Page 39 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
‘I’m not walking out now.’ His hands were suddenly holding her shoulders and maybe it was that or maybe it was his words, but she felt the bag slip from her fingers.
‘I’m not going anywhere, but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.’
‘You can’t help.’ She shook off his hands and took an unsteady step backwards. ‘You don’t know what it’s like living with an addict. You don’t understand how relentless they are. How determined they are to hurt themselves. How every morning, you wake up wondering how you’re going to get through the day, how you’re going to getthemthrough the day without everything imploding.’
‘And it’s every day,’ Ettore said quietly. ‘Every day you have to stay alert and focused. You can never relax, except sometimes you have to. Sometimes you want to, only then you have to deal with the consequences. Because they’re your responsibility.’
Ettore breathed out unsteadily. Dulcie was staring at him in shock and something like panic. But then it wasn’t often that somebody read your mind. Of course, it was more than simple mind-reading. He knew exactly what she was feeling because he had walked in her shoes.
She cleared her throat. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Many great dynasties have been rumoured to have a curse. In Italy, it is my family who have been troubled by tragedy. But the big stuff, the visible stuff, that’s all in the public domain. Nothing to see there. Unfortunately, my family also specialises in behind the scenes chaos. My job is to hide that chaos. To bury the scandals. To clear up their messes. Their titles may be royal. Their behaviour, unfortunately, is less so. And it’s been that way since before I can remember.’
Was he really going to do this now? Apparently, yes.
The thought made his hand reach automatically for the back of his neck as it always did when he was stressed. And yet, he didn’t feel stressed. Oddly,al contrario, in fact, it felt like the right time. Or maybe Dulcie was the right person, the only person who could understand.
‘What kind of chaos?’ she said now.
‘My brother, Edo, was a gambler. I don’t mean he liked a flutter on the horses. I mean high-stakes poker games with six-figure buy-ins. There was one year where I pretty much spent every week flying round the world paying off his debts. My uncle keeps a string of mistresses. My father did, too. And then there’s my cousins. Checco and his brothers like to get coked up and hang out with the offspring of dodgy businessmen. And by businessmen, I mean gangsters.’
It felt strange after so long spent smoothing over the cracks to suddenly press against them, strange and yet satisfying somehow to watch the veneer splinter and buckle.
‘All of them have spent time in very expensive, very discreet clinics in Switzerland. Not like the Dymphna. There’s no glossy webpage with testimonials. No group therapy, no communal area. Patients stay in their own villa or apartment and have their own driver, housekeeper, chef and live-in therapist, as well as daily one-on-one sessions with a team of psychiatrists, doctors, nurses, yoga teachers, masseuses, nutritionists, hypnotherapists and trauma therapists.’
‘But it all looks so perfect.’ Dulcie seemed stunned. ‘When I saw the castle, I thought that’s why you didn’t want Oscar around. But that wasn’t the reason, was it?’
It wasn’t. But better to let Dulcie believe it was the reason she was reaching for, than share the truth. Shaking his head, he reached forward and stroked her cheek. ‘Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. I love my family, but they are alcoholics, sex addicts, drug addicts, gamblers. So, I think I can help you. I’d like to help.’
He turned and unlocked the safe and pulled out Dulcie’s passport.
‘And if you want to leave and go to see Oscar, I won’t stop you.’
He thought back to that day when Oscar had turned up, his eyes glazed, his speech slurred. Dulcie had been beside herself, not outwardly, but her body had been taut like a bowstring, and she’d had eyes only for Oscar. It had been as though she were wearing blinkers, and it was all so horribly familiar to him, that feeling of being invisible and irrelevant, that he had frozen. Frozen Dulcie out.
And he hated that he’d done that. But hating himself wasn’t enough. He needed to put things right. To be the husband she had needed then and still needed now.
He held out the passport. ‘But if you leave, I’m coming with you.’
‘You’d do that for me?’
‘You’re my wife. And you were my wife two years ago when I let you down.’
She was biting her lip, and the tears she’d been holding back had started streaking her cheeks.
‘I don’t want to let Oscar down. Not again.’
‘I doubt you’ve ever let him down.’ He reached out and stroked her face, but she jerked away.
‘But I did. I let him down so badly.’
Her pain pierced him deep inside. ‘Maybe it’s only bad in your head.’
Her eyes met his briefly and then she shook her head slowly. ‘I left him.’
‘When?’
‘When my parents divorced. My dad asked me to choose between him and my mum.’ She pressed her wrist against her mouth. ‘I chose my dad because I knew if he left me, I’d never see him again.’
