Page 62 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

‘What’s your name?’

‘Stella.’ She saw he was waiting for more but she didn’t want to give it. She liked the untethered freedom that anonymity provided. She wanted to savour it. ‘Just Stella.’

If word got out about where she was, her father would send someone to bring her home and she desperately needed time alone. That was why she’d chosen a hotel owned by Giancarlo Valenti. Given her father’s hatred of the Valenti family no Barbieri would stay on the premises. At least she hoped that was what he’d think.

‘A pretty name. It means star.’

‘Yes. That’s what my mother used to call me, her little star.’ She stopped abruptly, aware she was babbling again. ‘And you are?’

‘Gio.’ His gaze held hers with curious gravity. Almost as if he expected her to know the name.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Gio. Are you from Rome?’ He might have been eating at the hotel rather than staying there.

For a moment longer his expression was unreadable. Then he smiled. ‘No, but I visit often.’ He gestured towards the road where there was a break in the traffic and together they made it to the large cobblestoned piazza and began walking across. Ahead a group of tourists posed before a huge, ornate fountain. ‘And you? I know you’re not local.’

‘No.’ She paused, wary of sharing too much, then shook off the urge for caution, impatient that she was overthinking things. ‘I’m Australian. From Melbourne.’

‘You’ve left an Australian winter for spring in Rome? It’s a good time to be here. Before the true heat and all the visitors. I assume Melbourne is chilly now?’

‘I—’ He’d taken her by surprise, assuming she’d flown straight from Australia. But it was easier to let him believe that than explain her true situation.

‘Melbourne winters are cold. The wind sweeps up from the Antarctic.’

She looked sideways and once more he was scrutinising her. But even as she thought it he smiled, a slow furling of the lips that made her pulse quicken. He really was an extraordinarily charismatic man.

Why was he spending time with her? But then he spoke and she shelved the question.

‘Not just in winter. I was there in spring and I’d swear we had four seasons in a day. Everything from rain and wind to blazing sun.’

Stella’s footsteps slowed. ‘You’ve been there?’

Strange that his casual comment should make her feel homesick. She no longer pined for Melbourne as she had through those terrible days when she grappled with the loss of her mother and everything she knew. But suddenly she yearned for that little suburban house with its well-tended garden. She remembered helping her mum pick home-grown vegetables and playing hopscotch with her friends on the cracked, concrete driveway.

‘Once or twice. But not for a while.’

‘You should visit in summer, in January when the Australian Open Tennis is on, right near the city centre. It’s a great day out.’

Her mother had taken her once. Not to centre court, because they couldn’t afford the tickets. They’d got a pass that gave access to the outside courts and practice areas. Her mum had packed a picnic and they’d drifted from court to court, seeing so many of the players Stella had heard about.

‘You’re a tennis player?’

‘Not for a long time.’ Her mother had been and Stella had loved her lessons on Saturday mornings. But there’d been no court near her father’s house and he hadn’t seen the need for her to travel just to hit a ball. She blinked and yanked her thoughts to the present. ‘How about you?’

He had the build of a sportsman.

‘I’ve been known to play from time to time. I’ll have to remember your advice next time I go to Australia.’ He gestured ahead. ‘Here we are.’

Stella’s attention was on the brightly decorated gelateria as she stepped onto the road. An engine roared suddenly and a hand closed around her elbow, pulling her back. She stumbled, colliding with a large, hard body as a tiny car sped past.

‘Alwayscheck the traffic before crossing.’

That deep voice didn’t sound lazy now but taut with concern. She looked up and felt again the unfamiliar ripple of awareness she’d experienced back in the hotel. As if Gio were no stranger but someone she knew. Or should have known in another life. As if they had an unseen connection.

She shook her head at the flight of fancy. It was ridiculously unlike her. She’d grown up to be practical, sensible and hard-working. As a child she might have believed in magic and fairytales, but she’d moved beyond that. The magic in her world had died with her mother.

‘Thank you.’ She stepped back and he released his hold. ‘I’ll remember to look out in future.’

She made some half-hearted joke about being too focused on getting her ice cream but felt strangely shaken.