Modern Romance Collection February 2025, #1-4

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

T HE RIDE BACK to the castle had helped elevate Faye’s mood again. She really had no right to feel hurt by Primo. He’d never lied to her. And he was right. This chemistry between them was unprecedented, and she had every intention of making the most of it while it lasted.

In the stables, they handed back their hats to the groom and said goodbye to the horses, who were getting hosed down before being fed. Faye felt very dishevelled and windswept, but also happy. She hadn’t indulged in horse riding for so long, and it had used to be one of her favourite activities. It made her think of how linear her life had become.

She came out of the stables and Primo was waiting for her, dressed in the same kind of waxy jacket she was wearing—loaned to them by the castle’s housekeeper. In his snug worn jeans and boots, hair messy, he suddenly looked a lot younger. And sexier than she’d ever seen him.

Primo was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before, and it sent an electric jolt all the way through her body. He walked over to her and cupped her jaw, eyes roving over her face.

He said, ‘Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?’

Faye might have laughed if Primo hadn’t looked so serious. Her hair was a wild tangle, any make-up she’d had on had been sand and wind-blasted off her face, and she was pretty sure she’d just stepped in horse manure.

But he’d never looked more gorgeous to her too. The beauty of the landscape, the earthiness of the smell of the horses and salty tang of the wild sea...all seemed to combine to create a mutual urgency.

Primo took her hand and led her through the back door of the castle to the boot room, where they slipped off their boots. Then, without stopping, he took her hand again and led her up through the house, straight to their bedroom.

At this point Faye couldn’t care less that they’d been given only one bedroom. She hardly noticed the gleaming dark wooden floors, overlaid with rugs. The heavy drapes. The blazing fire behind a guard. The huge, imposing four-poster bed. The portraits of strangers on the wall. The gold claw-footed bath by the window.

All she had eyes for was Primo, and all she could think about was how badly she needed to be naked with him. But instead of ripping off her clothes, he stepped up to her and cupped her jaw and her face. Then he kissed her, long and slow and deep, until her legs nearly gave way.

Only then did he start to pull off her jacket, as she did his. Hands tugged and pulled at shirts. Snaps on jeans. Underwear.

It was raining outside now, lashing against the window from an ever-darkening sky, but they were oblivious.

Primo lay down on the bed and pulled Faye over him so she was straddling his thighs. He cupped her breasts and she moved up so he could put his mouth on them. Her back arched and Primo moulded her body, waist and hips. He dipped a hand between her legs and felt how ready she was, and he positioned her over him, holding himself in his hand as she lowered herself onto him with slow, torturous care until he was fully sheathed in her.

They both stayed very still for a moment. Breathing in the sensation.

Faye couldn’t look away from Primo’s eyes, even though she wanted to. Because even here, in this fevered moment, she knew she should protect herself but it was impossible. He demanded her full attention and she had to give it.

Slowly, she started to move up and down, building the pleasure for as long as she could stand it. Until their skin was slick and their breathing was laboured.

Primo let out a guttural sound, and then, ‘Faye, I can’t...you’re killing me.’

He put his hands on her hips and held her still, while he took over dictating their pace. Faye gave up any illusion that she’d had control at all and handed herself over to the primal rhythm that took over their bodies, bringing them to a soaring climax that had Primo sitting up and clasping Faye close, their bodies shuddering in unison as pleasure ripped through them and broke them apart.

Faye had a vague sensation of Primo collapsing back onto the bed, taking her with him, and she couldn’t fight the urge to sink down into endless ebbing waves of pleasure.

When Faye woke it was dusk outside. Low lights were burning. The bedroom was empty, the fire low in the grate. She noticed a robe on the bed, and once again Primo’s consideration made her chest feel a little tight. Her first husband had never thought of such small but important details. She’d put it down to the fact that they’d been much younger, but she knew in her heart of hearts that if her husband had been a good, kind person it would have been evident even then.

She pulled on the robe and went over to where the bathtub sat in front of the window, showcasing a magnificent view of the beach and the sea beyond. It was full of steaming water. Was that what had woken her up?

Faye pulled her hair up, slipped off the robe and stepped into the bath, groaning softly as she sank down into the hot water and it instantly soothed tender muscles.

There was a range of luxury toiletries, and then she noticed a glass of chilled sparkling wine. This decadence truly was next level. She never indulged herself like this.

She picked up the glass and took a sip, relishing the bubbles slipping down her throat. She washed herself and sank back, glorying in the moment, still a little unbelieving that Primo had arranged all this so they could have...a honeymoon.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was meant to be getting on with her life and her work, and they were meant to be meeting up only at prearranged public events. But now...

