Page 54 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

She hadn’t realised she’d moved until she was standing before him, toe to toe, neck arched to hold his stare, fisted hands planted on her hips.

‘Who do you think you are?No oneowns me. I’m not a piece of property.’

Though her father used her exactly like that, as an asset to be traded.

‘Get out of here,’ she snarled. ‘You’re not wanted. You’re not welcome.’

Something blazed in his eyes but she was too het up to read it.

‘Oh, I’m going. And you’re coming with me.’ Hard fingers wrapped around her elbow, his warmth seeping into chilled flesh.

Everyone shouted at once, remonstrating, threatening or cursing. Men from the congregation thronged forward, encircling the intruder, but still he stood his ground. Angry hands reached for him as he said, calmly and clearly, ‘Do you really think I’d let you marry another man when you’re pregnant with my baby?’

If he’d thrown a bomb into the crowd it couldn’t have had more impact. She saw the reverberation ripple through the throng as horrified eyes turned to her. Her father, bright red, was unrecognisable, his face twisted with shock and contempt.

Automatically Stella shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible.

Desperately she caught Eduardo’s gaze but before either could move, Giancarlo Valenti tugged her hard against him.

‘Which man here would stand between a man and his child?’

Everyone stilled, some even retreated a step. In that instant Valenti spun around, his arm clamping her to his side, half carrying her as he strode down the aisle.

He moved so fast she scrabbled to keep her feet on the ground, all the while trying to break his hold. It was only when they reached the blinding sunlight that Stella managed to land a blow. She jabbed him with her elbow, kicked at his shin, trying to wrestle free.

But in seconds they were beside a long black car with tinted windows. A man with dark glasses and bulky muscles beneath his suit held the back door open.

Stella aimed another vicious kick at her captor, jabbing her high heel onto his instep, rejoicing when he flinched and finally released her.

She retreated a step, panting with exertion, not quite believing he’d let her go.

‘What’s it to be, Stella? Do we discuss this in private? Or do you want to try explaining to the mob?’

Behind them, like a roaring wave bearing down on them, came a furious babble of irate, outraged voices, coming closer by the second.

Stella hauled in a desperate breath as she surveyed his smug expression, one coal-black eyebrow raised, his mouth curved in a knowing smile at her expense.

She drew herself up to her full height. ‘You’re despicable. I never knew what it was to hate someone before I met you.’

It would have been nice to think that was shock crossing his self-satisfied face, but she knew he didn’t care enough about anyone else for her words to affect him.

She swallowed hard. She’d never spat at anyone in her life and was sorely tempted to make an exception now, but she refused to lower herself to his crass level.

Instead she grabbed her heavy skirts and turned away, sinking onto the back seat of the limousine.

CHAPTER TWO

Fourteen weeks earlier

‘So you wantmore autonomy, Stella?’ Alfredo Barbieri leaned back in his leather desk chair, elbows on its arms and fingers steepled beneath his chin. His bushy eyebrows lowered. ‘But not just autonomy. You want me to hand over a hotel to you. Ahotel!’

That beetling look was designed to bully people into submission. She’d seen it work time and again, even on senior executives.

For years she’d done everything she could to please the man she’d met when she was ten.

Initially grief, gratitude and the desire to belong had motivated her. But as the years progressed she learned it was easier to avoid her father’s temper, never rocking the boat, working hard and going the extra mile to fit in with her newfound family. Pretending not to notice slights and deliberate exclusions.

But there was a difference between fitting in and being a doormat. The time had come to assert herself.