Page 18 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
Was Ettore not meeting her? Had he sent a car instead? She felt a flash of annoyance, and then a disappointment that confused and annoyed her even more.
‘If you would like to come this way.’
She followed Carmine, not, as she expected, towards the front of the terminal building, but to a discreet door at the far edge of the concourse. He flashed some kind of security clearance to a bored-looking man in a uniform and now they were in another building. It was cool and quiet like the foyer of an upmarket hotel. It reminded her of the entrance to the Conisbrough, and she felt her feet falter and then she was blinking into the bright Italian sunshine—
And that was when she saw him.
He was leaning against a dark blue car. It was almost the same colour as her own car back in Cambridge. But this was a very different vehicle. It was muscular yet elegant with a strong, distinctive silhouette and a powerful stance that exuded a kind of understated strength and refined athleticism.
A bit like its owner.
Ettore shifted position, his head tilting back to acknowledge her, his gaze hidden beneath his sunglasses, but she felt his focus as she walked slowly towards him, trying to channel a convincing facsimile of wife-reuniting-with-her-husband energy. Except that, to her overstressed brain, it felt more like a scene from a film where someone was being released from prison.
So why did it feel as if she were walking towards her jailer?
At that moment he pushed away from the car and her whole body stiffened with awareness as he took off his sunglasses. As she met his speculative gaze, she saw herself through his eyes. Blonde hair swept in a loose bun. No make-up. A simple summer dress that she’d thought would be cool in the Italian heat but now looked hopelessly crumpled.
‘I missed you,cara.’
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes and for a few half-seconds she forgot that they were only pretending. For a few half-seconds she believed him. And then she saw the coolness in his gaze, and she hated herself for being so stupid. Hated him for turning her back, even momentarily, into the woman she’d been two years ago.
Ettore reached out and took her hand and his touch snapped against her skin like an elastic band, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to jerk it away as he pulled her closer.
‘Thank you, Carmine. I’ve got it from here.’
She heard the boot of the car click shut and then, behind her, she felt Carmine melt away. And they were alone in the bright, cheerful Italian sunshine that seemed glaringly at odds with the disquiet in her stomach.
He released her hand, and she stepped backwards quickly, her fingers curling into a fist, trying to quell the tingling sensation in her fingers.
‘Did you have a good flight?’
She nodded. Ettore had stumped up for business class, so it had been very civilised. More civilised than that kiss they’d shared back in London. The thought popped into her head uninvited and to distract herself she said, ‘When you weren’t at the gate, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about meeting me.’
His gaze rested on her face, light yet intent. ‘On the contrary, the drive will give us time to get our stories straight and get reacquainted.’
Reacquainted.
There were so many possible interpretations of that word that she couldn’t fix on one. But they were all equally daunting. Hadn’t they done that back in England via email?
A knot was tightening around her sternum like a rope around a cleat and she felt a sudden urge to tap on one of the tinted windows of the two black SUVs that were parked on the other side of the car park and ask them how much they would charge to take her to Fiana.
Or, better still, tell Ettore that she’d changed her mind. But the paperwork was signed. Oscar was at the Dymphna. She was just going to have to find a way to make this work.
She glanced at his car. ‘Shall we get going, then?’ Any fears she’d had about having to make polite conversation or, worse, rake over the past again were swiftly forgotten.
Firstly, it took all of Ettore’s focus to edge the dark blue car through the mid-morning crush of mopeds and cars and buses and when he pulled off the motorway and the roads got narrower and the buildings further apart, she forgot about speaking. She was too busy staring at the Italian countryside.
She had been to Rome on a school trip and skiing in the Alps with her father, but this was a different Italy.
It was breathtakingly lovely. Low, undulating hills in every shade of green, patched with olive groves and vineyards and dotted with tiled-rooved houses. And above it all, a sky as flawlessly blue as a sapphire. After the narrow, stone-walled streets of Cambridge, it all felt so open and light.
‘We’re taking the scenic route. I hope you don’t mind.’
Ettore’s voice yanked her out of her trance, and she turned towards him, her ribs tightening infinitesimally as his gaze shifted from the road to her face. ‘It’s a slightly longer journey but we’re in no rush and it will give you a chance to see the country.’
His country. The unspoken end to the sentence made her pulse punch erratically because, of course, they were on his turf now. Here in Italy, she knew no one. She couldn’t even speak the language.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true, she thought, her face suddenly burning. Ettore had taught her a few very specific words.