Faye found that she couldn’t quite find the thread of thought she should be worried about and sank deeper into the bath.

After a few minutes she realised that she was hungry, so she got out and dried herself. She pulled on the most casual clothes she had with her—a soft, loose pair of trousers and a shirt. She wasn’t exactly prepared for this extended trip.

Leaving her hair up, Faye made her way down through the castle—thankfully it was on the modest side—to the kitchen and dining room area. She stopped in the doorway and her heart turned over before she could stop it.

Primo was dressed in low-slung jeans and a T-shirt, stirring something on the stove. There was an open bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. He looked outrageously sexy against the domestic backdrop, and Faye felt a little more of those precious defences crumbling into dust. At this rate she’d have nothing left to cling on to.

And then Primo turned around and she noticed the tea towel flung over his shoulder. Mentally, she sent up a plea to whatever gods were torturing her with this man.

Give me a break!

She came into the kitchen feeling shy. ‘Hi.’

He said, ‘I can’t claim to have done anything but put this over the heat and stir it. That’s about the extent of my domestic capabilities, I’m afraid.’

Faye’s nose twitched. It smelled divine. She came closer. ‘What is it?’

‘Apparently it’s Irish beef and Guinness stew. The housekeeper left it for us.’

Because they’d been too rampant to stop and discuss dinner with her earlier.

Faye busied herself finding bowls and plates. She poured the wine into glasses. The kitchen was large and pleasantly rustic, but with modern touches.

Primo dished the stew into the bowls. ‘You’re happy to eat here?’

‘Of course,’ Faye said. ‘There’s no point causing a mess in another room.’

They sat down and Faye ate some of the stew, closing her eyes in appreciation of the tender meat and delicious flavours. ‘This is amazing.’

Primo made a similar sound. Then he observed, ‘You’re pretty unspoiled for the heiress to one of America’s largest fortunes.’

Faye took a sip of wine. She felt deliciously relaxed. ‘I could say the same of you. Why aren’t you a playboy brat?’

Primo shrugged minutely as he broke a piece of bread off a loaf and dunked it into the stew. ‘Like you, that lifestyle never really interested me. And I was aware of people gossiping about my father at an early age. If I went into work with him I used to see how he wasn’t really respected, and that made an impression. I felt ashamed. I knew I didn’t want that. From a young age I knew I wanted to restore respect in our family name.’

‘That’s a pretty profound revelation to have. And your brother wasn’t interested at all?’

Primo shook his head. ‘Quin was the nerd—always had his head buried in his computer, coding or gaming.’

‘You were pretty good on that horse today,’ she said. ‘Where did you learn to ride?’

‘Actually...’ he said slowly, as if it was just occurring to him. ‘My mother taught me. She was a brilliant horsewoman. Her family bred racehorses in Brazil.’

‘Were you close before she left?’

Primo shook his head. ‘She was generally too busy fighting with my father. But I’d forgotten about her taking me horse riding. Quin would have been too small.’

‘Do you see her now?’

‘Not much—sometimes at social events. I’ve forgotten what number husband she’s on.’

Faye absorbed that. ‘I was pretty lucky with my parents, but I always wished I had siblings. I was lonely.’

‘What about friends?’

Faye shrugged. ‘Sure, I had my friends. But when I wasn’t at school the house always felt very empty, and I could tell my parents were sad.’

‘They couldn’t have more children?’

Faye’s insides clenched. How had she let them get onto this topic? She shook her head. ‘No. My mother had complications after my birth and couldn’t...’ She trailed off, because it was too painful to articulate the fact that Faye appeared to have inherited her mother’s gynaecological issues.

‘I’m sorry.’

Faye avoided Primo’s eyes, because she could hear the genuine compassion in his voice. She busied herself clearing their plates, and quickly changed the subject in case his questions became even more personal.

‘So, are you going to tell me where our next stop is on this magical mystery honeymoon tour?’

Primo sat back and watched Faye taking the plates over to the sink. He was well aware that she was deflecting talking any further on this topic of conversation, but even though he wanted to ask her if her family history had anything to do with why she was so adamant not to have a family, he decided not to.

A few things were striking him.

Such as how unlike any other woman he’d ever known she was.

She really was incredibly unspoiled. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would be happy to sit at a well-loved kitchen table without a silver service and eat a humble, albeit delicious stew.

She was loading the dishwasher now. He didn’t even know where his dishwasher was, and he felt a dart of shame.

She was barefoot. But not even the loose casual clothes could hide her beauty. Hair up, tendrils falling down. Face clear and fresh. It reminded him of how she’d looked on the horse...so happy.

