Modern Romance Collection February 2025, #5-8

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

I N THE COSY warmth of the castle kitchen, Kelly had just finished munching her way through a delicious breakfast when the housekeeper put a brown paper parcel on the table in front of her.

Kelly looked up at her. ‘What’s this, Graziana?’ she asked. ‘It’s not my birthday.’

The housekeeper smiled. ‘Something you need,’ she responded enigmatically.

More than a little intrigued, Kelly ripped open the paper to reveal several neatly folded pale red garments, which looked oddly familiar. Shaking one out, she found a roomy tunic with the word Ragno piped in ice-blue on the breast pocket, above a tiny logo of a sports car in exactly the same shade. She blinked. Of course they looked familiar. They were the uniform of the castello and worn by all members of staff—in fact, Graziana was wearing one right now. They had obviously been designed for all shapes and all ages because the matronly housekeeper from the village looked supremely comfortable in hers. But while the baggy trousers and tunic top might be practical for getting down on your hands and knees and scrubbing flagstones, they looked more like a pair of unflattering hospital scrubs. Accompanying them was a card bearing the company name, informing her that they were from the CEO and signed in Romano’s absence by an assistant!

‘Why such a weird colour combination?’ she said, almost to herself.

‘It is colour of Ragno racing cars,’ answered Graziana slowly.

‘Of course it is,’ said Kelly, rising from the table, her rapidly cooling coffee now unwanted. Hadn’t she seen all those photos of Romano on the Internet when the Ragno car had won yet another Premio Mondo race, pictured beside a gleaming ice-blue machine flashed with scarlet—usually with a similarly gleaming woman draped all over him?

She carried the package upstairs, her head buzzing and not just because Romano had provided her with a hideous uniform in a colour which didn’t suit her and clashed like mad with her red hair. It hurt that he seemed determined to reinforce her servile status and drive home the fact that she was no longer his lover. Accept it, she told herself fiercely. Live with it. You are nothing but his humble…

Cleaner.

Glumly, she pulled the roomy tunic over her head and stared at herself in the mirror, thinking how much had happened in the last twenty-four hours in this beautiful corner of Tuscany. After Romano’s departure, she’d spent the rest of the day with Floriana and her family, batting off curious questions from her friend about why her half-brother had left so abruptly. It had taken a huge effort to behave normally and in a way she’d been pleased when they had all departed for Rome, and her work could begin in earnest. Because the sooner it started, the sooner it would be over. She could collect her generous pay cheque, go back to England to lick her wounds and forget that her steamy encounter with the powerful billionaire had ever happened.

And that was another thing. She gave a heavy sigh. If she’d thought this might be a job in name only, she had been quickly disabused of that idea by a lengthy list of instructions sent by yet another of Romano’s assistants and delivered by one of the security detail which was now stationed in various cottages dotted around the estate. As she pored over the endless dos and don’ts of cleaning such an historic building, she began to get a true idea of the reach of the Italian billionaire’s network of power.

Just how many assistants did he have? And what must it be like if you had people to do your every bidding—if you could retreat behind the protective patina of money and influence any time the inconveniences of life intruded? Wouldn’t that make you arrogant and unknowable? She pulled a face at her reflection. In Romano’s case, yes and yes again. But he was paying her handsomely for the work and that was the most important thing. Had she forgotten the grim reality of her life back home? Because this was more than a job. It meant she would be able to pay her rent for the next few months until she got back on her feet.

No stranger to hard work, she soon got into a routine, toiling from dawn to dusk and deriving immense satisfaction every time she consigned yet another cobweb to the bin, or carefully polished one of the antique silvered mirrors. Bit by bit, the castle began to look less like a corporate venue and a bit more homely. She even picked some flowers and dotted them in a few strategically placed vases to make the vast space seem more welcoming and she thought they looked way better than the rather corporate selection of scentless hothouse roses which had been ordered in for the christening. Graziana arrived each morning with breakfast, leaving home-cooked food for the rest of her meals, and Kelly would often take her lunch outside, munching on a mozzarella salad while the birds sang and thinking that she’d never been anywhere quite so beautiful.

