Page 165 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8
All these things that he had said to her, given to her. This was not a man whodidn’tcare. This was not a man like her father at all.
And no matter what happened from here on out, she knew that she could never be just another person that would betray him. That would take a single thing from him without his knowledge or consent.
And before she could change her mind, she sat down at her laptop on the desk in front of a small window looking out at the marina in Cannes, and started her email to Gio Gallo.
I’ve told Gio I’m out, Sam.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Enzo squinted angrily at the horizon from behind dark sunglasses. Here at the marina, he’d not been able to do as he’d wished, and drop into the frigid depths of the sea to shock some sense back into himself. So he’d spent far longer than was probably healthy in a very cold shower.
The problem was that things felt so genuine with Erin, that he was beginning to fall for the lies they had both woven around this relationship. And the fact that he wasn’t actively running for the hills was becoming a serious problem. As perfectly illustrated by the fact that he’d spent half the night watching her sleep, not because she’d asked him to stay, but because he hadn’t been able to drag himself away.
Erin arrived on the upper deck at that moment, looking fresh in wide-legged white linen trousers and a light blue linen shirt, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head and sunglasses dangling from her fingers.
Of course she looked the most innocent, the most natural that she had done since he’d first met her. Just when he was trying to remember her conniving manipulations.Of coursehe struggled with his body’s instinctive, nearprimal, response to this woman. That was her plan, wasn’t it?
‘Good morning,’ she said shyly, biting her lip, the artifice of her hesitation impeccable.
‘Buongiorno,’ he replied, rising from his seat to greet her. ‘Cannes suits you,’ he said with a forced smile.
‘Merci,’ she replied with a wry smile.
He went to kiss her cheek, but she moved ever so slightly, and when her lips found his, he held himself in check, when the palm of her hand rested on his chest, he prayed his heart would stay still. He wondered if he was imagining the shift between this morning and before and told himself off for being fanciful.
‘You don’t think so?’ he asked, as she slipped behind the table onto the banquet seating.
‘I like Cannes, but... Italy was special.’
He blinked, hiding his surprise at her answer.
‘We have a party tonight,’ he said, changing the subject.
‘Another one?’
He mock-winced. ‘Marcus has a lot of parties, but this one is important to him.’
‘You’ve known him long?’ she asked.
‘Since university.’
‘That’s why your English is so good? Because you went to university in England?’
‘Yes. My father was too notorious in America, and England was closer to Europe, so...’ He shrugged off the end of the sentence. ‘Marcus comes across as a bit of a buffoon, I know, but there is something bluntly honest about him which is important to me.’
He watched her closely, for any signs of a reaction to his description, but Erin just smiled and nodded.
‘Then I will look forward to getting to know him more,’ Erin said instead. ‘As long asIcan pick the dress this time,’ she said pointedly.
He smiled when he was supposed to smile, and laughed when he was supposed to laugh, but all the while he couldn’t stop himself from wondering where this was going. Could he really still see himself leaving her at the top of the aisle? To expose her to the glare of the world’s press and their fierce judgement? Before he’d met Erin, he’d lived his life unsure and uncaring of his next steps, going wherever he fancied, wherever the next party was. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t like it one single bit.
Erin walked into the large three-story club in the heart of Cannes’s beachfront, feeling very self-conscious.
Enzo hadn’t been as effusive as he had in the past, but Erin knew that he liked the way she looked in the flowing white dress she’d chosen for the evening. The pallor of her skin had warmed in the last few weeks beneath the Mediterranean sun and the white made her appear bronzed, so thatthis timewhen people turned to stare at them, she knew it wasn’t because she looked hideous, or was an embarrassment. It was because she looked like she fit on his arm. And finally, she was beginning to feel that way too, which was a painful irony.
She’d received a one-word email response from Gio Gallo as she’d got dressed earlier that evening.