He could get used to making this woman happy.

The thought appeared unbidden in his mind. He told himself it was an entirely legitimate thought to have about one’s wife. But on a deeper level Primo knew that it wasn’t necessarily just about making her happy for the sake of the relationship. It had something to do with making him happy too.

Happy . Since when had he needed to be happy?

He wasn’t averse to the idea, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to. And he realised now that perhaps there was something a bit sad about never acknowledging the need for happiness...

Faye was looking at him and waving a hand. ‘Hi, where did you go?’

Primo shook his head. He was losing it. And it was all this woman’s fault.

He stood up and topped up the wine glasses before giving one to Faye and taking the other for himself. Then he took her free hand and led her out of the kitchen, back through the castle to the bedroom.

She said, ‘You haven’t answered my question...where are we going from here?’

Primo brought them into the bedroom and closed the door. He put their glasses of wine down and stripped until he was naked. He directed an expressive look at Faye, and she slipped out of her clothes too.

A flush was rising over her skin and her nipples pebbled. Primo looked his fill, as she did him, and as the hunger clawed and bit at his gut, demanding to be slaked, he felt a frisson of unease. Shouldn’t the edge have been taken off by now? But it was as if the more he had of her, the more he needed.

He struggled to control himself. His body was betraying him spectacularly. He dragged his gaze up and all he could see was gold and green, mirroring back the hunger he felt.

‘You asked me where we’re going from here?’ he said.

‘I did?’

He nodded.

Faye said, a little breathlessly, ‘I’m not sure I care all that much any more.’

‘That’s good,’ he said, and he moved forward and caught Faye’s hips, pulling her towards him.

The moment her softer body touched his, he felt the beast roar within him.

Just before he kissed her, and threw them both back into the inferno, he said, ‘That’s good, because there’s nowhere else I want to be other than right here, right now.’

‘I have to go to London to take a meeting,’ Primo said.

Faye tried to hide her disappointment. They were having breakfast in the formal dining room of the Irish castle the following morning. It was making Faye nostalgic for their cosy, informal dinner in the kitchen the previous evening.

And what had happened afterwards .

She fought down the inevitable reaction of heat rising in her body.

Every time they made love it seemed to eclipse the previous time and she couldn’t figure it out. Surely it was meant to go the other way? That was how it had always happened for her before. Even with her first husband she couldn’t remember it being like this... So intense. So urgent. Maybe it was no harm that this spontaneous honeymoon was coming to an end.

He said, ‘You could come with me, and we could go back to New York together from there.’

She needed to get her wits back.

Faye shook her head. ‘No, it’s okay. I think I’ll go back to Dublin for the day and check out some galleries—they have some really interesting artists showing at the moment.’

‘London has galleries too,’ Primo pointed out.

‘I like to know what’s going on outside of the big art hubs.’

‘That’s why you’re so good at what you do.’

A burst of warm pleasure filled Faye’s belly. She smiled. ‘I try my best.’

‘I can drop you off in Dublin and go on to London.’

Faye felt a spurt of regret already, but she said, ‘That would be great, thank you.’

When she was getting off the private plane a couple of hours later, she was surprised by a burst of emotion.

Primo was standing with her, waiting for the door to be opened, and she turned to him and said, ‘Thank you for that...the castle...the horses...’ She was about to say, It was magical , but she amended it. ‘I really enjoyed it.’

The door was being opened now, and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tipped her face up towards him. ‘I enjoyed it too. I’m sorry we’re cutting it short.’

He kissed her then, and Faye felt an urge to change her mind about staying in Dublin. But she resisted the pull. His pull. He was scrambling her brain. She needed to reassess what was happening here—because all she could see was Primo.

He pulled back. ‘See you in Boston.’

She opened her eyes. ‘See you in Boston.’

But a few hours later Primo was already texting her.

Faye was in a city centre art gallery, trying to get her mind back into work mode, when her phone vibrated.

She took it out of her bag.

Hi.

Faye rolled her eyes, but even as she did so her heart was beating fast.

Aren’t you in a meeting?

Yes, but I’m bored. We should have stayed at the castle. It was fun.

Faye blushed. Yes, it had been fun.

She realised she was smiling. Because she was having fun now, texting Primo. And she couldn’t seem to care that it shouldn’t be fun .

He texted again.

What are you looking at right now?

Faye took a picture of the painting in front of her and sent it.

A couple of seconds later:

Is that upside down or meant to be like that?

Faye let out a burst of spontaneous laughter and then quickly covered it with a cough when a couple of other people in the quiet gallery looked at her.

There was another message.

I have to go to a stuffy dinner tonight. I wish you were here. You’d make it so much more interesting.