Night-times were different of course. They could be long and hard and painful. She’d spoken the truth when she’d told Romano that she wasn’t scared of being alone in the castle, and she wasn’t. Fear was being young and alone with your sick mum. Fear was the worry of being kicked out of your tiny bedsit and wondering if you’d be made homeless. But other things could certainly keep you awake. Bittersweet memories for a start, which flashed into her mind with disturbing clarity and made her shiver beneath the feathery duvet.

Romano undressing her.

Romano inside her, big and hard and warm.

Romano making that soft, wild sound which had made her wrap her arms tightly around him while he had lain there, shuddering almost helplessly.

He hadn’t been so protected by his patina of power then, had he?

In that moment she had felt so unbelievably close to him. In every way. As if two people really had become one, just like it said in all the books you weren’t supposed to believe. His gentleness and consideration had been almost as potent as her desire for him and a powerful emotion had welled up inside her, making her want to blink back tears, until she’d forced herself to realise that she was chasing after an illusion. Because Romano had left her bedroom as if the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels, hadn’t he? He had only ever wanted sex from her—and he didn’t even want that any more. He’d made that painfully clear the following morning, in the bright Tuscan sunshine, surrounded by birdsong and blossom, his brutal words making a mockery of the romantic setting. He’d made it sound as if he had done something he bitterly regretted and wished he could rewrite the past.

But nobody could do that. Kelly gave a mirthless smile. Imagine how different the world would be if you could.

At least today was her last day of work at the castle and tomorrow she was catching a flight back to England. She had stubbornly refused the offer of a lift in Romano’s private jet, so a commercial ticket had been booked to take her to Luton airport and a car was picking her up in the morning. The countdown to never seeing him again was nearly at an end.

The daylight was fast disappearing and Kelly was upstairs attacking an ancient wardrobe in the attic when her phone started ringing. Picking it up with dusty fingers, she saw it was an unknown number and, grateful for a little respite, clicked onto the call.

‘Hello?’

‘Kelly?’

Her heart did something complicated as a delectably recognisable voice rippled down the line, making her feel as if he were brushing verbal velvet over her skin. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to stay calm, but her the thumping of her traitorous pulse was off the scale. ‘Romano?’ she verified unnecessarily.

‘Of course it is,’ he shot back, and there was a pause. ‘What are you doing?’

A bizarre thought flew into her mind as she remembered a film she’d once seen about phone sex and the X-rated responses the woman had given to that very same question. ‘Dusting out a wardrobe,’ came her own repressive reply. ‘Don’t worry, Romano, I know it’s my last day but I’m not skiving.’

A few seconds ticked by. ‘I wish to talk to you.’

Her fingers squeezed the phone. ‘Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?’

He made an impatient sound. ‘In person.’

‘But you’re in Turin.’

‘No, I’m not,’ he growled.

Her heart missed another beat. ‘Where are you, then?’

There was another pause and when he spoke she could detect a different quality to his voice. There was resentment, definitely—but something else, too. Something which sounded like desire—although what would she know?

‘At the bottom of the hill,’ he bit out.

‘This hill? You mean here, in Tuscany?’

‘Of course I mean here in Tuscany !’ he exploded. ‘Where else would I mean?’

Ask him why. She should definitely ask him why. But part of her suspected she already knew the answer and if she challenged him, didn’t that run the risk he might change his mind? Because from where she was standing it seemed as though Romano was backtracking on his grim intention not to have sex with her again, and her heart gave an excited leap. Because wasn’t it kind of sexy and empowering that he was asking her permission to come here, rather than just rocking up to the house, as he was perfectly entitled to? ‘Okay,’ she said carelessly. ‘I’ll talk to you.’

Romano’s heart was racing as he cut the connection and powered his car up the hillside, waving away the security guards who swarmed to the gates and seemed surprised to see him. You and me both, he thought grimly, trying not to scorch the tyres as the Ragno came to a screeching halt in front of the castello . But clearly his brain wasn’t functioning properly and neither was his body, because something made him ring on the old-fashioned doorbell, as if he were the guest and she the proprietor. After a couple of minutes, she pulled the door open and when he saw she was wearing the uniform he had sent for her, he momentarily froze. Porca miseria! It swamped her tiny frame and didn’t suit her and the fact that in no way did she resemble the erotic fantasies he’d been nurturing about her should have been enough to kill his sexual hunger stone-dead. The scraped-back hair and sneakers only added to her subservient image—the plain silver studs at her ears functional rather than decorative. Yet somehow her very ordinariness was making his blood thunder.

He stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him, meeting the glittering question in her green eyes as she backed away and surveyed him warily from across the wood-panelled hall. Did she think he was going to leap on her, like the big bad wolf?

And didn’t he want to?

‘Who else is here?’ he demanded.

‘Nobody. Unless you count the men in black swarming around the place, whose binoculars keep flashing every time I set foot outside.’ Now there was a tilt of her chin and a flicker of the defiance he knew of old. ‘So, what do you want to talk about, Romano? I presume you’re not here to check up on my work—although I’m quite happy to escort you around the castello so you can run your fingertip along the surfaces to check for dust. Speaking of which—I’ve still got that wardrobe to finish and it won’t clean itself.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind cutting to the chase?’

Romano stared at her with frustrated amusement as he thought how differently this scene would have played out if it had been any other lover. Women who would have correctly interpreted his desire and mood and played along with whichever fantasy he demanded. Or perhaps even prompted it with a little fantasy of their own. They certainly would have bothered to brush their hair and apply a little lip gloss!

A pulse began to beat at his temple. For days now, he had been waiting to hear from her—some irrelevant message contrived solely for the purpose of resuming contact between them. It was why he had deliberately instructed his assistant to include his personal phone number on all communication with her.

But there had been nothing.

When before had he stared at the blank screen of a phone, willing it to ring, frustrated as he had paced around his giant office on Turin’s prized Via della Consolata? Never! Eventually, he had dialled the head of the security detail he’d assigned, demanding to know why there had been no report delivered to him, and whether or not the Englishwoman was safe. Totally safe, the ex-special services veteran had reassured him hastily, before launching into a detailed account of Kelly’s comings and goings. The signorina had walked here, and the signorina had walked there. For her lunch on the terrace, the signorina had eaten a panino with…

‘Have you been stalking her?’ Romano had demanded, quite unreasonably, and the bodyguard had attempted to defend himself.

‘ Mai, no, signor! But the signorina ’s hair is so bright,’ the hapless man had continued dreamily. ‘It is hard to miss.’

Abruptly severing the connection, Romano had taken matters into his own hands. If he wanted to see her, then why not just bite the bullet and get on with it? Which was how he now found himself staring at her across the wood-lined hallway, uncharacteristically unsure how to proceed as he stared into a pair of eyes as green as the tail feathers of a peacock.

‘I don’t want to waste time talking,’ he admitted, on a growl.

‘But you just said—’

‘I want to take you to bed!’ he declared.

Such heartfelt though undeniably clumsy words would never usually have passed his lips, but Kelly obviously failed to appreciate the honour he was affording her. It should have opened the floodgates, redirecting some of the unbearable tension which was building up inside him by causing the tiny redhead to hurl herself eagerly into his arms and to ask him what they were waiting for. But she didn’t budge, just lifted her chin with a quiet dignity.

‘You told me you didn’t want to have sex with me again.’

‘Okay.’ The shrug of his shoulders was reluctant. ‘I was wrong.’

‘Sorry?’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘I didn’t quite hear that.’

‘I was wrong!’ he exploded.

‘All right! There’s no need to shout!’

Romano’s eyes narrowed. Had he thought she was a stranger to games? In that case, why was she playing him now, like a connoisseur? And why the hell was he letting her? ‘But I meant it when I said I don’t want a relationship,’ he elaborated.

‘Do you always lay down your terms quite so brutally, Romano?’

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘Most women don’t need to be told.’

‘But I do?’ Her green eyes burned into him. ‘Because I’m so desperate, I suppose?’

He shook his head. ‘Because you know nothing of how adults conduct their sexual affairs.’

Still she didn’t move, just fixed him with that sensual, insolent look. ‘Do you want me to beg you, Kelly?’ he questioned mockingly. ‘Are you holding out for dinner by candlelight?’

‘We’ve already done that, remember?’ she returned flippantly. ‘And it didn’t end well.’

