Page 124 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

‘Vincenzo Bloody Giansante can take himself back to Italy, the sooner the better. And the bigger the distance between him and me the better! I should never have fallen into bed with him, never gone to see him today, and I will never, as God is my witness, haveanythingto do with him for as long as I live.’

She took a shuddering breath, making her fists unclench. She pressed both hands across her still-flat abdomen.

‘As for my baby...’ Her voice changed, but only she could feel the tremor in it. ‘It ismybaby—’

She turned and walked out of the sitting room, closing the door behind her. There was a storm in her breast and steel in her heart. Cold, hard steel.

CHAPTER THREE

SIENASIGHEDDESPONDENTLY. She’d just been told by the art school’s accommodation officer that the hall of residence where she had a room reserved, subsidised by a bursary for mature students, did not cater for parents, and nor did any college accommodation. She must rely on the private rental sector.

Siena sighed again. That would be far more costly—and when the baby arrived there would be childcare costs too. Would the legacy from her parents that was to pay for art school stretch that far? Doubt filled her. And resentment too.

How could her life have changed so dramatically?

So disastrously.

Just because of that one damn night.

One night—and it’s changed my life for ever. Destroyed my dreams.

It had been wonderful beyond all things to get into this ultra-prestigious, world-famous London art school as a mature student, with a subsidised room in a hall of residence. But if she could not afford to live in London and pay for childcare too, how was it going to be possible to take up her place?

She couldn’t stay indefinitely in Meg’s flat—she was only here doing some temporary office work at the PR company where Meg worked because Meg’s flatmate, Fran, had taken off for the summer. It was meant to have tided her over until term started and she moved into the hall of residence. But now that wasn’t going to be possible.

As for getting council accommodation... For single mothers, the waiting list was a mile long, and it would probably be little more than a grim bedsit or hostel.

She gave another sigh, deeper this time, and more despondent. In the face of such difficulties a decision was forcing itself upon her—one she didn’t want but had to accept, with heavy reluctance and resignation. There was no other option.

She made herself tell Megan when her friend came back from work that evening.

‘I’m calling it quits, Megs. Giving up my place at art school. I just can’t afford it. I’ll move out of London...find somewhere loads cheaper to live. I’ll work until the baby arrives, then live on my parents’ legacy until I can sort childcare for when the baby’s older. As for art school... Well...’ she gave a shrug ‘... I gave up on it once before and survived. I’ll do so again.’

Megan looked at her, dismayed. ‘You mustn’t do that, Si,’ she said emphatically. ‘I know what you went through...giving up your place all those years ago. You lost your dream then—you must not give it up again.’

Siena looked at her sadly. ‘I’ve no alternative. It just isn’t financially viable. And it’s my own fault, isn’t it? I got myself pregnant—’

‘No, you didn’t“get yourself”pregnant,’ Megan began forcefully. ‘The man you refuse to contact again got you pregnant.’

Siena held up her hands, wearied beyond measure by her friend’s pointless insistence. ‘Megs, please, please,please—just don’t. Look, I’ve made my mind up. I’m chucking art college, starting my life afresh—again—and moving out of London. I’ll start checking out where rental prices are cheapest, but somewhere decent enough to raise a baby. I’ll be fine.’

Megan’s expression changed. ‘There is another option, you know,’ she said slowly. ‘You could choose not to have this baby...’

‘No!’ Now it was Siena’s voice that was forceful. ‘I won’t do it—I won’t even think of it!’

Megan bit her lip, looked uneasy. ‘I know... I know it’s because of...well...because of...what you went through with your family.’ She halted, then went on, her voice lifting. ‘But what about adoption? There are plenty of couples who would love—’

Again, Siena cut across her. ‘I couldn’t do that either. Megan, I’m honest enough to admit I don’t want to be pregnant—but I am, and it is my responsibility from now on.’

My responsibility. No one else’s.

To her relief, Megan didn’t argue any more. But as she headed into the kitchen her expression was set and determined...

Vincenzo was watching the yachts criss-crossing the bay, skimming the azure waters. He was in Sardinia, meeting up with a CEO in whose company Vincenzo was considering investing. Meeting done, he was having lunch at his hotel, prior to flying back to Milan that afternoon.

As he ate on the shady open-air terrace overlooking the azure bay the yachts made a peaceful scene.

They also brought back memories—mixed memories.

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