Page 97 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

He felt a burst of pure satisfaction that went deeper than the lingering sensual pleasure—because he had chosen his wife well. He foresaw a long and happy union, in which inevitably this intensity of desire would wane—it had to—but would be replaced with something far more manageable. Not this...fevered need to have her, driving him—andher—to bouts of spontaneity that he was enjoying—there was no denying it—but which ultimately weren’t sustainable.

Being distracted away from his business dinner meeting the previous evening had been an anomaly. It unsettled him a little now to acknowledge how easy it had been to walk away. And how unlike him. It was the kind of behaviour his father would have exhibited. Getting distracted by a beautiful woman.

But Faye was his wife. Not just a lover. Perhaps even she would have to concede that all the signs pointed to a sustainable union. But something niggled. Even though he knew every inch of her intimately, and knew how to push her over the edge with just a flick of his finger, she was keeping something in reserve.

After all, she was still maintaining her independence in the relationship. There was no talk of moving in together yet, and while Primo appreciated that on one level—because of course he didn’t intend for this to be an emotional union—spending time with Faye had made him rethink the need for such boundaries. It wouldn’t be a hardship to live with her. The thought of having her in his bed every night was...ridiculously seductive.

To his surprise, for the first time in his life he was actually envisaging having a family with someone. Not just as a duty to create the next generation of Holts, but really creating a family, even though he wasn’t sure what that looked like. But Faye did. She’d grown up with loving parents. She would be a good mother—he knew that instinctively.

She was inspiring Primo to think that maybe—just maybe—there was a chance that their marriage would prove to be fulfilling in ways that he hadn’t fully appreciated.

Boston, a few days later

Is it too much to hope we can arrive at events together one day soon?

Faye didn’t answer Primo’s text and shut down her phone. She sighed as the taxi crawled forward in the bumper-to-bumper traffic near the venue in Boston. She wasn’t surprised that Primo had been irritated when she’d said she’d make her own way to this function, but her meetinghadgenuinely run over.

She shook her head again to try and dislodge the woolly feeling. She’d felt an ominous prickling pain at the back of her throat all day today, and she’d been sniffling. She really hoped she wasn’t coming down with a cold. She had a massive job the following week in Manhattan—helping a corporate client take delivery of their new art collection, curated by her—and she’d promised to be on hand to help them get it hung properly.

Her limbs felt a little achy. She told herself it was just the effects of the jetlag after her return from Europe.

That magical coastal castle in the West of Ireland felt like a long time ago. She wondered if she’d imagined it?

She hadn’t seen Primo since London. She would have, if they’d lived together. The thought that they could have been sharing a bed for the last few days sent simultaneous thrills and trepidation through Faye.

Living together was just a step too far into making this whole arrangement more permanent.

You are married to the man—can’t get more permanent than that,pointed out a voice.

Faye scowled at herself.

If anything, the more she got to know Primo, and the more she hungered for him, the more imperative it was to maintain these boundaries she’d put in place. Boundaries she’d never known would become so important.

Because she hadn’t expected to want him.

To like him so much.

‘We’re here.’

‘Thank you,’ Faye said, jolted out of her spiralling thoughts.

She saw the flow of the immaculately clothed crowd going into one of Boston’s oldest buildings for the charity benefit and curbed the urge to tell the driver to keep going.

Just then, her head started to pound. But she couldn’t leave. Primo was waiting for her, and every cell in her body was urging her up and out of the car, to go and be with him.

She cursed her weak body, but congratulated herself that he might have got to her physically, but she was still intact emotionally. He might have chipped away at those walls a little bit, but they were still strong enough to withstand all his considerable charm and powers of persuasion.

As she approached the main hall where the event was taking place, she spotted Primo immediately. Clad in a white tuxedo. Hair swept back from his forehead.

Her insides turned to jelly. And suddenly her confidence that she had somehow remained emotionally untouched by this man drained away, to be replaced with something far less certain. She knew him now in ways she never would have imagined she would. And he was so much more than she had thought a man like him could be.

He had got to her.

Faye clutched her evening bag. Maybe if she turned back now the taxi would still be there. She could jump in and—

But at that moment Primo turned to look at her. As if he’d known she was there all along. And she was caught. He was coming for her, the crowd parting to let him through like a sea.

And then he was in front of her and she couldn’t breathe.

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