Page 102 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

But it hurt too. Because perhaps it was true what he’d said, that he was broken. That when he’d been abandoned, a vital part of him had shattered, never to be repaired, and he certainly gave every impression of a man who’d had some vital emotional connection severed.

Yet, he wanted this; she could see it in his eyes. It was important to him; it meant something to him.Shemeant something to him.

She didn’t want to be a woman drawn to men in need of fixing. She’d really rather the man came fixed already. Yet she was in deep now, perhaps too deep. She’d seen his loneliness, even if he didn’t know the depths of it himself, and because she too was lonely, she knew how it felt. She knew how it hurt, and she didn’t want that for him.

That was why it was too late to leave him, she realised with sudden insight. That was why she hadn’t left the island already. Not only because of the lack of support and her anxieties about her pregnancy, but because of him.

And maybe he wasn’t broken, maybe he’d only been wounded. Which meant she didn’t need to fix him, but to heal him, and that was a different thing, that was something she could do. He obviously needed more than a kiss on the head and a sticking plaster, which was what she did for the kids she taught when they hurt themselves, but she could try. Perhaps even, in healing him, she’d find a measure of healing for herself too, such as being on his arm, in a beautiful dress, at an important party in London.

Perhaps he was even right that feeling loved was all she needed. It didn’t have to be real in order for her to be happy, and, if nothing else, at least she’d get a trip to London. So, she might as well go with him. What else did she have to lose?

Nell stared up at him, drawing out the moment shamelessly, because it wouldn’t do him any harm to wait a little for her answer, maybe even suffer a little. Then she eased herself out of the sun lounger and got to her feet, only inches between them. He smelled so good, making her breath catch and the hungry place between her thighs ache.

‘Nell,’ he murmured, soft and gravelly, the silver flames in his eyes leaping high. ‘You should not get so close to me. Especially when you’re only wearing a bikini.’

‘But if I’m going to be on your arm,’ she said, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, ‘we’re going to need to practise being close to each other, aren’t we?’

He smiled then, quick and blinding, the charm of it stealing her breath clean away, and perhaps taking her heart along with it.

Then it was gone, his features reverting to a slightly less tense version of his usual stony expression. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’ll have the staff pack for you. We’ll leave for Rome tonight. I’ll show you the schedule I have planned on the plane.’

CHAPTER TEN

ARISTOPHANESSATONthe terrace of Cesare’s villa in Rome and watched as Cesare’s daughter, Maya, ran over to where Nell was sitting at the other end of the long table with Lark. They’d been at Cesare and Lark’s for a couple of nights on their way to London, and Aristophanes had felt a burst of possessive pride at how much both Cesare and his wife liked Nell, as did their daughter.

Now the little girl leaned against Nell as she showed Nell the picture she’d drawn. Automatically Nell had put her arm around her as she asked Maya questions about the picture, listening intently as Maya explained.

He could see why Nell was so good with children. She gave Maya all her attention and was endlessly patient with the little girl’s chatter.

Cesare was talking to him about something, but Aristophanes wasn’t listening. All he could see was Nell, imagining her with their own son and daughter, talking to them about the pictures they’d drawn or playing with them, or even just holding them. It made his chest tighten, made him feel possessive, hungry almost, wanting things he couldn’t articulate.

Just then, Nell looked over at him and smiled before whispering something in the little girl’s ear. Maya instantly picked up her drawing and ran over to where Aristophanes sat, clambering up onto his knee without any apparent shyness and demanding he look at her picture.

Nell leaned on the table, her chin in her hand, watching him with a kind of gentle amusement that held such warmth that for a moment he couldn’t breathe. And he had the strangest sense that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and it was the same thing he was, about their children and what it would be like to have this. Them, together, with their son and daughter.

He smiled at her, he couldn’t help it, and his heart clenched when she smiled back in a perfect moment of understanding.

Howcanyou understand, though? When you don’t know what love is?

The thought was an ugly one, so he ignored it, and concentrated on Maya and looking at her drawing instead.

That perfect moment of understanding he’d experienced, however, lingered, the warmth of it colouring the rest of their visit with Cesare and Lark, and it was still there a week later, when Aristophanes had the limo pull up outside the sweeping stone steps of the deconsecrated church that had been turned into a five-star event space. The gala—a charity fundraiser—was being held there and already a sizeable crowd of onlookers and paparazzi had built up around the entrance.

It was going to be an exclusive event and Cesare had informed him that it was one of the highlights of London’s social calendar and thus well attended, which satisfied him immensely. He wanted the crowd to be large and the event important, so he could present Nell to as many people as possible. As he’d told her back in Greece, he wanted the world to see what a beautiful woman he’d managed to snare.

Now he stared out through the limo window, noting the press standing by the stairs, and feeling that same deep sense of satisfaction, plus an anticipatory thrill that he never experienced when going to social engagements.

It was her, of course. Tonight she would be on his arm, and for the first time in his life he found himself actually looking forward to getting out of the limo and walking up those stairs, to entering the venue, and having people notice him. Having them notice her.

Looking forward to showing her around and showing her off. Introducing her to people and having them be charmed by her instead of having to make awkward conversation with him. They would be captivated by her and how could they not? Especially when he was.

Completely and utterly.

He felt her hand rest briefly on his thigh and he turned to look at her, sitting beside him in the limo.

Good God, she was lovely.

He’d had gowns brought to his London residence in Knightsbridge for her to try on, and they’d all without exception been spectacular. But the one she’d eventually chosen was truly remarkable, of deep red silk that he’d thought would clash with her hair, yet somehow didn’t. The gown had little sleeves that dropped slightly off her shoulders while the bodice gently cupped her lovely breasts, the skirts flowing down gracefully over her little bump.

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