Page 215 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

Virtually snow-blind, Victoria shuffled one foot in front of the other until she reached the steps. Clinging tightly to the railing, she made it to the top. Shoving the door open, she practically threw herself inside only to collide straight into rock-solid man.

An arm hooked around her back to steady her.

Blinking snow out of her eyes, she looked up and into Marcello’s piecing blue stare.

The easy smile that was more familiar than any other spread over his face. ‘I know you are cross about a bagel but do you have to keep slamming doors into me?’

His dryness collided with the surging relief that they were both inside and safe. It raced up her throat and expelled from her body as a short burst of laughter. The piercing blue eyes crinkled and then he burst into bemused, disbelieving laughter of his own.

After one quick squeeze of her waist and one dropped kiss on the top of her snow-laden hat, he stepped away from her, shaking his head whilst running his hand through the melting snowflakes in his thick black hair.

Even though she knew intuitively that the squeeze and kiss were Marcello’s own relief manifesting, it still made her blink. Marcello was very Italian in his mannerisms, very tactile...but never with her. Everyone who crossed the threshold into his office was greeted with a handshake and a kiss to each cheek. Victoria had sat in on countless interviews kicked off with the same greeting.

It was his charm, Victoria had long ago decided, that along with his smile disarmed people and stopped his tactile manner crossing into unwanted behaviour. It was part of the package that had made an ordinary Roman rise to the top and conquer Manhattan before his thirtieth birthday, when he finalised an audacious takeover of a multi-billion investment group. A strong work ethic, a body that required little sleep and an instinct about people that enabled him to spot a potential troublemaker or a latent genius within two minutes had been the other components in his rise.

Now aged thirty-six, he was the king of his own castle with a devoted workforce. Victoria doubted there were many workers in the Guardiola Group who wouldn’t take a bullet for him. It was her own devotion that had held her back from resigning the fifty-odd times she’d considered it before. Because, as selfish and demanding as Marcello was, he was also generous and fun to be around. His bad moods were rare and always followed with an apology. He complained about Victoria’s predecessor quitting but he’d been partly to blame for that by giving her an incredibly generous maternity package followed by an eye-watering bonus because, he’d confided with great, if misplaced, authority, ‘Babies are not cheap to raise.’

That bonus had been the equivalent of two years’ full salary.

When the woman in question, Denise, had brought the baby in for everyone to coo over, Victoria had not long started as her replacement. For all his complaints about Denise leaving him, Marcello had greeted her like a long-lost sister and spent so long cuddling and fussing the baby that the child probably left thinking he was his father. He didn’t even complain when the baby brought up milky sick on his Armani suit.

And yet, for all his tactile ways, with Victoria, he was strictly hands off. For her birthday, he’d had their office decorated with balloons and banners, given her tickets to a Broadway show—her last full night off without him bothering her about something inane—she’d longed to watch but couldn’t remember mentioning to him, and generally made a great big fuss of the day, all without giving her the smacking kisses to the cheeks everyone else received on their birthdays. The most he’d ever done was shake her hand when they’d got together to discuss the job he’d poached her for.

Shaking off the weird unsettling feeling his brief display of affection had provoked, she cast her attention to the drivers of the collided cars.

Quickly establishing they were both physically fine, she arranged for the concierge, who’d reappeared even more frazzled, to keep them fed and warm until the emergency services arrived, whenever that would be.

With nothing more to be done for them, Victoria rewound her scarf around her neck. ‘You should go up and get some dry clothes on,’ she advised Marcello. He had to be freezing after his Action Man heroics. If it was anyone else, she’d suggest a hot bath too.

His white shirt was drenched from the melted snow and she was having to make a concerted effort not to let her eyes dip down to the naked chest it now transparently covered. Dark hair that covered much of his ripped torso and brown nipples were clearly visible.

She’d only seen him topless once, around a year ago. Coffee in hand, they’d just left their office for the boardroom when an absent-minded tech guy had walked into him. Coffee had splattered all over his shirt.

Victoria’s first boss, the one Marcello had poached her from, would have gone berserk and probably fired the tech guy on the spot. Marcello had reassured him the coffee was cold so no harm had been done, advised him to watch where he was walking in the future, then dived back into his office and through to the mini-dressing room at the far end where his emergency clothing was kept. Victoria had been checking her emails while waiting for him when he came out sticking his arms into a fresh shirt asking her something she’d long forgotten.

What she hadn’t forgotten was the fuzzy sensation she’d experienced to see his bare chest. It was much the same sensation as when she imagined him asleep in his bed.

‘So should you,’ he told her.

‘I will.’ She set off to the door. ‘Go and drink your coffee and get warm.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Home,’ she answered, surprised he’d asked.

He gave her the look he’d once given a trio of college leavers pitching for an investment in their start-up business of beer brewed with a twist. His expression when he’d actually tasted the beer had been such a picture that she’d barely held it together until they were finally alone and she could let it out. The two of them had laughed so hard tears had been streaming down their faces.

This look was the look given to the initialWe’ve decided to improve beer by adding strawberries to itpitch: utter incredulity that someone should think of something so stupid.

‘You are not.’

‘You’ve experienced for yourself how bad it is out there and the storm’s barely started. Imagine how much worse—’

‘You are not walking home in that.’ Marcello jabbed a finger in the direction of the window. ‘It is too dangerous.’ And there was not a chance in hell he would let Victoria step another foot in it.

‘I’m not hanging around here waiting for it to pass. They’re saying the storm could last a couple of days.’

‘I don’t care if they are predicting it to last for weeks. You’re not going anywhere until it is safe.’ He positioned his back against the door, barring her exit. ‘You will stay with me.’

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