Page 215 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

She sipped on the strong coffee with two sugars María had insisted she needed and had placed in front of her. María had been right. She needed the coffee’s strength. Right now, she needed to be strong.

Dom would want her gone quickly, she presumed. He would want her out of the way. He would be busy with the funeral and with the legalities of winding up Rosaria’s estate. He wouldn’t need a reminder of the deal he’d made to convince his mother he’d finally found love. He wouldn’t need a reminder of their deception.

And Mari didn’t want to be here. Not now. Not after last night’s realisation. How could she stay, knowing she loved him when he would soon want her gone?

She finished the coffee she hadn’t realised she’d needed. Thanked María for it with a hug. She might not be able to help Dom right now, but at least she could help herself. She might as well make a start on packing.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MARI WASN’T PLANNINGon taking anything he’d bought for her. The wedding dress she’d worn in Las Vegas? She didn’t need that. The gown she’d worn at their marriage blessing likewise. And where would she wear a designer cocktail dress when she was back in her humdrum life in Melbourne? An interview suit would be more useful, given she had to find herself a new job.

But the silk underwear—she was nothing if not practical. What would be the point in leaving that?

‘What are you doing?’

Mari spun around. ‘Oh, Dom.’ His face looked drawn, his eyes tortured. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘She was smiling when she died,’ he said, the words grating, as if talking were a struggle. ‘Imagine that. My mother died happy.’

Despite her grief, Mari’s heart warmed at the news. ‘Her parting gift to you. A thank you for making her final days happy.’

He shook his head. ‘Not just for me, but also for you. Because of you,’ he said. ‘Because she truly believed I was happy. That we were happy together.’ His face twisted with incomprehension. ‘And yet,’ he said, ‘I return from my mother’s deathbed to find you, suitcase open and rifling through your wardrobe like you can’t wait to get away.’

She jerked her chin up. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded broken. She swallowed. ‘I didn’t think you’d need me anymore. I thought you’d want me gone. Our contract—’

‘Damn thepinchecontract! You thought wrong!’ he said. ‘Because I’ve never needed anyone more than I need you right now.’

‘Dom—’ she said, slowly shaking her head. This wasn’t part of her escape plan. Couldn’t he see that there was nothing to bind her to him any longer? She’d satisfied—more than satisfied—her end of the contract. He’d as much as admitted it himself.

So much for her newly found resolve.

There was no way she could say no. No way she could resist. Because Dom was hurting. Broken. She walked up to him, put her arms around his waist and hugged him close, nestling her head into his shoulder. ‘Like that?’ she asked.

‘Like that,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her and dipping his head against hers. For a moment they stayed that way, and then she realised he was sobbing. Silently shaking with long racking sobs, his body pressed against hers. And it fractured her heart into tiny shards.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, hugging him close. ‘It’s okay.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She waited for the racking sobs to ease before she took his head in her hands, kissing his forehead, wiping the tears from his eyes with the pads of her thumbs.

‘It’s okay. I get it.’ Losing someone who meant the world to you was never going to happen without that same world buckling beneath your feet. ‘Even when we know it’s going to happen, it’s still a shock.’

He rested his head down on her shoulder and for a while she just rocked him. Trying to tell him with her actions how much she cared by just being there. By holding him. By consoling him.

She was there for him. That was all it was. That was all it was meant to be. She’d talk about her plan to leave later, when he wasn’t so emotionally drained. He’d soon see that she was right. He’d see it made sense for both of them.

Almost imperceptibly there was a change in him. He lifted his head on a sigh, thanking her for her support and pressing his lips to her cheek, and it seemed the natural thing to do, to kiss him on the cheeks in return.

Except she never made it to the other cheek, because she found his mouth, his beautiful, sad mouth.

But even that was okay. Just a light touch of her lips against his, a butterfly touch to show her empathy. To show she cared. And God, she cared, because when her lips meshed with his there was no pulling away. There was no escape.

And neither did she want to.

He drank in her kiss like a man who’d been stranded in a desert. He clung to her as if she was a lifeline. She held his face between her hands and kissed away the moisture on his cheeks. It was always inevitable that they would end up on the bed although, looking back later, Mari couldn’t remember when or how it had happened. Just that they were there and slowly and surely peeling away each other’s clothes.

And it was so different to their first fevered coupling after the tango on the beach. So gentle. So tender.

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