‘What, then?’ he questioned silkily as their gazes clashed and held. ‘Tell me what it is you want.’

He saw her defences crumble. Saw the way she chewed on her lip. The momentary hesitation as she read the expression in his eyes and then her own dawning recognition that she had pushed him as far as he would go and he would capitulate no further.

‘I want you ,’ she said, almost angrily, pacing towards him as if she were going to pummel his chest with her tiny fists. ‘You know I do!’

He gave a softly triumphant laugh as she reached him and he pulled her into his arms, and that unexpected fusion of laughter and desire was as potent as anything he’d ever experienced. Fierce need consumed him but he knew he needed to rein this in. To demonstrate to them both that he was fully in command. He must not give her the power of knowing just how much in her thrall he was at that precise moment. He lowered his head in slow motion—watching the way her lips opened to meet his, like a baby bird wanting to be fed, but deliberately he kept his mouth hovering just out of reach. He could feel the warm rush of her breath before, at last, he touched her and his pulse thudded loudly in his ears. How could a kiss possibly be this good? he wondered helplessly. Her breasts were pushing against his chest, their tips as hard as diamonds. His groin was like a rock and he felt her shiver violently as he deliberately pressed the outline of his erection against her.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed.

‘Does that daunt you?’ he taunted, dragging his mouth away.

Her eyelashes fluttered open as she met his gaze with what looked like genuine interest. ‘Should it?’

‘Porca miseria,’ he groaned. ‘You are so untutored.’

‘Then teach me,’ she whispered, and suddenly she was all soft, sweet submission. ‘Teach me everything you know.’

Her breathless demand almost felled him until desire consumed him once again, setting his body on fire and making him so hot for her he couldn’t think straight. He thought about taking her upstairs but he didn’t want to wait that long. He couldn’t. Yet the practicalities of stripping off those clown trousers forced him to abandon his most basic of instincts, which was to take her now—here—where they both stood. Her back against the panelled wall. Her panties on the floor. Her gasps echoing his own as he pushed deep inside her.

He sucked in a ragged breath. Surely it was better to demonstrate the steely constraint which always seemed to desert him whenever she was around and which was now balanced on a knife-edge. Because wasn’t that the whole point of this? Not just to feed his hunger, and hers—but to take his fill of her until both their appetites were sated and she could resume her rightful place in his life.

In the past.

Uttering a harsh expletive, he picked her up in his arms and began to carry her upstairs and she didn’t cry out in surprise or ask him what the hell he was doing, even though he could barely believe he was behaving in such a Neanderthal way. She just whispered his name against his neck—which made the walk up the sweeping staircase seem unendurable.

Yet he couldn’t seem to break out of this testosterone-fuelled zone as he kicked open his bedroom door and kicked it shut again, before carrying her across the vast space and setting her down beside the bed. ‘Now,’ he said, his fingertips roving over the bright red fabric of her uniform. ‘I’m trying to work out the most provocative way of removing this…’

‘What’s brutta ?’ she questioned, fixing onto the harsh word he had uttered underneath his breath.

‘Ugly,’ he growled. ‘No, not you—these,’ he said, disparagingly twanging the elasticated waistband of the matching trousers.

‘Well, you’re the one who decided I should wear them, presumably.’

‘Not me. One of my assistants,’ he amended impatiently—for did she really imagine he would trouble himself with such a minor detail?

‘Ah, yes. One of your trillions of assistants…’ Her interruption trailed off as he slithered the trousers down over her hips and since he knew she was holding her breath as she waited for him to touch her groin, he deliberately avoided the area.

She expelled the breath, her words becoming tinged with frustration. ‘Just how many assistants do you have, Romano—and is there some kind of pecking order?’

‘Shut up,’ he told her softly and, to his astonishment, she did.

‘I like you much better like this,’ he purred appreciatively.

‘Like what?’

‘Compliant.’

‘Make the most of it, it may not last.’

He laughed softly as he pulled the tunic top over her head, causing the red curls to tumble down around her shoulders as she stood before him clad in nothing but her underwear. Suddenly it felt as if his throat were composed of nothing but dust, yet swallowing gave him no relief. Was it the way her lashes shuttered to shield her incredible eyes in an expression which was close to shy which made her look so unbelievably provocative? And yet, there wasn’t a whisper of silk or lace in sight, so how come…?

