Page 101 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

CHAPTER SEVEN

S HE WAS STILL thinking of his abrupt change of subject yesterday afternoon, when she was starting her workday the next morning.

Out of idle curiosity, she opened the envelope that she had left here on the desk, hoping he would be enticed to read it.

She recalled that it contained their marriage certificate and that her lawyers had requested a copy of the long form, which—to her shock—had the names of both of their birth parents listed.

Damian’s father was a man named Nicholas Gatz, birthplace “unknown, Australia.”

She quickly shoved everything back in the envelope and looped the string around and around the little button that closed it, as if that would put all the troubles, woes and vices back in Pandora’s box.

It was impossible to squelch now, though. The name floated from her eyeballs into her mind and down her fingertips into her laptop.

Dozens of profiles turned up from minor celebrities to social media to ancestry sites.

Maybe that’s why Damian had never looked for him. It was a needle in a haystack.

Even so, Carmel couldn’t resist digging deeper.

This was one of the reasons she had struggled in school.

It wasn’t that she struggled to read or learn.

She just loathed doing what was expected of her.

Why solve boring math equations when there was a far more interesting mystery to investigate—like a pop star’s love life or how skirt length had changed through the ages.

It would literally be quicker and easier to jab Damian in his sleep for a blood sample and send it to one of those DNA sites than it was to figure out which of these men might be his father, but she couldn’t help herself.

Before she realized what she was doing, she had lost the afternoon to compiling a list of contenders based on age and photos that bore some resemblance to him.

Of course, she had her earbuds in the whole time. She didn’t hear Damian until an alteration in the fall of light from the doorway made her look up and see him.

She quit singing and slapped the laptop closed, face hot as she pulled out her earbuds.

“Why so guilty?” he asked with amusement. He was covered in sweat and dust, and she liked the way his shirt clung across his chest as he braced his arm against the jamb. He didn’t have a right to look so sexy. “Are you watching something kinky?”

“Christmas movies. Too early?” It was a joke, obviously, but it still felt like a lie because she was using it to cover up what she was really doing.

She winced. Almost whimpered, but it was hitting her that what she’d been doing was a massive overstep.

“I don’t want to tell you. You’ll yell at me. ”

He dropped his arm and his glimmer of humor disappeared. “No, I won’t. Tell me.”

“You will,” she assured him dolefully. “I know when I’ve done something that will get me into trouble.”

“Then why do it?”

“I don’t know!” It was enormously frustrating.

“Not enough boundaries as a child so I don’t know where they are?

” Her therapist would say she created chaos as a means of taking control.

“I’m obstinate. I don’t want to be, but I am.

And sometimes, when the little voice in my head says, You can’t do that , another voice says, Oh, yeah? Watch me. ”

“Get to the point, Carmel.”

“I just happened to look…at our marriage certificate.” She swallowed. “And I noticed your father’s name was on it.”

His body gathered as tall as one of those black clouds grew to tower in the sky, promising biblical retribution.

“I didn’t do anything!” she cried, holding up a hand. “I just wanted to see if I could find him. I can’t. There’s at least a hundred contenders.” Of which, she had eliminated forty-three.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“See, you’re yelling.”

“ Why , Carmel? What were you going to do? Hold it over me in some way?”

“ No. I just wondered if I could find him.” Her voice faded because it was such a lame reason.

“It’s a puzzle. I’m chasing a dopamine fix that comes from solving a mystery.

And I’m curious. I mean, I can guess what your mom was like because I’ve met Zoia.

But how much of you is like her and your grandparents and what parts of you come from him? ”

“Who cares? It’s none of your business! If I wanted to meet him, I’d find him myself.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve cut your own father out of your life. Why would you presume I want anything to do with mine?”

“You’re right. I didn’t think it through.” She bit her lip, trying to hide that her mouth was beginning to quiver.

“You have no right to my private life, Carmel. You are not my wife. You’re nothing to me. Do you understand that?”

“I know.” Hot, helpless tears seared the backs of her eyes. Her stomach churned with remorse.

He swore under his breath, looking away, then his gaze slammed back to hers.

