Page 9 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

She thumped her forehead against the thick wood, wishing she could disappear into its grain. “What?” she said, with enough belligerence to sound like a pissed-off teenager. Figured that the little courage she possessed came out when everything around her was burning to the ground.

“It is you in that picture. Why,cara?” That he called her that even as he thrust a silken knife into her chest made her want to laugh like a maniac.

If he’d let a hint of doubt seep into his voice, if he had let her see the thinnest crack in his veneer, if he hadn’t hung her out to dry in front of his family, maybe she would have turned around and explained it.

But God, she was as sick of living in fear of Adriano and his prestigious family discovering whose daughter she was, of wondering how long the safety of his arms would last.

It was high time she dwelled in reality. For the innocent life in her belly if not for herself.

“Is there anything to explain? Clearly you have decided that I fucked another man,” she said, choosing the abrasive words deliberately. Softness had no place in her life anymore. “I hope the image of me, half-naked and writhing against that man, haunts you for the rest of your life.”

It wasn’t the greatest parting shot, but she felt a bloodthirstiness she’d never known in herself, that she embraced now.

Foolish to think that a man like Adriano Cavalieri wouldn’t wipe off the slate and start over again with a more beautiful, accomplished woman, but in this, she would indulge herself.

That the image would torment him as much as he’d hurt her.

Chapter Three

Six weeks later

Thesuddensplashingof ice-cold water against his head, prickling his skin and drenching him in mere seconds made Adriano jerk awake from his stupor.

He let out a string of filthy expletives, wondered if he was imagining Fabi’s half giggle, half gasp.

Dios mio, where was he and why did his head feel like there was a large metal rod poking through it? What day was it?

“Wake up,Sleeping Beauty.” Bruno’s dry mockery felt like a shout, then he felt his arms under his pits.

Through sheer stubbornness, his best friend lifted him, dragged him into what apparently was his bathroom, because the marble was suddenly cold against his feet.

Adriano blinked and tried to clear his head but hangover was a screw behind his eyes, poking and drilling and…screwing with his balance. He heard Fabi shout that she would make some coffee and then Bruno was stripping him and dragging him again and then there was the ice-cold spray of water all over his naked skin.

With what he hoped was a masculine growl, but was sure was an unmanly yelp, he turned the knob to blazing hot spray. His skin felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles but slowly, surely, sanity returned. Along with his location and his current state.

He had checked into his usual suite at George V in Paris three days ago and gotten filthy drunk. The thought of facing work or his family or anyone for another weekend had felt like torment. It was the sixth weekend in a row he had checked into some hotel incognito and gotten filthy drunk.

It was the last thing he’d expected of himself, ever.

As if she was a witch who’d cast a curse on him, Nyra’s parting words to him came true. Night or day, waking or sleeping, the image of her in some man’s arms…tormented him. The pain of what she had done, the loss of her shy smiles, of her tight hugs and her welcoming body, felt like a physical ache he could only numb with alcohol. It felt as if someone had gouged his heart out of his chest and left a gaping, weeping wound.

For the second time in his life, he had no control over his thoughts, his feelings, and worse, his actions. And he didn’t know how to fix it.

Unless it involved seeing her and talking to her…

Is there anything to explain?she’d demanded, such fury written on her face. She hadn’t denied that she’d stolen all those things, but the pics…they had shocked her, disgusted her and, finally, infuriated her.

If she was innocent—how she could be with those pics staring at him in technicolor, he didn’t know—why hadn’t she said one word to that effect?

The band of muscles in his stomach tightened as if trying to expel the discomfort sitting there like a boulder. By the time he dressed and emerged into the attached kitchen, he felt minimally human. And worse than before as far as his emotions were concerned.

Because, for just a second, he’d considered bringing her back even if she had…

Fabi threw herself at him, her skinny arms wrapping around his middle like tentacles, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Adriano ruffled her hair and stroked her back. Over her head, he met Bruno’s eyes. He was pouring coffee, and yet his best friend’s gaze didn’t relent for a second in conveying its message of rebuke and…guilt.

He cut his gaze away—another first for Adriano—unwilling to face Bruno’s recriminations. “Fabi, whatever you have done, yet again, I’m sure it is fixable,” he said, forcing a patience he didn’t feel. “I’ll talk to Mama and sort it out.”

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