‘You look delectable,’ he breathed raggedly.

‘D-do I?’

‘Utterly.’ He whispered his fingertips over her bra, puzzled as to how she could transform such a functional garment into something so tantalising. Maybe because her breasts were spilling out over the black fabric like two generous scoops of ice cream and the curve of her hips was emphasised by the plain panties.

‘Now you must…undress me,’ he instructed unevenly.

‘Must?’

‘Please, Kelly.’

Kelly nodded because the raw need in his voice was stupidly flattering, as was her suspicion that the word please didn’t often pass the lips of Romano Castelliari. Lips which were currently kissing the top of her neck in a way which felt…

Helpless?

No.

A man like this would never be helpless.

Her heart was racing as she pushed the black leather jacket from his shoulders and let it slide to the floor. Next came the dark shirt, which she tugged open to reveal the olive silk of his ripped torso. The shirt joined the jacket as her fingers moved tentatively towards his jeans because, in truth, she was rather daunted by the thought of taking them off. But wasn’t there a bigger part of her which was eager to learn how to please him? She hesitated for no more than a moment before sliding the zip down over his formidable hardness.

‘Your fingers are very nimble,’ he groaned.

‘Well, I do make jewellery for a living,’ she replied pertly, as his erection nudged against her hand through the black silk of his boxers and, instinctively, she began to circle her palm over the rocky bulge.

‘Don’t do that,’ he groaned.

‘What?’

He shook his head as he removed her hand, swiftly disposing of her bra and panties before removing his own shorts with equal efficiency. And now they were both naked and some tiny vestige of wounded pride prompted Kelly to ask why he’d changed his mind about having sex with her again, but something stopped her. Because mightn’t that make him reflect on the wisdom of this and mightn’t he change it right back again? And she couldn’t bear that. No, she couldn’t.

His skin was warm as he tumbled them down on the bed and she lay back against the pillows like a willing sacrifice as his glittering gaze raked over her in a way which was making her tremble. Because she wanted this. No. Needed this. Her body felt as if it would crumble if he didn’t make love to her again. Yet she was clinging to the hope—or was it fear?—that it couldn’t possibly be as good as last time. And if it wasn’t—if it had been a fluke—then surely that would put everything into perspective. Wouldn’t it enable her to stop thinking about him and stop wanting him so much? She would put it down to experience and be able to walk away.

It wasn’t a fluke.

Kelly realised that from the moment he started stroking her, and with luxuriously slow precision began to massage her nipples. The exquisitely sensitive flesh puckered on top of each engorged mound. She could hear her breathing quicken as he drifted his fingertips downwards, lingering a little on the swell of her belly before tangling themselves in the silken curls at the apex of her thighs. She held her breath as finally he located the place where all her nerve-endings seemed centred and began to beat a delicate tattoo on the tiny, sensitised bud. Pleasure and frustration merged into one potent shot and, writhing urgently, she gasped, her need for release growing stronger by the second. For a while it was enough, until suddenly it was no longer enough and her eyelashes fluttered open to find him watching her. Watching her reaction.

What did he see in her face as he slipped his finger inside her? A slow smile curved his lips as it came away slick and wet and she was shocked and thrilled when he actually licked it.

‘You come very quickly when I do this,’ he observed, almost clinically. ‘But I want to be inside you.’

This too sounded like the antithesis of romance but Kelly didn’t care. No point in chasing after something which didn’t exist, and she was so pent-up with longing that she couldn’t think of anything other than what he was going to do next.

‘What are you waiting for, then?’ she whispered, instinctively spreading her thighs for him, and he groaned as he reached for a condom.

And now she watched him —watched in rapt interest as he sheathed himself with hands which weren’t quite steady, observing the incredible tension which was shadowing his chiselled features. ‘Are you trying to unsettle me?’ he demanded.

‘How am I doing that?’

‘By looking at me with those big eyes. Making me—’

‘Making you what?’ she whispered as he moved over her.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he growled.

