Page 128 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

‘That was a monumentally stupid thing to do,’ he said succinctly, before knocking back both glasses of champagne in his hands.

‘Are you just going to leave me here?’ she demanded.

‘It’s your bed. You lie in it.’ And with that he stalked off without a backward glance.

Erin pushed the long thick wet ropes of her hair back from her face.

This is all your fault.

Did you tell your husband that we slept together?

Oh, the man was a beast!

He’d gone and left that poor woman alone to facehismusic, while her husband splashed about furiously making things worse.

Someone handed her a towel which she gratefully accepted. She walked, rather slowly because of the way that the water pressed against the silk skirts of the gorgeous—and now ruined—dress, towards the steps and awkwardly hauled herself from the pool.

Everyone was in paroxysms of gossip, pointing and staring, and just like that Erin’s cheeks flamed. Oh, she knew they weren’t talking about her, but the staring and the pointing, the pity, and the sniggers... It was all a little too much like what she had experienced as a taller-than-average sixteen-year-old new student with a posh British accent in a Cornish state school.

A painful, ugly blush rose to her cheeks from her throat, and reached out across her chest. And no matter how much she tried calm thoughts and slow breathing, nothing worked to dim the red stain of humiliation.

She looked into the crowds just in time to see Enzo running away from a chaotic scene of his own making, after his extra-marital affair had been discovered.

And she was supposed to marry this man?

If there had been even the slightest hesitation, any twist of conscience, left over from the concerns about manipulating or using Enzo Rossetti for her own means, there were none remaining.

Enzo Rossetti deserved everything he had coming to him.

Chapter Two

It was notevery day that Enzo Rossetti found himself on the back foot. But from the moment he’d left Marcus’s party last night, he’d not been able to get the haunting image of cool blue eyes and thick dark wet ropes of rubies from his mind.

The woman had been unacceptable collateral damage in a war he’d had no idea had been raging. But he should have handled it better, at least ensuring that no one got caught in the cross-fire.

He puffed out a breath of air as he looked up at the pale yellow building wedged, like its neighbours, as tightly up to the cobbled streets as possible. Real estate was a limited commodity in Capri, and every inch was used to its full potential. He craned his neck back to peer up at what appeared to be a very neat B&B rather than the more expensive hotels in Anacapri.

Oh, it was still in a very beautiful part of the island, but it just hadn’t been what he’d expected from the fiery siren he’d encountered, albeit ever so briefly, the night before.

Still, he’d paid a high price to discover Erin Carter’s name and location, facilitated by various incredibly efficient members of staff. He’d considered asking Marcus what he knew of her, but dismissed the idea. The man would be incomprehensible for at least another twenty-four hours. He’d never handled his alcohol well.

Enzo entered through the glossy white doorway, and found the Signora at the small wooden reception. He explained his predicament, and she gave him an assessing look. He imagined that a grandmother would have looked at him like that, had he ever had one. He’d long ago given up the childish habit of searching for information on his extended family. His father’s parents were no longer alive, and his mother’s? Well, the Gallo clan were just as famous as his parents and not a single one had ever come looking for him, no matter the stories about him and his parents in the press. And Enzo certainly wasn’t going to go begging for their attention.

‘Allora,’ she said with a nod of her head, before explaining that she would let Signorina Carter know that he was here and she could decide for herself whether she wanted to see him.

He found himself hustled into a courtyard with much flapping of hands and, biting back a smile, turned to wait for the woman that would come down to meet him. He was sure of it.

The courtyard was pretty, ancient bougainvillea twisting up to the roof and out across the building. Large terracotta pots barely containing small-leafed plants in need of a good trim. In the corner an olive tree’s silvery leaves rippled in the soft breeze. It was, he could admit, in its own way quite beautiful. And then he laughed at himself for the fanciful thought.

He crossed over to the pots that contained the lavender, curious about their scent, and inhaled for a moment, letting the calm it brought him hit home.

In the background he was conscious of the sounds of the hostel, the windows open and the balconies above that looked down on the area.

‘It was unspeakable.’

The words drifted down from a balcony somewhere above. The disdain so evident it caught his attention as much as the English words.

‘No, it hasn’t changed my mind at all. I’m more determined than ever.’