Page 137 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘Do not be flippant. You cannot marry that girl—I forbid it!’

Forbid...?

Listening, Clemmie could not believe this woman’s stupidity. Did she not know her son at all?

Do you?asked the voice in her head.

The answer a few days ago would have been a confident yes. But a few days ago, while she had always known he possessed charisma off the scale, she had not seen his sex god persona up close and personal.

Not that close, complained the voice in her head.

‘Forbid...?’ he echoed.

Though the response was not directed at her, Clemmie shivered. It was made of steel, with an inherent hauteur that made him a stranger—a dangerous stranger. She had caught glimpses of this side of him over the years, but she had never really appreciated that it was as much a part of him as his teasing humour—probably more so.

‘You are normally so...fastidious, Joaquin,’ his mother complained, and there was a note of pained bemusement in her penetrating voice. ‘That girl...she is not even... She was always a positively feral little thing...’

‘“That girl”is a woman. And she is and always has been the one authentic person I know. If anything, she is too good for me.’

There was a short silence while Clemmie stood still, emotion welling in her throat to hear his impassioned defence of her.

The silence was broken by a nasty little laugh that filled the room like a poisonous echo. ‘Oh, my...she really must be good in bed.’

From where she stood Clemmie saw Joaquin surge explosively across the room until his nose was almost pressed against the big mullioned window. His fist was clenched and raised as though...

She gave a little sigh of relief when he lowered his arm. She had been afraid for one split-second that he was about to punch the glass.

He spoke then, but in Spanish—something sharp and short that drew a gasp from his mother that made Clemmie wish she could translate it.

‘I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve a son who is so... How dare you? Can you imagine what people will think? Can’t you just sleep with her?’

‘What gives you the idea that I care about what people think? What you think...?’

‘Fine—become a figure of fun. But at least get a decent prenup...’ A sound of exasperation echoed down the line. ‘And get her a stylist. I doubt the girl has ever seen the inside of a beauty salon—and that hair! I don’t think she even combs it from one week to the next. Is she pregnant? Did she trap you?’ she wondered out loud.

Clemmie bit her tongue quite literally as she fought the temptation to reply to this awful woman herself. Knowing her impulse was not an option, that left disappearing and pretending she had never been there, or alerting Joaquin to her presence.

‘Mother, I think you should stop talking now. Before I say something thatyouwill regret. My life is none of your concern.’

He snapped his fingers with an air of finality, but without any real belief that his words would get through to her. This was a message that had not got through for the last ten years, so he doubted it would get through his mother’s narcissistic barrier now.

He was right.

‘You have not thought this through,’ she said. ‘Look at the mother if you want to see your future. I’m not surprised the husband didn’t stay around. The woman is nothing but a common tart. She beds anything with a pulse and floats around with her airs and graces as though she’s wearing silk. But it’s polyester. I only keep her on out of charity.’

This claim drew a grim laugh from Joaquin. ‘You keep her on because she is good at what she does and she doesn’t ask to be paid overtime.’

He knew his family, like many, had got to be rich and stay that way because in part they were mean.

Clemmie, who had walked up behind him during this last interchange, laid a hand on his arm. She felt the tension in his muscles and read the shock on his face as he twisted around.

Read it through a red mist, because she was fizzing with fury.

The woman could bad-mouth her—she could take it. If pushed, she could even respond in kind. But this was her mum, andnobodywas allowed to do that!

‘Oh, Ariadarling...!’ she said, injecting as much insincere adoration as she could manage into her raised voice, everything in her focused on making this hateful woman’s day a bad one! ‘Oh, gosh. I can’t call you Mrs Perez now, can I? Do you prefer Mother or Aria?’ she gushed, with an artificial titter.

She was aware of Joaquin shedding his tension like a skin, rolling his eyes as he fought off a grin.

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