight of Primo so improbably here, in Dublin. But the last few moments of self-recrimination had dissolved, replaced by instant pure desire, and Faye was revelling in the very obvious desire in his gaze. Exactly as she’d fantasised.

The truth was she was happy to see him, and she was too surprised to fight it.

‘Do you get a kick out of surprising people?’ she asked.

Primo took a sip of the wine a waiter had just poured for him. ‘Can’t say that anyone has ever inspired me to want to surprise them before...it’s uniquely you.’

She shook her head. ‘How did you even—?’

‘Once the organisers knew that I was your husband they were aghast that I hadn’t been included in the invitation, and were only too happy to accommodate me at short notice.’

‘What about your meetings in New York?’

‘Moved them. Quite easy to do when you’re the owner and CEO of the company.’

Everyone else around them faded away. Faye felt something inside her weaken. Maybe it would be okay to indulge in this...this crazy honeymoon period, or whatever it was, between them. She felt something bubbling up inside her—a lightness she couldn’t repress. And then a smile broke across her face at the fact that Primo had come all the way to Dublin to surprise her.

Primo drew back, as if shocked, and put a hand to his chest. ‘Could that really be a smile?’

Faye made a face then, and picked up a small bread roll as if to throw it at him. But her smile didn’t fade.

After the lavish dinner, Faye and Primo walked the short distance from Dublin Castle back to her hotel on the banks of the River Liffey. He held her hand and she shamelessly luxuriated in the tactility that she was beginning to trust more and more.

She pushed away the voices warning her to be careful.

Dublin was a young, vibrant city, and people spilled out of bars and cafés enjoying the unseasonably warm spring weather.

A few people stopped and did a double-take at seeing Primo in his tuxedo, and Faye couldn’t blame them. He’d opened his bow-tie and the top button of his shirt, and he looked as if he might have stepped off the cover of a book, with his dark golden hair and near-perfect features.

They passed a buzzing gay bar and Faye heard one man say to another sorrowfully, ‘All the gorgeous ones are straight.’

She couldn’t hold back a small laugh.

Primo said, ‘Careful, if the wind changes you might stay like that.’

Still smiling, Faye said, ‘My wee Scottish granny used to say that. Except she was a long way from her actual Scottish roots.’

‘Do you ever go back there?’

She shook her head. ‘No, we really have no links to the place any more—apart from family stories and some very distant relatives. Although I did manage to do a semester at Edinburgh University, which I adored.’

They were at the hotel now, and Primo picked up the key. One key.

Faye looked at him and he said, ‘I upgraded you— us —to the penthouse suite.’

She guessed Mark, her assistant, must have told Primo where she was staying. She had half a mind to resist Primo’s all too magnetic pull, but that would have taken a strength she couldn’t currently muster.

‘Okay.’

They took the elevator to the top floor, its doors opening into a corridor with a room at the end. The suite was spacious, and decorated with lots of wood and elegant soft furnishings. A balcony ran along the outside of the living space, overlooking the river.

Faye heard the sound of a cork popping and watched Primo pour two glasses of champagne, bringing one to her where she stood on the balcony.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, still a little overwhelmed that he was here. She said, ‘You didn’t have to come all the way here. We’ll both be back in Manhattan next week. We have that function in Boston.’

Primo rested on an elbow beside her and looked at her. ‘You don’t get it, do you? I want you, Faye... I haven’t wanted anyone like this in a long time. I find you exciting—and that doesn’t happen very often for me either. The fact that we’re married... I’d still want you even if we weren’t.’

‘You’re saying this could have been just an affair?’ Faye said, almost hopefully.

Primo shook his head. ‘I’m glad it’s not. I think marrying you is one of the smartest things I’ve done in a long time.’

Faye desperately tried to resist the spell he was weaving around her, making her think all sorts of things. She gestured at the invisible electricity between them. ‘But this won’t last...it never does.’

He didn’t disagree with her. ‘And then we’ll still have enough to make a very successful marriage.’

‘You don’t like to fail, do you?’ Faye observed.

He smiled, and it was a shark’s smile. ‘Not an option.’

She shivered slightly. She wondered what it must be like to be on the other side of this man’s charm and interest. If you crossed him...

Like you, you mean? When you have every intention of walking away after six months? Not revealing the truth of your infertility?

Faye desperately reassured herself that she’d made it very clear what her terms were and couldn’t be accused of deception.

To stop thinking about that, she leaned forward and kissed him, pressing her mouth to his, revelling in the firmness of his lips. For a moment he let her kiss him, and then he reached for her with his free arm and pulled her into him, taking control of the kiss and showing her that any sense of control she might have had was just an illusion.

The wine glasses were put down and that electricity crackled in the air around them as they blindly made their way to the bedroom, shedding and divesting themselves of clothes as they went.