“Get out.” He stepped out of the doorway and pointed at her room. “Get your things and get walking. I don’t need this.”

Her heart swerved. Her stomach wrenched sickly because he was angry and disappointed. Because she had crossed a line. Because she was failing. She had done something wrong again and was rightly being punished for it.

She wanted to slink away in shame, but there was another part of her that sparked with fight. Sometimes she was thoughtless, but she wasn’t mean. She might have done something wrong, but she wasn’t bad .

“No,” she said.

“What did you say?” he asked, astounded.

“I said, ‘no.’ I won’t leave.” She rose and lifted her chin in defiance. “I made a mistake, Damian. I said I was sorry.”

“Oh, that makes it all better then, doesn’t it?”

“People make mistakes. I make mistakes. You want to believe I had some master plan to ruin your life when I married you, but guess what? I’m not that smart! I made a dumb, stupid mistake. Same as you. And I would leave, but I promised Zoia—”

“Ha! As if you care about her,” he shouted scathingly.

“You shut your damned mouth,” she yelled.

“I do care about her. Do you know how scared she is to have this surgery? Do you? She thinks it will kill her and leave you with no one. She needs to know you’ll still have someone who cares about you if she doesn’t make it.

Well, you have had five years to find someone better than me.

It can’t be that hard! The bar is at the bottom of the ocean.

But this is what you chose.” She pointed at herself.

“So quit acting like all of this is my fault. I’m here because you wanted me here. Live with it.”

She barreled past him and darted into her room across the hall, slamming her door behind her.

Then she leaned on it, clenching her eyes and holding her breath as she fought the spiny sobs that crowded into her throat.

Damian was livid.

He stepped into a cold shower, purely to cool his temper.

Who interfered in someone’s life that way?

Carmel did. Because she did whatever she wanted and didn’t care who she hurt. She was selfish. Thoughtless.

Whereas he had been worried about her. She’d taken to bringing his lunch and, when she didn’t turn up, he’d been concerned that she’d tripped or gotten lost.

He liked working with his employees when he was here.

It grounded him to do the mindless work of physical labor and showed his employees he would never ask them to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself.

It was a way to reinforce what he’d told Carmel, that this estate was his home.

He was a part of it. This was where he belonged.

He had needed that sense of belonging as a child, when he had felt discarded. At least his grandmother had wanted him here. And, as he proved his worth and invested his own sweat into the dirt, his grandfather had wanted him here, too.

This was his home so he took care of it.

He had begun to enjoy the midday break with Carmel, though. Eating in the shade, talking about what they were working on that day and having lighthearted arguments over each other’s taste in books and movies.

His mind kept circling back to her saying their marriage would have blown up anyway, because of her alcohol addiction.

An egotistical part of him wanted to believe he could have helped her through that, but he hadn’t even realized she needed help.

He’d had blinders on because he’d been so focused on his own goals.

In that respect, he’d had no business marrying anyone, either.

Not when he hadn’t been prepared to give her all of himself.

He’d wanted her, though. He could admit that there had been an element of not wanting to lose his chance. In the haze of anger that he’d kept kindled so fiercely through the years, he’d forgotten that he actually liked her.

When he had come in to hear her singing about dancing the night away, he’d been impressed by her voice again, and amused at how caught up she became in her work, not realizing she was belting out a song as though she stood on a Broadway stage.

That gave him pause.

He flicked off the water and stepped out, acknowledging she was naturally single-minded and driven to get what she wanted, not unlike him.

It didn’t excuse her invading his privacy, though.

Telling her to leave had been a reflexive reaction.

He hadn’t thought it through, but Zoia wouldn’t refuse the surgery at this stage.

The date was set. They’d both spoken with the specialist. She understood the risks and that she would need time to recover, but ultimately, she could expect her life to be prolonged. Her quality of life would improve.

Carmel didn’t need to be here any longer.

Except as emotional support for Zoia.

He’d been aware of his grandmother’s reservations, but Carmel had called it fear. He only wanted Zoia to be well. And alive. He wasn’t trying to bully her, but now he felt as though he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to Zoia’s concerns.