Page 12 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘Why not?’ persisted Floriana.

‘Unless your friend has recently qualified in mechanical engineering, I fail to see how she could possibly be of use to me,’ he clipped out coldly.

‘I don’t mean an expert’s job,’ protested Floriana. ‘I mean something a bit more casual. What about cleaning? Please, Romano. Kelly’s a dab hand with a duster and the castle could do with a bit of a spruce. Nobody’s been living here for ages—and it shows.’

‘I agree with Floriana,’ said Rosa unexpectedly. ‘I discovered a cobweb on one of the upper floors earlier and it was distinctly dusty up there. Obviously none of the christening guests will be venturing up that far, but it does imply a certain sense ofdecay, which has never been present before. What harm could it do?’

‘Honestly, it doesn’t matter. It’s a mad idea,’ put in Kelly quickly.

‘A completely mad idea,’ Romano agreed, and this time made no attempt to hide the exasperation which tempered his words. But annoyingly, nobody was saying anything. They were all looking at him instead. His stepmother enquiringly. His sister pleadingly, and his brother-in-law, he suspected, with a hint of amusement lurking in his eyes. As though he were witnessing Romano being backed into a corner and was wholly enjoying this unusual spectacle. In fact, only Kelly looked as horrified as he felt and that rankled with him, too. Did she think herself too good to clean his castle? And it was that, more than anything, which made him slowly incline his head before lifting it again to clash with the green gaze of the redhead on the other side of the table.

‘Very well,’ he agreed, giving a heavy sigh. ‘If that is what you wish, I will allow you to clean my castle.’

‘Allow me,’ repeated Kelly so quietly that only he might have heard—or was he simply reading her lips?

‘For which, naturally, you will be adequately compensated.’ He frowned. ‘I imagine there is enough work to keep you employed for ten days—will that be sufficient?’

‘Oh, that’s fantastic. Thanks, Romano,’ said Floriana brightly. ‘What do you say, Kelly? Isn’t that the answer to all your prayers?’

What could she say? Kelly tried not to squirm in her seat, though it wasn’t easy because they had all turned to look athernow. And yet the only thing she could see was the hostile expression on Romano’s face, which annoyingly managed to be as sexy as hell. There were a million things she wanted to say, the chief one being a suggestion that he could take his offer and stick it where the sun didn’t shine.

But that would be like shooting herself in the foot, especially when an unexpected injection of much-needed cash would be a temporary lifesaver. Her problems were real and she couldn’t let pride stand in the way of what sounded like a genuine offer. And while there were many criticisms she could level at the controlling tycoon, instinct told her he would pay her fairly. Romano Castelliari wasn’t an exploitative man, she recognised—just a cold and occasionally cruel one.

‘It’s very generous you, Romano. Thank you. When would you like me to start?’ she added sweetly. ‘Shall I wash up after lunch? Polish some of the furniture before the service starts?’

The brief gleam in his jet-dark eyes was the only indication that he had acknowledged the barb. ‘That won’t be necessary. After the christening party have left for Rome,’ he said icily. ‘Will be when your employment officially begins.’

I guess that’s when my clothes turn into rags, Kelly thought irreverently, but she didn’t say another word.

CHAPTER FOUR

ROMANO STOOD BYthe font at the altar, his back ramrod straight as he waited for the christening party to arrive. The church was cool, with the light muted by the approaching dusk, and the powerful scent of lilies pervaded his nostrils with a cloying intensity. He didn’t like churches at the best of times but this one pressed all the wrong buttons. It had hosted Castelliari weddings, and baptisms—including his own—but for him it symbolised only one thing. He felt the ice of his skin and the cold clench of his gut. He had worked hard not to think about those earlier times and for the most part had been successful, but the rainbow light bleeding through these particular stained-glass windows onto the faded flagstones was enough to drag them up from the recesses of his mind.

He swallowed.

The funeral.

He remembered how obscenely small his mother’s coffin had looked as he had walked into the church behind it.

The memories shot back with painful clarity.

The congregation turning to regard the solemn five-year-old with pity pouring from their eyes. Had they been expecting tears? Hysterics? Had they been surprised—maybe even disappointed—by his total lack of reaction? By an expression he had overheard someone whispering:‘Freddo come il marmo.’

As cold as marble.

He hadn’t felt a flicker of sorrow. Why would he?

Even now he could recall how empowering it had felt to defy the expectations of those adults around him. To show them that he could be strong. That he didn’t need their damned pity.

His gaze flickered around the waiting congregation. There was nobody here who would remember that day. Most of them were dead—certainly the ones of his father’s generation, or older—and the others he had deliberately lost touch with. His stepmother hadn’t even met his father at that point and, though she must have known the story, she’d been wise enough never to broach the subject with him, and he knew for a fact that Floriana had never been told the story about what his mother had done to him. They had shielded her from the sordid tales of drugs and sex. They had wanted to protect his young half-sister, in a way they had never been able to protect him…

The opening of the church doors was welcome distraction from the ugly stream of his thoughts but, instead of a moment’s respite, he was awarded with the loud hammer of his heart as he saw the woman following his half-sister into the church. Floriana was carrying the baby, with Max beside her, holding onto young Rocco’s hand. But the only person Romano could see was the redhead who accompanied them, her frame so tiny and petite—her hair the brightest thing in the entire place.

He expelled an unsteady breath as she sashayed into view, her nubile grace as electrifying as ever. He had managed to avoid her since that excruciating lunch earlier, when… He shook his head very slightly for he still couldn’t believe what had happened.

When he had been railroaded into giving her a spurious kind of employment.

As his cleaner.

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