Page 230 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

If he’d known about Grandma Brigit sooner, he’d have offered to pay for her to move in with Victoria as a guard dog to keep suitors away until the scientists had honed their human cloning technique.

‘You must have spent your childhood hiding under your bed from her,’ he said.

She laughed lightly. ‘My sisters would disagree but she wasn’t that bad. Saying that, I was always the closest to her.’

‘She let you get close without burning you to a crisp?’ he asked in fake astonishment.

Her smile was wry. ‘I suffered my share of singes but...’ She was silent a long moment. ‘I think it’s because I was a baby when she came to live with us. I was a distraction for her grief at losing my granddaddy. Or a comfort. I don’t know. I don’t remember, what with only being a baby. But she always looked out for me. Stopped me always being swallowed up by my sisters.’

Marcello felt a pang of empathy for the fire-breathing dragon. There was only one lesson in life he would sell his soul to have never experienced, and that was grief.

‘What do you mean about being swallowed up?’

She was silent another long moment before quietly saying, ‘I’m the second youngest of five girls. I had no clearly defined role in the pack. I wasn’t the oldest or the baby—Sinead came eleven months after me—or even the rebellious middle child. I was the one whose name no one could get right first time. If Mum wanted me, she’d always call one of my sisters’ names first, which I know is normal but it always felt like I was the only one whose name wasn’t on the tip of her tongue, the insignificant one. I could hide in my room for hours and she wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t there.

‘Grandma was terrifying but she knew exactly who I was. She never forgot me or my name.’

An image danced in his mind of a pretty little redhead sitting on a floor, stepped over and unnoticed by the crowd surrounding her.

Blinking the image away, his stare was caught by the grown, beautiful redhead curled on his bedroom sofa, the beautiful redhead whose stifled laughter had stayed at the forefront of his memories like a warm glow for months before he’d grabbed the opportunity to employ her.

‘There is nothing forgettable about you, Victoria,’ he said with simple honesty.

Her eyes widened.

There was an almost imperceptible rise of her shoulders and then, just as he was about to jerk his stare away, he saw it.

The dark pulsing in her eyes and the creep of colour over her cheeks.

A bolt of electricity exploded in his chest.

Silence chimed loudly.

The hazel eyes widened into orbs. A trembling hand pressed against her breast...

Suddenly fighting for breath, Marcello wrenched his stare to the sheet gripped tightly in his hand. Auto-pilot kicked in and, the room in pitch silence, he fought the under-sheet until it submitted, then worked quickly to place the pillows and duvet from the guest room onto the bed, all the while trying to convince himself that he hadn’t just seen what he’d seen. Told himself it had been a trick of the light. A manifestation of his desire in the form of an illusion.

He had to force himself to look at her again. Had to clear his throat to speak. ‘I need to make some calls. I won’t be far, just in the office.’ The office he’d had a second desk added to so Victoria could work from the apartment when needed. ‘Do you need anything?’

Even darker colour stained her cheeks and she hastily turned her face away and shook her head.

‘Bene.’

He left the room without another word.

Victoria’s knees were drawn to her chin, her mouth pressed tight against them.

Her heart was racing.

He’d seen.

Marcello had seen.

Oh, God.

Hot blood was whooshing in her head.

She couldn’t think what to do.

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