Page 161 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

He did not allow them to be the same person. How could they be?

Once so physically intimate—yet a stranger.

But now?

No physical intimacy—nothing of that burning flame could exist—yet no longer a stranger.

So who is she to me?

The question hung in his head. He should answer it, but he had no answer to give.

Siena was sitting at a little ironwork table, sketchbook propped up, watercolour pencils to hand, newly purchased that morning. Her gaze was going from the view of the hotel’s gardens and the sea beyond to what she was capturing of both on paper.

Vincenzo was in his room, touching base with his office, catching up with his affairs. They’d been here nearly a week now. The days were slipping by, undemanding and unhurried, as they toured around, sightseeing and exploring the lush Devon and Dorset countryside and the scenic coastline.

Day by day it was becoming easier between them, Siena acknowledged. So their time here was achieving its purpose. Defusing the toxic hostility that had been so destructive.

She was still conscious of the tension within her, though. Of her continual awareness of Vincenzo...of what he could arouse in her—which she must not allow. She suppressed it as much as she could, but it was there all the same, all the time...

She dipped the nib of her pencil in the water jar, refocussing on her sketching, pulling her thoughts back to safer ground. It was good to be working again. OK, it wasn’t the kind of testing artwork she’d have been striving for at art school, but it was enjoyable enough.

The familiar stab of regret, that being pregnant had destroyed her hopes of finally getting to art school a second time around, came now. She pushed it away—because what was the point of dwelling on what could not be? Reached instead for a deep crimson, ideal for a splash of flowers in the foreground.

‘That’s very good.’

Vincenzo’s deep, accented voice behind her made her start.

She turned her head.

And gulped silently.

The sunshine was bright—bright enough for Vincenzo to be sporting shades. She gulped again. Oh, good grief! Whatwasit about men and sunglasses? They could turn the most unprepossessing male into someone to look twice at. But when sunglasses adorned a man like Vincenzo...

She crushed her reaction down. She could allow it no place.

Belatedly, she realised he’d spoken to her. ‘Oh, thank you,’ she said, hoping her voice was normal.

He was standing behind her, looking down at her sketch. ‘Itisgood,’ he said again. ‘There’s a talent there you should not ignore.’

Siena gave a flickering smile. It was an awkward subject.

‘I enjoy it,’ she said. ‘But that’s all.’

He gave a quick shake of his head. ‘Talent should always be developed,’ he said. His gaze rested on her speculatively.

‘You’ve never really told me about yourself—what you’ve done with your life so far. Can it be that it’s this?’ There was a quizzical note in his voice now, and he gestured towards her sketchbook.

She took a breath. Why make a secret of it? Once she’d have said it was none of his business—that she didn’t want him knowing anything about her because she didn’t want anything to do with him ever again, after the way he’d treated her. But now—well, there was no reason not to tell him.

‘I was going to study art,’ she said. ‘In fact, the reason I was in London, staying with Megan, was because...’ She took another breath. ‘I was going to start an art degree this autumn. Obviously because of the baby that’s all gone now...’ An edge slid into her voice that she could not stop, and she gave a shrug. ‘But I’ll survive. I gave up on it once before—’

She stopped abruptly.

‘Why was that?’ Vincenzo was asking frowningly.

But that was a place she did not want to go...

Too painful.

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