Faye’s heart thumped hard. She sent back:

We can’t always get what we want.

Pity!

Faye cursed him, but smiled.

Then she put her phone away, so she wouldn’t see any more cutesy texts from Primo.

She left the gallery and walked down the street, and tried to push out of her mind what he’d said.

We should have stayed at the castle.

She passed a boutique and glanced at it, then stopped as something caught her eye. In the window was a dress. It was short and made out of sequins of different colours, giving it an iridescent quality—golds and silvers and rust colours. Exactly the kind of thing she would normally never go for. Too flashy. Too exposing.

Normally.

Following an urge too strong to ignore, Faye went into the boutique and came out twenty minutes later with a bag and a half-baked audacious idea in her head.

London

Primo was sitting at a dinner table in one of London’s most famous restaurants. The sounds of the people around him chatting and laughing were muted, soaked up by the luxurious soft furnishings and thick carpet. The decor was dark and mostly leather. The atmosphere was hushed, discreet and very, very exclusive. He’d spotted one ex-American President on the way to his table—who, upon seeing Primo, had made a point of greeting him.

Primo never took things like this for granted. He’d worked to build respect for Holt Industries again after his father’s lacklustre attention, and he had no intention of squandering it.

What if Faye wants to divorce you in six months? whispered a little voice.

The notion gave Primo an unpleasant jolt. As if his footing wasn’t quite steady, even though he was sitting down. Not possible, he quickly reassured himself.

A kaleidoscope of images from the last few days came into his head. Faye was happy with him. Why on earth would she want to divorce?

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out and looked at it.

How’s your dinner going?

Primo smiled.

As boring as I predicted.

You don’t look that bored.

Everything inside Primo went very still. Slowly, he looked up from his phone. He surveyed the tables nearby. Mostly men in suits. Like at his table.

His phone pinged again. He looked down.

You’re getting colder.

No, he was getting hotter at the very thought that she might be here. Proof, if he even needed it, that this marriage was turning out to be more viable than he could have hoped for.

Primo turned his head the other way, to where there was a bar area. His gaze fell on a woman sitting alone. For a second he didn’t recognise her—and then his heart stopped dead. Arrested by the sight of her.

She was sitting on a high stool, dressed in something that appeared to be poured onto her body like a glittering sheath of shimmering colours. Two straps. Low-cut. Long legs, crossed, drawing the eye to her thighs, sleek and toned. Hair down and wavy. She was looking at him, and as he caught her eye she smiled and lifted the delicate flute in her hand in a salute.

Primo’s blood thrummed with adrenalin and shock and surprise and sheer...joy to see her.

And in that same moment, as if scenting competition, Primo sensed lots of other males’ gazes going to Faye. Alone at the bar. Looking like a vision. For the first time in his life, Primo felt a surge of something very primal. Possessiveness. A need to stake his claim.

He put down his napkin and cut through the conversation of the other men, saying, ‘If you’ll excuse me, please? There’s something I have to attend to.’

He stood up without waiting for anyone to acknowledge what he’d said and strode straight over to Faye. He caught her scent. Flowery and musky and her .

She looked at him, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. ‘Hello, do I know you?’

Primo put his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. ‘Oh, I think you know me very well. Intimately, in fact.’

Faye put her head on one side. ‘Come to think of it, you do look a little familiar... Isn’t it... Holden...something?’

Primo grinned. He realised he was having fun. A concept that he’d never really entertained before, much like whether or not he was happy .

He sent an explicit look to her hand. ‘A married woman? In a bar alone? Dressed to tempt the devil?’

Faye opened her eyes wide. ‘Are you the devil?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ Primo responded. ‘But right now I’m full of very sinful thoughts and desires.’

‘Would you like a drink?’

‘I’d love one. Whisky.’

Faye put out a hand. ‘Please...join me.’

Primo let go of her stool and sat in the one beside her. He watched her order a drink from the barman and his hands itched to reach out and touch her, claim her. But he was also enjoying this little game.

The barman put his drink down. Primo lifted his glass.

Faye brought hers to his and clinked it gently. ‘What are we drinking to?’

‘You tell me—you’re the one who enticed me over here.’

‘Spontaneous encounters.’

He clinked her glass. ‘Spontaneous encounters.’

They sipped their drinks.

Faye sent a glance towards the table where he’d been having dinner. ‘Won’t they be annoyed you’ve just walked away?’

Primo shook his head. ‘I don’t want to sound arrogant, but they need me more than I need them.’

Faye glanced quickly over again and back. ‘They do look a little disappointed.’

