Page 152 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8
He looked at her, gazing back at him defiantly, the moonlight lovingly picking out the curve of her cheek, the top of her ear from where the tumble of long red waves cascaded down her back, such a dark ruby red it blended with the black of his tux jacket.
‘The only reason to mock,’ he said, ‘is because they can’t bear to be mocked themselves. They lash out before they can be lashed. It doesn’t make it right, but perhaps it helps a little to understand it.’
Her eyes flared at his words.
‘No one deserves what happened to you,’ he said with vehemence. ‘And I’m sorry it happened. But what I see when I look at you is not some cowed, beaten young woman.’
‘What do you see?’ she asked, her words a whisper.
‘A powerful, determined, fierce and beautiful woman,’ he said with nothing but the absolute truth. ‘The only, theonly, reason for taunting you over your hair,’ he said, picking up the end of a loose wave and rubbing the silk of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, ‘is jealousy.’
He released the tendril of hair, telling himself to back away. That whatever it was between them—and therewassomething between them—was far too vulnerable that night. But just when he would have moved away, she reached up to cup his jaw. Her touch sent sparks across his skin, tightening and stretching things that really, he should have much better control over.
Her gaze flickered from his lips to his eyes, as if worried he might do something she wasn’t prepared for. He waited, curious despite himself, to see what she would do.
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. Another chaste kiss that drove a silent cry of need through his body.
Her lips shaped his, the slightest opening taunting him, begging him to prise open her mouth with his tongue and take everything he found within. Eyes open, he saw the minor furrow of her brow as if she were just a little frustrated, the whisper of a moan for something more on the wind between them.
He pulled back just an inch from her lips, feeling more tempted than Eve had been by the apple.
He shook his head again. ‘I told you,’ he said regretfully. ‘I would not allow you to give me pleasure before our wedding.’
She blinked. ‘That was for me,’ she confessed, her words knocking the breath from his lungs, lifting the leash from his neck.
Barely before the words had even left her mouth, had he reclaimed her lips with his. His hands were sinking into her hair and drawing her against him, angling her to the perfect position, to where he could all but consume her whole. A firestorm engulfed them, his heart racing as if he’d run a marathon, her breath heaving her chest against his, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him deeper against her, she shifted in his hold, seeking for the very same thing he was searching for.
His hands pushed away the ridiculous volume of that damn dress to try and reach her, but couldn’t seem to grasp her, breaking the moment with a frustrated laugh from Rin. And Enzo found himself both damned and saved by a mess of his own making.
‘I should go to bed,’ she said, perhaps unaware of the yearning in her tone to do the opposite.
‘Yes, you should,’ Enzo confirmed with a nod, not looking at her, half fearful that if he did, he’d do something monumentally stupid like beg her to stay.
There was a pause, where an infinite number of possibilities passed between them and in the end only one was chosen.
‘Thank you,’ Rin said.
And the thin-lipped smile was all he could muster, as he stayed back by the railing, more at sea with his thoughts than he had ever been in his entire life. He just didn’t know anymore. Wasthisthe real Erin, or was the truth to be found in the one conversation he’d overheard? Was she acting? Was she that good? Or was he just so caught up in her wiles that he’d forgotten everything he’d learned from the games his parents had played?
Chapter Seven
Erin looked outfrom the upper deck of Enzo’s yacht at the Italian coastline, dawn barely a thought at this early hour, frustrated to find her fingers pressed against her lips,again.
Dangerous. It had been dangerous to mess with Enzo Rossetti. Ever since she’d woken—far too early—she’d walked around in a daze, thinking only that she hadn’t known a kiss couldbelike that. A kiss thatshehad initiated.
Of all the kisses they had so far shared, this—unique in its innocence—had been all the more powerful.
And what had driven her to that kiss? Him. His kindness. And her curiosity. Her desire. Her want.
You think you can resist the charms of the Playboy of Amalfi?
Gio’s taunt came back to haunt her.
She had been so naïve. Last night, she had dreamed about it, fantasised about it, thoughts of it had consumed her whole, leaving her hot and breathless, flushed and deeply,deeplyunsatisfied.
Surely it wasn’t good for her to be walking around in this state of...dissatisfaction. But in a way, wasn’t it a rather apt punishment? Because Erin was beginning to suspect that she was making a big mistake. Yes, she wanted Charterhouse. That hadn’t changed. Not one bit. And every time she thought about it, thought about having it, running it, making something of it, it left an ache in her heart so sore and so yearning that it was hard to speak of it.
But Enzo’s kindness last night, staying with her until she’d calmed, the words he’d offered her, had shifted something ever so slightly in a very old wound. It had touched her, deeply. She’d seen the shadows haunting his gaze, knew of the press that had dogged his steps since childhood, collateral damage in the chaos of his parents’ divorce. That there was a link, a connection, between them...
