Page 85 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

‘To be fair, when I came to Italy I only spoke English. My initial attempts were dreadful.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘He still thinks I could do much better but he doesn’t pull faces quite so often.’ Her eyes met Gio’s and he caught a glimmer of humour. ‘His wife stopped him.’

‘She’s obviously fond of you.’

Stella looked surprised, as if the idea had never occurred to her. Then she smiled, but not in agreement.

‘No, she’s not. But she has strong views on appropriate behaviour and public image. Rocco acting like a stroppy teenager detracts from their image.’

Intrigued, Gio surveyed Stella, but her expression gave little away. There was no rancour in her words, she just stated facts.

What was her relationship with her family?

Nothing she’d said indicated they were close. Was it possible her appearance at his hotelwasn’ta Barbieri plot to acquire sensitive commercial information? That she didn’t know who he was?

Yet she’d checked into his hotel under a false name. Then prowled the building in the dead of night, trying to access the private entrance to his administrative headquarters. Plus there were her attempts to cultivate the staff. To build relationships in hopes of later getting unguarded information?

‘You look very stern.’ Stella surveyed him. ‘I’m sorry if you feel I misled you. It was silly of me, I suppose. When we met I was feeling emotionally bruised over something and it was appealing, just being an English-speaking tourist.’

‘I think I understand.’

He was tempted to believe her motives were easily explained. To be fair, he’d found an unexpected freedom in being just Gio, not Giancarlo Valenti. What had begun as a careful masquerade had become something else.

The more time he spent with Stella, the more he believed her. Believed or wanted to believe?

With her long hair caught up in a casual knot and her burnt-orange shirt tied below her breasts, she was so appealing she took his breath away. Her skin glowed with good health and her dark eyes gleamed as they held his.

If he took out his phone and snapped her photo with the stunning Amalfi coastline behind her, he’d have an image that would sell any product he chose. He could open a new hotel here, on the strength of that alone. Visitors would flock here, not just for the vista but for the promise in Stella’s eyes.

Except he had no desire to share Stella, not even her image, with anyone.

Gio wanted to keep her to himself. Despite his suspicions about her. It was even possible those suspicions added spice to this sizzling attraction.

A chill clamped his nape. He recalled his father’s absolute obsession with his wife. The powerful connection even death couldn’t shatter, and the never-ending pain that unbreakable devotion wrought. Had it begun like this?

He heard the chink of china on china as his cup found its saucer. He felt the blossom-scented breeze waft across his skin. But the sensations seemed to come from afar as the world telescoped to contain just Stella, lips parted as if in expectation.

The weight of desire pulsed between them and suddenly relief flooded him, making him almost light-headed. This was simply sex. Nothing more complicated.

He felt the heavy torsion in his groin and saw her nipples pebble against her shirt.

Just like that she undid him.

‘Gio, I…’

He reached out, cradling her head and pulling her close as he leaned in. Their mouths touched and fused, easing just a little of the tension that gripped him in a vice.

He sighed as she shifted closer, one soft palm to his cheek, her other hand grabbing his shirt. The delicate scent of lilac and sexy woman teased him.

Volcanic heat rose, the need for her a craving.

His hand found her leg, sliding up her thigh and taking the thin fabric of her skirt with it. His heart galloped as he found silky flesh and—

A blare of sound sliced the air.

Stella jumped. A second later she pulled back.

Gio found himself staring into bewildered espresso eyes as he registered the loud rap music. He jerked around, seeing the newly arrived group at the far end of the terrace. The music ended as one of them answered their phone, his companions regarding Gio and Stella curiously.

Gio threw some money onto the table and reached again for Stella’s hand. ‘Come on, it’s time to leave.’