Page 214 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘You have no grounds and you could not afford it.’

She rammed her woolly hat on her head, covering her ears. ‘I think you’ll find I can. My handsome salary and generous perks mean I’ve built quite the nest egg.’

‘Then you do not want to lose it.’

‘If I lose it, I go home and start again.’

He laughed. ‘Home to Ireland? You love living in Manhattan. You would miss the nightlife.’

‘My last night out was a date at the theatre. I made sure my boss knew I was going in the hope he’d leave me in peace for one night, and he still thought it acceptable to call me during the performance demanding I return to the office and help him find his Montblanc pen.’

The elevator had reached the ground floor.

Victoria walked out of it putting her coat on.

‘The pen was a gift from my father and it was a request, not a demand,’ Marcello defended himself as he kept step with her through the empty lobby.

‘A request phrased as a demand.’

‘You could have said no.’ Ignoring the unimpressed face she threw at him, he added, ‘You never did tell me who that date was with.’

‘Someone who wasn’t happy with me cutting and running on them for the sake of a pen.’

‘But you are good at finding things.’

They’d reached the door that exited onto the street.

‘And you’re good at losing them.’ Her hand reached for the door. ‘Ciao, Marcello.’

‘Come on, Victoria, be reasona—’

A loud bang from outside made them both jump, and cut away Marcello’s argument from his tongue.

‘What the hell was that?’ he muttered, darting to the nearest window.

The gentle fluttering of snow he’d risen to at his usual four a.m. had turned into a blizzard. He had to peer hard to make out the two cars that had collided right outside the entrance door.

CHAPTER TWO

THESNOWWASfalling so hard that Victoria didn’t realise Marcello had yanked open the driver’s door of the first crunched-up car until she walked into him. Her apology dissolved into the howling wind.

The driver and sole occupant, a middle-aged man who looked dazed rather than injured, let them help him out.

‘You take him inside,’ she shouted at Marcello. The cold was biting through her thick winter clothing. Marcello didn’t even have a suit jacket on to protect him. ‘I’ll see to the other car.’

‘What?’ he shouted back.

‘Take him inside!’

She then shuffled through what had to be at least four inches of snow to the driver’s side of the other car, and opened the door. The wind almost pulled it off its hinges.

Mercifully, there was only one occupant in this car too, a middle-aged woman who also looked more dazed than injured. Her airbag had been deployed and, after she’d fought her way out, she clung to Victoria, shouting an explanation as to why she was on the roads in such treacherous conditions that Victoria barely heard a word of. The wind was just too loud. Supporting the woman’s weight, she guided her to the building. Incredibly, the woman was wearing a pair of stilettos, making the going slow and dangerous. Any moment and the woman would lose her footing and they’d both go tumbling. When Marcello emerged before them, she didn’t know if she was horrified or grateful that he’d come back out.

‘Anyone else?’ he yelled close to her ear.

‘No, this is it! Go back in! I’ve got her!’

Ignoring her, he lifted the woman into his arms and disappeared into the whiteness.

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