Page 4 of Modern Romance December 2025 5-8

When he finished his scrutiny and turned his attention to her, it felt like a highly charged laser beam had honed in on her. Every inch of her skin came alight at his thorough, thoughtful perusal. His gaze lingered over the dark circles under her eyes—thanks to being unable to sleep well with her belly—the stress lines around her mouth that she saw deepen in the mirror every morning, the uneven flutter of her pulse at her neck, and lower.

Although mercifully, his gaze didn’t linger there long.

He leaned against the wall next to the door, mirroring her stance. But while fresh tension suffused her, he looked casual with his foot propped on the wall behind him, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

“Enough posturing, Mr. DiCarlo. Let’s discuss why you are here.”

Another rise of the damned brow, another challenge.

Mimi sighed. “I’m tired and in no mood to play the host to you.”

“Let’s sit down then.”

“Shouldn’t take that long,” she said stubbornly, even though her lower back was killing her.

Anger flashed in his eyes, but when he spoke, his voice was smooth. “I’m more than happy to skip all the dramatics and jump to the Q and A session if you promise to give me truthful answers.”

She bristled at his condescending tone. “I have no interest in lying to you.”

“Except the giant lie of omission that we’re both evading.”

“I won’t insult you by offering pathetic excuses. I’d do the same thing again.”

“Which is exactly what?”

“Hide the fact that the last round of IVF worked and that I’m pregnant. With…their child.” Her throat prickled, but she pushed on. “Retreat from everyone I know. Escape to this quiet village. All of it.”

Something glittered in his gaze. “Am I to understand that even your parents are unaware of this…development?”

“Yes. They flew to Australia right after Santo and Pia’s wake for Mom’s latest movie shoot.”

“And may I inquire why this secrecy was necessary?”

Mimi stared at him, pleasantly surprised by the genuine curiosity in his question. She felt infinitely better knowing that she could at least read him clearly. “It was a lot toward the end. My stepsister wasn’t…” She hesitated, grief and guilt scraping their claws through her.

The grief she understood. As contentious and problematic as their relationship had been, she had loved Pia. And the loss was going to change her. Had already changed her in irrevocable ways. But the guilt wasn’t healthy or good for the baby, her ob-gyn had told her over and over. That Pia was gone while Mimi was alive and healthy with the child she desperately craved…it hung over her like a dark cloud whatever she tried.

“Ms. Shah?” Suddenly, Mr. DiCarlo was standing close, his large hand clutching her elbow. “You’ve turned alarmingly pale.”

Mimi pulled away, the sudden strangely familiar scent of him filling her nostrils. She could feel herself swaying on the balls of her feet, eager to fall into his strong arms, eager to let someone else carry the weight of her burdens for one glorious moment.

“I’m fine,” she said, swallowing.

With a muttered curse, he pulled back and dragged the straight-backed chair from her desk. It thumped against the bare wooden floor as he placed it in front of her. “I won’t think less of you if you sit down.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think about me.”

“Davvero?Then why are you being so goddamned stubborn? You’re heavily pregnant and weaving where you stand, and I’m supposed to think you’re better than Pia?”

The intense frustration that colored his words, and the mention of her stepsister, sliced a little fracture in Mimi’s prickly defenses. The moment she sat down, the twinges in her lower back eased, and a rough breath whistled out from between her lips.

A different kind of discomfort, something close to shame, danced in her chest. He was right. And she hated that she’d let him provoke her into acting like an immature child. When he squatted to look into her downturned face, alarm skittered through her.

The last thing she expected of Renzo DiCarlo was that he would kneel in front of anyone, much less her.

Don’t let it go to your head. It’s only because you’re carrying the DiCarlo child, the sensible voice she trusted whispered.

“That’s a miracle right in front of my eyes,” she said, trying hard to dispel the mounting tension at his nearness.