Faye vaguely wondered if it had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d slept with him. It felt like years ago. She was desperate, hungry, reaching for Primo as soon as he was naked, putting her hand around him and hearing his sharp intake of breath.

She was naked too, and Primo cupped her breasts, feeding her tingling flesh into his mouth, making her moan softly with need. She took her hand off him and moved under him, spreading her legs around him, and Primo needed no further enticement to join their bodies in one deep thrust.

Faye’s head was thrown back as pleasure climbed inexorably through her body, tightening every nerve-ending until she was held on the brink of shimmering ecstasy. But Primo wouldn’t release her.

She looked at him, and his eyes were on her. She had nowhere to hide. Bared utterly. And yet she couldn’t look away.

‘Please... Primo...’

His face was flushed, a lock of hair falling onto his forehead. He was in her, and around her, and they were one in a way that she knew terrified her. But she couldn’t unpack that now. When he reached down between their bodies, touched her where they were joined, he finally released her from the exquisite tension and they both fell over the edge and into pleasure so intense it almost hurt.

When Faye woke she was alone in the bed, like the previous morning in Paris, her body heavy with a bone-deep sense of satisfaction and her mind full of snapshots of the previous night. It had been as raw and elemental as the first few times and it didn’t look to be waning any time soon.

He’d followed her to Dublin.

The lightness she’d felt on seeing him yesterday evening lingered. It was an unusual sensation for Faye, who’d got used to barricading herself behind protective walls since her first marriage.

She rolled over and buried her head in the pillow, letting out a groan of embarrassment but also feeling a fizzing kind of joy.

A tap on her bare shoulder made her go very still. She dug her face out of the pillow and squinted at Primo, standing by the bed in a robe, holding a coffee cup. She was very dishevelled and naked. She pulled up the sheet, feeling shy, which was ridiculous.

‘Morning,’ Primo said cheerfully, putting the cup down near the bed. ‘Coffee. I seem to recall it having a positive effect.’

Faye might have scowled at him, but her face didn’t seem able to arrange itself into that expression. She leaned over and picked up the cup, taking a sip. The coffee had an almost instantaneous effect, waking her out of the dreamy state she’d been in. Good.

She put the cup back down and looked at Primo. ‘Don’t you have meetings in New York?’

‘I pushed them again. I’m extending our trip—if you can rearrange your schedule. We’ll be back in America in time for the Boston event.’

Her mouth dropped open in shock at this pronouncement. When she’d recovered, she asked, ‘And in the meantime we’ll be...?’

Primo sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his hands either side of her. ‘Enjoying a honeymoon—which I believe is a normal event for most newly married couples.’

Faye gulped. ‘I thought we weren’t most married couples, though.’

The sizzle in the air between them made a lie of Faye’s words. Primo confirmed it when he said, ‘On the contrary, I think we’re proving to be no different to most newlyweds, and if anything it would serve us well to indulge this...phase.’

‘Phase...?’

Primo very deliberately pulled the sheet down, exposing Faye’s chest. His hungry gaze moved from her mouth to her breasts and back up. Instantly she was wide awake and burning inside.

He bent forward and pressed his mouth to the upper slope of one breast. Faye sank back against the pillows. Maybe Primo was right. Maybe if they did indulge in this...phase, it would burn out quickly and some kind of sanity might return. And then she could remember what this was supposed to be about. A means to an end.

Six months of marriage to ensure her family’s legacy would be protected and secured for the long term.

Six months to indulge in this man, who was slowly but surely rewiring her brain to demand a level of pleasure that was truly unprecedented.

She reached for his robe and pushed it off his shoulders. Primo pulled back and shrugged it off, and then he was naked, his skin gleaming with dark golden perfection.

He whipped away the sheet completely, but before he touched her again he said, ‘So, do you think you can rearrange your schedule?’

Faye had never been more exposed than she was right now, practically panting in her desperation for Primo. Her brain was too feverish to try and figure out why this might not be a good idea so she gave in, and a little more of those defensive walls crumbled in the face of Primo’s bold charisma.

She said, ‘I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’

And then let herself be persuaded that indulging in a honeymoon was merely the most effective way to burn themselves free of this inconvenient chemistry as soon as possible.

Eight hours later

Faye’s heart was pumping and her limbs were shaking. She fought to get her breath back and she couldn’t stop smiling.

Breathless, sweaty, when she could speak again, she said, ‘That was...amazing.’

Primo grinned, and there was a smugness to his expression that didn’t even bother her.

‘I aim to please.’

Between Faye’s legs, the powerful and majestic horse shifted. She leant forward and patted her neck. Her horse was a little smaller than Primo’s stallion, but no less impressive.

