Page 25 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

IN THE COSYwarmth of the castle kitchen, Kelly had just finished munching her way through a delicious breakfast when the housekeeper put a brown paper parcel on the table in front of her.

Kelly looked up at her. ‘What’s this, Graziana?’ she asked. ‘It’s not my birthday.’

The housekeeper smiled. ‘Something you need,’ she responded enigmatically.

More than a little intrigued, Kelly ripped open the paper to reveal several neatly folded pale red garments, which looked oddly familiar. Shaking one out, she found a roomy tunic with the wordRagnopiped in ice-blue on the breast pocket, above a tiny logo of a sports car in exactly the same shade. She blinked. Of course they looked familiar. They were the uniform of thecastelloand worn by all members of staff—in fact, Graziana was wearing one right now. They had obviously been designed for all shapes and all ages because the matronly housekeeper from the village looked supremely comfortable in hers. But while the baggy trousers and tunic top might be practical for getting down on your hands and knees and scrubbing flagstones, they looked more like a pair of unflattering hospital scrubs. Accompanying them was a card bearing the company name, informing her that they were from the CEO and signed in Romano’s absence by an assistant!

‘Why such a weird colour combination?’ she said, almost to herself.

‘It is colour of Ragno racing cars,’ answered Graziana slowly.

‘Of course it is,’ said Kelly, rising from the table, her rapidly cooling coffee now unwanted. Hadn’t she seen all those photos of Romano on the Internet when the Ragno car had won yet another Premio Mondo race, pictured beside a gleaming ice-blue machine flashed with scarlet—usually with a similarly gleaming woman draped all over him?

She carried the package upstairs, her head buzzing and not just because Romano had provided her with a hideous uniform in a colour which didn’t suit her and clashed like mad with her red hair. It hurt that he seemed determined to reinforce her servile status and drive home the fact that she was no longer his lover. Accept it, she told herself fiercely. Live with it. You are nothing but his humble…

Cleaner.

Glumly, she pulled the roomy tunic over her head and stared at herself in the mirror, thinking how much had happened in the last twenty-four hours in this beautiful corner of Tuscany. After Romano’s departure, she’d spent the rest of the day with Floriana and her family, batting off curious questions from her friend about why her half-brother had left so abruptly. It had taken a huge effort to behave normally and in a way she’d been pleased when they had all departed for Rome, and her work could begin in earnest. Because the sooner it started, the sooner it would be over. She could collect her generous pay cheque, go back to England to lick her wounds and forget that her steamy encounter with the powerful billionaire had ever happened.

And that was another thing. She gave a heavy sigh. If she’d thought this might be a job in name only, she had been quickly disabused of that idea by a lengthy list of instructions sent by yet another of Romano’s assistants and delivered by one of the security detail which was now stationed in various cottages dotted around the estate. As she pored over the endless dos and don’ts of cleaning such an historic building, she began to get a true idea of the reach of the Italian billionaire’s network of power.

Just how many assistants did he have? And what must it be like if you had people to do your every bidding—if you could retreat behind the protective patina of money and influence any time the inconveniences of life intruded? Wouldn’t that make you arrogant and unknowable? She pulled a face at her reflection. In Romano’s case, yes and yes again. But he was paying her handsomely for the work and that was the most important thing. Had she forgotten the grim reality of her life back home? Because this was more than a job. It meant she would be able to pay her rent for the next few months until she got back on her feet.

No stranger to hard work, she soon got into a routine, toiling from dawn to dusk and deriving immense satisfaction every time she consigned yet another cobweb to the bin, or carefully polished one of the antique silvered mirrors. Bit by bit, the castle began to look less like a corporate venue and a bit more homely. She even picked some flowers and dotted them in a few strategically placed vases to make the vast space seem more welcoming and she thought they looked way better than the rather corporate selection of scentless hothouse roses which had been ordered in for the christening. Graziana arrived each morning with breakfast, leaving home-cooked food for the rest of her meals, and Kelly would often take her lunch outside, munching on a mozzarella salad while the birds sang and thinking that she’d never been anywhere quite so beautiful.

Night-times were different of course. They could be long and hard and painful. She’d spoken the truth when she’d told Romano that she wasn’t scared of being alone in the castle, and she wasn’t. Fear was being young and alone with your sick mum. Fear was the worry of being kicked out of your tiny bedsit and wondering if you’d be made homeless. But other things could certainly keep you awake. Bittersweet memories for a start, which flashed into her mind with disturbing clarity and made her shiver beneath the feathery duvet.

Romano undressing her.

Romano inside her, big and hard and warm.

Romano making that soft, wild sound which had made her wrap her arms tightly around him while he had lain there, shuddering almost helplessly.

He hadn’t been so protected by his patina of power then, had he?

In that moment she had felt so unbelievablycloseto him. In every way. As if two people really had become one, just like it said in all the books you weren’t supposed to believe. His gentleness and consideration had been almost as potent as her desire for him and a powerful emotion had welled up inside her, making her want to blink back tears, until she’d forced herself to realise that she was chasing after an illusion. Because Romano had left her bedroom as if the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels, hadn’t he? He had only ever wanted sex from her—and he didn’t even want that any more. He’d made that painfully clear the following morning, in the bright Tuscan sunshine, surrounded by birdsong and blossom, his brutal words making a mockery of the romantic setting. He’d made it sound as if he had done something he bitterly regretted and wished he could rewrite the past.

But nobody could do that. Kelly gave a mirthless smile. Imagine how different the world would be if you could.

At least today was her last day of work at the castle and tomorrow she was catching a flight back to England. She had stubbornly refused the offer of a lift in Romano’s private jet, so a commercial ticket had been booked to take her to Luton airport and a car was picking her up in the morning. The countdown to never seeing him again was nearly at an end.

The daylight was fast disappearing and Kelly was upstairs attacking an ancient wardrobe in the attic when her phone started ringing. Picking it up with dusty fingers, she saw it was an unknown number and, grateful for a little respite, clicked onto the call.

‘Hello?’

‘Kelly?’

Her heart did something complicated as a delectably recognisable voice rippled down the line, making her feel as if he were brushing verbal velvet over her skin. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to stay calm, but her the thumping of her traitorous pulse was off the scale. ‘Romano?’ she verified unnecessarily.

‘Of course it is,’ he shot back, and there was a pause. ‘What are you doing?’

A bizarre thought flew into her mind as she remembered a film she’d once seen about phone sex and the X-rated responses the woman had given to that very same question. ‘Dusting out a wardrobe,’ came her own repressive reply. ‘Don’t worry, Romano, I know it’s my last day but I’m not skiving.’

A few seconds ticked by. ‘I wish to talk to you.’

Her fingers squeezed the phone. ‘Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?’

He made an impatient sound. ‘In person.’

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