Primo beckoned to the barman and asked, ‘Can you send over a bottle of dessert wine—the 2009 Chateau d’Yquem—to my dinner companions, please.’

Faye made a low whistling noise. ‘Are you sure they’re worth it?’

‘It’ll ease the pain of my absence—as will the fact that dinner was on me,’ Primo said dryly, and raised a glass towards the table as the wine was delivered by a waiter. He looked at Faye. ‘So, are you here on business?’

‘Mainly pleasure for this particular trip.’

Primo let his gaze drop over her body. The dress dipped low between her breasts and he wanted to pull the sparkly material to one side so he could taste her. His body throbbed. He shifted in his seat.

‘And you?’ she asked.

Primo looked at her. ‘Business, ostensibly, but I’m fast being tempted to turn it into something more pleasurable.’

At that, Faye drained her glass of wine and stood up from the seat, bringing her body momentarily between Primo’s thighs. His erection twitched. And then it did more than twitch when she put a hand on his thigh and he felt her squeeze it.

‘I’m afraid I’m a married woman, so I’ll have to go before you tempt me to do something I might regret.’

Primo drained his drink and caught her hand as she was leaving. She looked at him, a picture of innocence and wicked siren all in one.

He said, ‘Let me tempt you. I promise it’ll be worth it.’

She pretended to consider, and then she said, ‘If you promise that no one will ever know.’

Primo made a cross shape on his chest. ‘I promise.’

Faye tugged him with her, out of the bar, and Primo followed, leaving in his wake an aborted business dinner and not one ounce of regret.

When Faye woke in the morning she was face-down in the bed, her head turned to one side. She cracked open an eye and saw the bed was empty. The previous evening came back in a rush of images and sensations. Sitting in the bar waiting for Primo to notice her. The strength of the jolt of electricity when he had. And the adrenalin when he’d just walked away from his dinner for her.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect. It was one thing, him surprising her, but she hadn’t known how he’d take her interrupting his work life.

But he hadn’t hesitated.

They’d left the restaurant, which was attached to one of London’s most exclusive hotels, and when they’d walked into the lobby Primo had said, ‘Please tell me you have a room here, or I’ll have to book one right now.’

The hunger in his voice and on his face had almost brought her to her knees there and then. She’d silently pulled a room key out of her bag, and he’d taken her hand and led her straight over to the elevator.

In the elevator, he’d asked roughly, ‘What floor.’

‘The top,’ Faye had answered, breathless. Apparently they weren’t playing any more.

As the lift had ascended Primo had pressed the stop button and said, ‘This is taking too long.’

It had been exactly the same thing she’d been thinking.

In the next second they’d been pressed together, mouths fused, kissing desperately. Primo’s hands had moulded her body to his, finding the slit in the dress, exploring beneath to find the place between her legs where she was embarrassingly ready. She’d gasped into his mouth as he’d stroked his fingers into her, tilting her hips towards him.

She’d climaxed around his fingers, unable to stop herself. She would have drawn back, mortified, but Primo hadn’t let her. He’d taken her hand and put it on him.

‘Feel what you do to me,’ he’d said. He’d rested his forehead against hers. ‘You have a hold over me, Faye...like nothing I’ve ever known before.’

And you over me , she would have said, if she’d been able to speak.

She’d felt a moment of tenderness for him. He’d sounded almost bewildered for a moment. As if he genuinely didn’t understand what was going on.

‘Do you mind that I came?’ she’d asked, before realising the double meaning and burying her face into his shoulder with fresh embarrassment.

He’d chuckled softly and tipped her chin up, not letting her hide. ‘No,’ he’d responded. ‘I absolutely don’t mind. I wonder if I’m dreaming you up.’

Faye had leant forward and nipped at his lower lip. She’d squeezed his firm flesh. ‘I’m real. Make love to me, Primo.’

The air had been so white-hot around them, Faye had wondered how their clothes hadn’t melted off.

Primo had said, ‘Not here.’

He’d pressed the button again, and somehow they’d managed to get to her suite without scandalising the respectable residents of the hotel. And then it had become a heat haze of desperation, and sinking into flesh, and wrapping her legs around Primo’s hips and begging, pleading for release, over and over again, until the dawn had streaked across the sky...

And now...

Faye lifted her head and squinted, and let out a little yelp. It was almost lunchtime. Then she noticed the note on stiff white hotel paper on the pillow.

She picked it up and turned onto her back to read it.

See you in Boston. P (Your husband)

It took Faye a second to realise she had a soppy smile on her face. And, as much as she tried, she couldn’t seem to rearrange her facial muscles.

The notion that Primo had permanently altered something in her very cells was a little disconcerting.