Page 88 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

How many hours ago had he brought breakfast? She was grateful for the extra sleep yet wished he’d woken her. She’d rather have spent the time with him.

He was nowhere in the house. But eventually she located him far below the terrace, swimming in the sea.

Planting her hands on the terrace’s sun-warmed balustrade, she watched him swim across the small bay then turn and swim back. He had the rhythm and power of a professional athlete and it struck her that he had so much energy he must revel in the freedom of sea swimming. Yet he’d never complained about lolling by the pool with her.

It struck her again how often he put her needs first. He needn’t have offered her this fabulous hideaway. It was incredible he’d brought her, a stranger, to this private retreat. She wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging in delight at that proof she was important to him. He’d felt that immediate connection too.

So often he’d invited her to tell him about herself but she’d changed the subject, not wanting to discuss her family and her current, troubling situation. But increasingly she felt guilty about that, as if she were lying to him by omission. He’d trusted her so much, bringing her here and letting her set the ground rules of their relationship. Yet she’d repaid him by brushing off his attempts to understand her life better.

Surely the fact he wants to know more about your life is significant. He’s interested in more than sex.

Maybe he wanted more from this relationship too. His interest, his tenderness were real and there in every generous gesture, every caress.

She’d never felt so special.

There was sexual excitement and fulfilment but more too. Understanding and support. Laughter and a listening ear. Trust and companionship. Tenderness and consideration.

She wasn’t ready to give it up.

All the more reason to talk with him properly today. To be open, tell him about her life and plans and see if there was a chance their relationship might progress. She kept fantasising about him in her life long-term. About a relationship that grew and strengthened. About feelings stronger than lust and liking.

She’d shied from putting a name to what she felt but it grew too big to ignore.

She turned and went to grab her swimsuit and a beach towel. She needed to be with Gio.

Inside, she heard a buzzing and followed it to the security console. A camera at the gate showed a man holding a package. ‘Delivery for—’

‘Wait there. I’ll come out.’

She didn’t want to let in a stranger. It was possible her brother had located her in Rome. Could he have found her here?

Her heart pounded as she approached the gates. She didn’t recognise the courier.

‘I’ll need a signature,’ the stranger said as he held a mobile device through the gate’s bars.

Stella scrawled a deliberately unreadable signature and a second later he pushed a large, thick envelope between the bars of the gate. It caught and held but she tugged it free.

Instantly the courier turned away, hurrying to his vehicle, more interested in his tight schedule than her.

A shaky sigh escaped. Her family couldn’t have found her here. Even if they had, what could they do? Once her brothers’ bruising disapproval and her father’s domineering ways might have weighed heavily. But this time with Gio had reinforced her decision to make a stand against their pressure.

She was halfway back to the house when she glanced down to see the envelope had torn when pushed through the gate.

Her steps faltered.

Dimly she heard a motor start, the courier leaving. She blinked and spun around, about to call him back and tell him he’d delivered his package to the wrong place.

Except this was no mistake.

She’dmade the mistake.

It was clear and unmistakable.

Express to Signor Giancarlo Valenti

Villa Rosa

There on the gate was a discreet plaque: Villa Rosa. If the address weren’t enough, there was that other word, visible where the envelope had ripped open.