Page 93 of Modern Romance December 2025 5-8

Reclaimed On Romano’s Terms

Kim Lawrence

Prologue

The lights thathad been on earlier when they left the house were still blazing as the car turned into the long tree-lined driveway of the Manor. In the driver’s seat Amy’s father was silent, as he had been the entire journey back from the hospital.

It wasn’t a relaxed, comfortable silence; it was a tense, nerve-stretching absence of sound. The only times he had even acknowledged her presence was when he’d delivered a series of poisonous icy glares when she had dared risk a surreptitious glance at the numerous missed messages on her phone screen.

Amy’s fingers remained curled around the phone but after a swift sideways glance at her father’s profile—even his double chin looked furious—she didn’t pull it out. A spasm of self-contempt tugged the corners of her lips downward.

Not so brave now,sneered the voice in her head.

Earlier, it had been a different story.

She had stood defiant in the face of her parents’ reaction, even though normally her mother would act as the voice of moderation whenever she incurred her father’s displeasure, but not this time.

Her parents had been united in their horror.

Amy shook her head as though the action would physically block the scene that continued to play out in her head in a loop.

It didn’t.

‘How far has this gone?’ her father thundered inside her head as the replay loop reached the cliffhanger moment.

‘How far has it gone…?’ she’d repeated. ‘No further than I wanted it to.’

Her mother whimpered and gasped, ‘My baby!’

The memory of that response twisted the knife of guilt a few painful inches deeper in Amy’s chest.

‘Mum, this isn’t a Victorian melodrama and I’m not a child. I’m nineteen next week.’

Lost in her own miserable thoughts, she didn’t notice the engine had been switched off until her father opened the car door, still ignoring her. Amy caught his sleeve and he swung around, his eyes sliding from her face to her hand grasping the tweed of his jacket.

When she let go, he smoothed the fabric as though she had contaminated it with her touch.

‘Mum will be all right, won’t she, Dad?’

Despite the doctors’ confident assertions, Amy still found it difficult to believe, even after her prayers had been answered and her mother had regained consciousness.

Amy would have promised anything at that moment, and she had.

She flinched now as her father’s response was a slammed door.

The security lights came on as he marched towards the front door they must have left wide open in their hurry to leave in the slipstream of the ambulance’s blue flashing lights.

Biting her already raw full lower lip, Amy extricated herself from the passenger seat and stood in the shadows of the semi lit forecourt. The night air hit her, cooling her skin but not the swirling mass of tormented emotions twisting in her head.

Out of habit, she glanced up at the clock tower above the arch that led to the stable block, her eyes widening when she saw it was one-thirty. Had itreallyonly been six hours earlier when she had stood, bag packed, telling her parents of her intention to leave? She knew her over-confident declaration had been defensively aggressive to compensate for the fact her knees were shaking and her stomach churning in apprehension.

Having spent her life wrapped in cotton wool that had come to feel like a strait jacket she was breaking free of, taking a massive step into the unknown and facing parental disapproval, it was small wonder her knees had been shaking.

Six hours—which meant that Leo had been waiting for her for five hours by now. She had allowed herself a comfortable hour to get to their prearranged meeting spot. She had been terrified of being late and somehow missing him.

Was he still waiting?

What had he thought when she didn’t show?