Page 151 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

She felt her throat untighten—and again she didn’t know why. Only knew that as he went on talking something was changing.

‘I would have been tempted to stay...to have breakfast with you.’

She heard his words. Heard the note of admission in them. Heard him continue.

‘I don’t know what would have happened had I not left as precipitately as I did.’

‘Well, we’ll never know now, will we?’ she said.

‘You’re right. We’ll never know, either of us, what might have come of that night together had I not walked out on you that morning...had you not found yourself pregnant. Which is why we can only deal with the situation as it is—not as it might have been, or might not have been. So...’ he drew a breath ‘...here we are. Trying to find a way forward that is more viable than perhaps either of us thought at first, with my accusations and your anger.’

‘I suppose we are,’ she said slowly.

She picked up her spoon, absently started to stir the coffee in her cup. Decaf wasn’t very appetising, but she took a mouthful anyway. Thoughts were going through her, and what might be emotions or might not—she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything...

He said he might have stayed—at least for breakfast. He’d acknowledged what had happened between them. Acknowledged the night before and the morning after.

That was something. Maybe...

She realised he was talking again, and made herself focus.

‘I was thinking...’ he was saying, and she could hear the note of reserve in his voice, see the watchfulness in his eyes. ‘Perhaps our next step should be to spend some time away. A few days together.’

She stared.

‘Somewhere out of London,’ he went on. He paused. ‘Would you consider that?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said slowly.

Could she cope with spending that kind of time with him?

‘There is no rush to decide. I have to return to Italy tomorrow, and then I am in Geneva, and then Turin. But after that... Well, that might be a good time, if it’s something you decide to do. Why not give some thought to where might be a good location?’

He left it at that, went back to eating his cheese and biscuits, and she went back to finishing her dessert. They didn’t speak, but for the first time the silence didn’t seem palpable.

She pushed her empty plate away, drained her unappetising coffee.

‘Would you like a refill?’ Vincenzo asked.

She shook her head. ‘I’ll have a fruit tea at the apartment. That way I won’t miss the caffeine,’ she said.

There was a rueful note in her voice, but it was only lightly rueful.

‘Then shall I call for the bill?’ he checked.

She nodded, and he summoned their waiter. The waiter came immediately, even though the restaurant had filled up and he was in demand. But then, she thought, Vincenzo Giansante was the kind of man who got waiters’ attention whenever he wanted it. Or his wealth got it...

But he hadn’t always been wealthy, had he? He’d said he’d made his money from scratch. So maybe there was a time when he couldn’t just click his fingers and have waiters come running.

And there was also a thought in her head, disquieting and disturbing, that maybe there had been a time when he didn’t have to be suspicious that any female interest in him was influenced by his wealth...

Like wanting to get pregnant by him.

He was putting away his fancy-looking credit card, getting to his feet. She did likewise. They fell into step as they headed back towards the apartment. The night air was cool, and she gave a slight shiver. A moment later he was draping his jacket around her shoulders.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, taken aback. Then: ‘Thank you,’ she said awkwardly.

It would be ungracious to divest herself of it—and besides, the warmth was welcome.

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