Page 65 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

‘That’s not really answering my question.’

Faye’s throat had suddenly been dry as sandpaper. ‘I’m not saying we can’t...consummate the marriage...’

After all,whispered a little voice,isn’t this what you want too? Something out of this arrangement for you?

But the thought of surrendering to him on a more intimate level had been terrifying. Because without even touching her he’d made her feel things she’d never felt before—a kind of wild yearning. An awareness of herself that no other man had ever made her feel. A sense of not being fully in control. When he seemed to be scarily in control.

She’d forced her brain to work. ‘I’m open to discussing making plans, but if you want to get married on the date you’ve specified, I’m afraid I’m already booked on a flight to Venice that evening. I have clients lined up to meet during Carnival.’

Primo had narrowed his gaze on her before saying dryly, ‘Discussing making plans to consummate our marriage? How romantic.’

The disdain in his voice when he’d saidthat had made Faye stand up. She’d shot back, ‘We both know this isn’t about romance, but if you’re going to mock me then perhaps you need to look for another convenient bride.’

Primo had stood up too and regarded her. ‘Forgive me. I don’t mean to mock. You know where I stand on the fantasy of romance in marriage. But I would like this marriage to function, and for it to function we need to be aligned in public and in private. If you don’t think that is possible then maybe this is not a good idea.’

She’d overreacted. And Faye had felt even more exposed. Primo had agreed to all of her terms, and it obviously made sense for their marriage to appear as real as possible.

Aware of the stakes if she pulled out at that point, she’d taken a breath and said, ‘I do think it’s possible. I want this marriage to work too.’

For six months at the most.

There was a knock on the door at that moment, jolting Faye out of her memories of last week. She said absently, ‘Come in.’

It was her father, stooped and walking unsteadily with two sticks. Even so, he looked dapper in his steel-grey three-piece suit. He was determined to walk her down the aisle. Her father knew well that this was no love-match, but she could see that he hoped it might become something enduring. She hadn’t told him of her terms. Her conscience pricked, but she told herself that the long-term benefits of having been married to Primo Holt even for a brief period would be worth it.

Her father looked at her with suspiciously shiny eyes. ‘You remind me so much of your mother...you look beautiful.’

Now Faye’s eyes stung. ‘No one was as beautiful as Mother.’

Her father said a little gruffly, ‘They’re ready for us.’

Faye sucked in a breath and gathered up her matching cropped jacket and the posy of flowers—yellow and cream, matching her outfit and the engagement ring. She hadn’t even thought to organise flowers. Primo had done it.

She went to her father and forced a smile, slipping an arm through one of his. ‘Let’s go, then, shall we?’

Primo didn’t like how on edge he felt. Almost...nervous. Which was ridiculous. He couldn’t ever remember feeling nervous in his life. But right now he was definitely not feeling his usual level of confidence.

Arrogance.

Faye had accused him of being arrogant. As he’d told her, he’d be the first to admit to it. But he wasn’t so arrogant that it made him blind to things. He certainly wasn’t blind to the fact that Faye MacKenzie was an enigma.

He knew she was marrying him for her own ends—to shore up the business deal with her father and to bolster her own reputation after a failed early marriage and years of being something of a social outlier. In spite of professing not to care what people thought, she was human, and no one was immune to the lingering toxicity of an old scandal.

But apart from that...? He knew she wasn’t mercenary. She had a family fortune of her own to inherit. Not to mention a very lucrative and successful career as one of the world’s most respected art brokers.

So, was she marrying him because she was also getting something more personal out of it? He wasn’t so sure after she’d informed him that they’d have tomakeplansto consummate their marriage.

Usually women were only too happy to bare all with him as soon as possible—physically and emotionally. But not this woman. She looked at him with those gold and green eyes warily.

He knew there was heat between them. The moment they were in the same room he felt it like a live current. Maybe he should have kissed her that day when she’d come to his office, looking so prim in a trouser suit. Accusing him of mocking her. He’d wanted to kiss her. To muss up her hair. Undo the buttons of her blouse. Mess with that pristine elegant surface and demonstrate the physical benefits of a marriage that had nothing to do withromance.

The prospect of that made his blood hum with anticipation.

But at that moment a hush went over the group of people in the function room. The back of Primo’s neck prickled as the celebrant came and stood before him and gave a cue to the string quartet, who started playing music.

For a moment Primo felt an almost superstitious reluctance to turn around to see his bride. But then, telling himself he was being ridiculous, because this really was just a slightly more personal and intimate form of a business deal, he turned around and was instantly awe-struck.

Faye was stunning.

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