He filled her to the hilt. Long and hard and deep, and Kelly moaned as he began to move inside her. And this time there was no pain or shock or accusation. This time it was all about pleasure and she happily gave herself up to it. Sensation swamped her as the heat began to build, the ripples growing stronger and stronger as he orchestrated her response. He was velvet and steel. Carnal yet experienced. Powerful and passionate, his delving kiss only adding to her sensual overload. Higher and higher he took her, the deft thrust of his hips making it so that she could barely think or move or breathe. And then it was happening all over again. Sweet spasms convulsed her, jack-knifing through her body, and she was aware of his own urgent cry as he bucked inside her. And somehow that simultaneous orgasm—because, of course, that was what it was—felt like the most amazing thing which had ever happened to her. Was that why she choked back a little sob, because in that moment she felt so overwhelmed by emotion?

He lifted his head to stare down at her and something like ice entered his black eyes. ‘Please don’t cry,’ he said roughly and rolled away from her.

‘I’m not crying!’

‘Good. Because tears leave me cold.’

The spell was broken, his cruel candour shattering her illusion and momentarily taking her breath away. But she couldn’t accuse him of raising her hopes, could she? He wasn’t doing anything different from what he had projected he would do. This was all about pragmatism, not fantasy—so shouldn’t she match his emotionless attitude, if only to keep her pride intact? ‘So now what?’ she questioned, her deliberate air of insouciance making her voice sound casual.

He turned to look at her, the relief in his gaze apparent before his lips curved with faint amusement. ‘We fall asleep,’ he said, stifling a yawn. ‘And then I wake you. Or you wake me—traditionally by rolling those luscious curves against me to make me very, very hard—and we do it all over again. We repeat that as many times as it takes before we decide we’re hungry or thirsty, or both, and one of us gets out of bed to go and find us something to eat and drink—which will probably be you.’

‘That’s a very sexist remark, Romano.’

‘I don’t deny it. Although, if you remember, I have actually cooked for you before.’ His black eyes glittered as if he were being reluctantly forced to acknowledge the subtext of her question. ‘Are you asking for a timetable, Kelly? Do you want to know how long this will last? Because I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you anything other than at some point it will end. So…if you’re seeking permanence or a ring on your finger…if you want to change your mind and walk out of here, then, please, be my guest.’

Kelly met the challenge which gleamed from his ebony gaze, recognising this as a make-or-break moment. They weren’t the easiest words to hear, but he hadn’t said anything she didn’t already know. Yes, of course, she could coolly announce that she’d had second thoughts and know he would watch her walk away and not make the slightest effort to change her mind. He might even admire her more if she had the courage and the pride to do that. But why cut her nose off to spite her face when she wanted him so badly? She bit her lip. As long as she accepted that there was to be no fairy-tale ending, she would be okay. She had to be okay. ‘I don’t want to change my mind.’

‘Good,’ he purred and pulled her back into his arms.

She traced the shadowed line of his jaw. ‘But I meant what I said, about you teaching me everything you know.’

‘So that another man will one day benefit from my expertise?’

‘I guess that’s the logical conclusion.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Surely you don’t expect me to live like a nun for the rest of my life, just because you don’t want me? And there’s no point scowling at me like that, Romano. I’m just trying to be honest with you.’ She hesitated. ‘Will you be the same with me?’

He gave a short laugh. ‘I thought I had been.’

‘Not honest enough. I feel like I hardly know you.’

There was a pause. ‘That sounds very much like an ultimatum,’ he offered silkily.

‘Not really. I just…’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t want to feel as if I’m in bed with a stranger.’

‘But you know me better than a great many people, Kelly.’

‘Maybe I do, but there’s so much I don’t know.’

‘Like what?’ he questioned.

She could hear the note of warning in his voice and thought about choosing her words carefully, but there was no way of sugar-coating them—and wasn’t it dishonest to even try? He seemed to think he could get away with saying all these cold and horrible things without having to justify them to anyone—and wasn’t it time he did?

‘I’m curious about why you distrust women so much,’ she said slowly. ‘Why you’re so dead set against marriage and having children to carry on your line. I don’t understand why you neglect this beautiful castle, but can’t seem to let it go. Why, Romano?’ She sucked in a deep breath, her gaze taking in the suddenly rapid rising and falling of his powerful chest. ‘Won’t you tell me?’ she finished quietly.