Page 85 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

Faye’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly shut it again and said, a little testily, ‘Didyoudo a degree in psychology?’

Primo smiled easily. ‘Nope, completely self-taught.’

Faye made a sound likeharrumph. The truth was that Primo’s assessment was scarily accurate. Therewassomething about the painting that called to her because she felt its passion. Its hunger for life. All the things she was afraid of since failing at her first marriage and then becoming infertile.

She moved away and looked at her watch.

‘Somewhere else to be?’ he asked.

She glanced at Primo. He was too distracting. Dressed in casual trousers and a dark navy polo shirt that seemed to make his eyes pop even more. She’d been ultra-aware of him as the director had led them around the museum on a whistlestop tour.

She felt a little churlishly like asking,Don’t you?Because he seemed all too happy to wander around and take in the sights. It unnerved her, because she hadn’t factored in spending time with him like this.

Even so, she felt almost guilty when she said, ‘I’m actually going to Dublin for the night. There’s a dinner in Dublin Castle to celebrate some of Ireland’s biggest living artists as part of their annual culture week.’

Primo frowned. ‘That wasn’t in the diary.’

‘No, because I thought I couldn’t go. But since I’m in Paris, and it’s less than a couple of hours’ flight, I told them I could make it after all.’

His gaze narrowed on her for a moment, and then he said, ‘That sounds like an interesting evening.’

Faye almost had the urge to say something crazy like,Do you want to come?

But he was looking at his watch and saying, ‘I should get back to the hotel. I have one more meeting before I head back to New York. I have meetings there tomorrow.’

‘Of course. I need to get back and pack too.’

She was glad she hadn’t blurted out the invitation. That would really have been muddying the waters.

Primo said, ‘I’m glad you came to Paris... You know, Faye, I’d like to get to know you better. I think we can really enjoy ourselves in this marriage if you give it a chance.’

Faye felt all at once gently chastened, guilty, and something far less identifiable. ‘I... Okay.’

‘You can smile too, if you want. Your face won’t crack, I swear.’

It suddenly struck her to wonder when she’d started to hold herself so rigidly. After her divorce?

She forced herself to take a breath and smiled.

Primo shook his head. ‘One day, Faye MacKenzie, you’ll smile for real.’

Dublin

‘One day...you’ll smile for real.’

The words were still reverberating in Faye’s head later that evening as she was guided to her dinner seat in Dublin Castle’s magnificent and historic St Patrick’s Hall. There had been a drinks reception in the Portrait Gallery before the gala dinner, and Faye had met with some of Ireland’s biggest artists.

Usually an event like this would consume all her energy, as she would be thinking of people she could link the artists up with—galleries or clients—but this evening she was distracted.

Why did Primo care if she smiled for real? Why couldn’t he just accept the status quo, with them appearing together when necessary and spending the night together when it was convenient?

Although, thatdidn’t quite capture the heat and intensity of their chemistry. It wasn’t so muchspending the night togetheras mutually combusting and passing out in a pleasure-induced coma.

Faye looked around her now and a sense of isolation struck her. Like at the Venice Carnival Ball, it seemed that everyone was paired off and chatting animatedly.

She was wearing a green silk evening gown, cut on the bias and low on the chest, with small capped sleeves. Flowing and romantic. She’d spotted it in a boutique window before leaving Paris and now, as she sat here, she realised she’d bought it because she’d imagined Primo seeing her in it and wanting her.

Now she felt silly. It was too whimsical and exposing—physically and emotionally.

---