Page 216 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
“Not as much as the opera, but yes. Thank you for yesterday, by the way. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed live performances. I think the last time I saw anything was a play when I was still living in London.”
“Oh?” He loosened his bow tie and reached his arm behind her on the love seat, legs kicking out with relaxation. “Why so long?”
“Axel and I only went to things we had to attend. Work functions. Galas.”
“I despised him for making you walk away from me in London.” Rocco’s mouth twisted with animosity. “Once you were engaged to him, I would have gladly taken him out behind the nearest dumpster. I honestly didn’t think my opinion of him could be lower, but he didn’t even take you on a decent date?” He snorted with disgust and sipped his wine.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?” His hooded gaze sharpened. “Why are you defending him?”
“Because I don’t hatehim. He was always nice to me. Or respectful, at least. The engagement forced us into proximity and we made it work by keeping it businesslike andnotgetting personal. But…” She tilted her red wine so it caught the candlelight, glowing like a ruby.
“But?”
She wasn’t sure if she liked this side-by-side arrangement. It made it too easy to share confidences. If she’d been facing him head-on, she would feel confronted and would guard herself more carefully. Sitting next to him like this allowed her to feel the warmth of his body and smell his aftershave, and they had to lean close to hear each other. That made it feel safe to reveal unhappy truths.
“I felt like a paper doll,” she admitted. “Pin on a dress, go where I’m put. I knew our marriage wouldn’t last any longer than it had to. I thought there would be a trade-off in the long run, but now, I feel robbed of that time we were stuck with each other. We both do. That’s why I’m defending him. He didn’t do this to me. Otto did it to us.”
“Yet you didn’t partner with Axel against Otto.”
“No,” she agreed circumspectly. “I’m in the way of the chess moves Axel has open to him. He would have discouraged me from pulling my assets. He still wants the company and doesn’t want it devalued by the time he gets it.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“Not yet.”
“I would prefer you keep it that way.” He touched the earring he’d given her, stirring her hair against her nape enough to make her shiver. “In fact, I’d prefer we quit talking about him altogether, but I do have one more question.”
“I’m not going to tell you what his chess move is. Not unless he actually tries to do it.” She tried to meet his gaze with a look of resolve, but she was very outgunned.
His jacket was open, exposing more of his white shirt and the powerful chest beneath. She could feel his pant leg brushing hers where the ribbons of her skirt had parted to leave it bare.
“I don’t care what Axel does to Otto or Vorstoben. I want you to go back to what you said about keeping things businesslike, not personal.” His gaze followed the finger he dropped to trace the edge of the ribbon that formed the strap of her dress. She felt goose bumps rise behind the tickling touch he drew on her upper arm. “Am I to understand that means you weren’t sleeping with him?”
“I’m not sure why that’s any business of yours,” she said stiffly, burying her pursed lips against the rim of her wineglass. Then, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she admitted, “But, no. I wasn’t.”
Should she tell him she’d never slept with anyone? She could hardly move. Her vision was trying to divine the future in the glow within her wineglass while her scalp tingled and all the polarity in her body seemed to orient itself to him. Anticipation held her in a type of stasis, awaiting his mouth on her ear, her cheek.
“You’re driving me out of my mind in this dress.” He looked down as he carefully smoothed one ribbon of her skirt along the top of her thigh, causing the dangling tails of silk to shift and caress her legs. “Would you like to hear all the fantasies I have for it? How do you feel about light bondage?”
She choked on her wine and almost spilled it down the gown in question. Rocco was forced to sit back as she set aside her glass and pressed her napkin to her mouth.
The server took advantage of their break in canoodling to deliver their first course, explaining it was something-something with a something sauce.
“Are you going to behave?” she asked Rocco as the server walked away and Rocco’s hand came back to her leg, tangling itself in the ribbons.
“No. I’m going to break his arm if he interrupts us again,” he murmured against her ear.
“Soromantic,” she said facetiously, then gave in to the urge to touch him. She let her fingertips settle against the side of his throat while she drank in the faded tang of his aftershave and studied his mouth. His teeth flashed in the briefest of wicked smiles.
“You can take the dog off the streets, but you cannot take the streets out of the dog.” His tone was light and self-deprecating.
She didn’t laugh. A pang hit her. Not pity. Something deeper. Empathy. He had lost his parents and was alone in the world. They were more alike than perhaps either of them realized. Even though she had always had ample funds at her disposal, she had suffered other types of deprivation and she sensed a similar ache of emptiness in him. She responded to it.
“Will you kiss me?” she asked with a throb in her chest.
There was a vibration in his throat beneath her fingertips, as though he growled too low to be heard over the music. His head dipped and angled. His mouth scraped hers once, twice, just enough to part her lips before he settled in for a long, slow, thorough kiss.