She looked around her, getting her breath back. They’d just galloped along the shore of an empty beach in the westernmost region of Ireland. Not another soul shared the space with them. The sky, in typical Irish fashion, had gone from blue to grey, sunshine to showers within minutes. And back again.

Primo had surprised her—after they’d started their day again—by taking her to a small private airfield just outside Dublin, where a plane had been waiting to fly them to Galway.

Then a chauffeur-driven car had taken them along the most unbelievably scenic coastal route to a small, fully staffed private castle, overlooking one of the most beautiful beaches Faye had ever seen. Windswept, with a wild sea foaming at the shore.

Primo was a superb horseman, sitting in the saddle with an easy grace. And for a tall man, that was saying something. It was also the first time Faye had seen him in jeans, and if she’d thought him sexy before, now he exuded something far more dangerous.

The horses started to walk back down the beach—clearly this was a regular run for them. When they’d arrived, the housekeeper had shown them around and fed them a delicious late lunch, and then they’d been shown to the stables and the horses, where a groom had kitted them out with boots, jackets and hats.

Faye looked out to the sea now and shook her head. ‘I think I’ve dreamt of a place like this but never thought it could exist.’ She looked at Primo who was watching her. ‘How did you even know I could ride a horse?’

And then she thought of something, and for a moment she felt the tiniest prick of pain. A pain she really shouldn’t be feeling.

Primo had opened his mouth, but Faye put up a hand, forcing a smile. ‘No, you don’t have to tell me. Presumably whoever did their research into my background saw that I had competed in cross-country horse trials.’

Primo had the grace to look a little shamefaced.

Faye told herself this was a good thing. It would be very easy to be totally swept away by this impromptu trip to one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. And she hated it that it felt a little tainted now. The bubble of joy burst.

She wasn’t a fool. She knew Primo was investing his time and energy in her so he could turn her into an amenable bride.

She was more glad than ever that she’d laid out her terms from the start. If he hadn’t insisted on marrying her, this really might just have been an affair, and that was how she needed to view it from now on.

Before he might read anything into her response, she gave the horse a gentle kick with her heels and said, ‘Race you back to the castle.’

Primo sat in his saddle for a moment, watching the sheer beauty in motion that was Faye on a horse. She and the horse moved as one. Her hair streamed out from under her hat. Her face just now had been beaming with happiness, pink with exertion. Eyes shining. And it had caused an ache to form in Primo’s chest so acute that he’d almost put a hand to it.

She’d literally taken his breath away.

He realised that Faye was infinitely more beautiful than he’d given her credit for.

He’d never experienced anything like this before, because he’d never have indulged a lover in case she got the wrong idea. And also, he had to concede, because no lover had ever inspired him to want to do something so fanciful.

To book an Irish castle for a night.

To ride horses on an empty sea-swept beach.

To eat oysters by a blazing fire.

But, as he’d told her, he intended for them to have a honeymoon—and wasn’t this the kind of thing honeymooners did? After all, he had decided in Paris that forging as strong a bond as possible between them would be a good investment in this marriage. Hence his decision to follow her to Dublin and surprise her.

But at that moment a series of images from the previous night appeared in his head in Technicolor X-rated detail. As much as he’d like to think he was in control of his actions, he had a niggling sense that any sense of control was an illusion. That in fact he was being driven by far more base impulses.

Nonsense. Of course he was in control.

So why did it bother you so much to see that beaming joy disappear from her face when she’d realised how you knew about her prowess with horses?

Primo could have told her a white lie—that he’d had no idea. But he didn’t lie. He had known from the file he’d had prepared on her.

He felt defensive now. Why should that be a problem? It wasn’t as if either of them was under any illusions as to why they’d got married.

The point was how they’d forge a successful relationship from this point onwards.

Primo nudged his horse into a canter and swiftly caught up with Faye. He caught her horse’s reins, bringing both animals to a halt.

She looked at him, eyes wide. ‘What are you doing?’

He leaned forward and took her chin in his hand and kissed her hard. She tasted of sea salt, and he could feel the texture of sand on her face. His kiss gentled, and she resisted for a moment before softening. Something inside him exulted, but he fought temptation and pulled back.

‘There was nothing in any file about this between us, Faye. This chemistry is what will take our marriage to another level.’

She looked at him, and her eyes were very green and gold, reflecting the landscape. He couldn’t read her and it irritated him. Usually he found women easy to read.

But then she smiled and pulled back. ‘If this is your attempt to try and beat me, it’s pretty pathetic.’

She nudged her horse and cantered away from Primo towards the castle.

He shook his head at himself. There was nothing to be concerned about. He was letting the Irish mist rolling down off the hills get to him. He went after Faye, and she beat him back to the stable-yard by a nose.