Page 91 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

Velvety brown eyes that had once looked at him with approval, laughter, even adoration, regarded him as if he were a rat that scuttled out of a sewer. A butcher’s knife was softer than her glare. He almost felt the slice of a honed blade flaying his skin as she surveyed him.

He was irate, furious with both himself and her, still not quite believing the lengths he’d gone to. Yet beneath the anger and disbelief was a spreading glow of satisfaction. Because Stella was here with him.

She’d tapped into a vein of primal instinct he hadn’t known he possessed.

Gio had strode down the aisle of the cathedral and the sight of her, simpering next to her handsome groom, had provoked an almost murderous rage.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ She snapped the words as if biting off chunks of his flesh. ‘No, don’t bother answering. I already know. You’re trying to cause as much trouble and humiliation as possible for me and my family. You really are a piece of work, aren’t you, Signor Valenti?’

No one had ever addressed him with such dripping disdain. As ifhe’dbeen the one playing games.

The injustice almost choked him. ‘We need to talk.’

Her answer was a peal of laughter that went on and on, ending in a discordant sound that betrayed distress and made the hairs on his nape stand on end. Gio saw her chin wobble before she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Reflexively he reached for her, only to have her slap his hand away. ‘Don’ttouch me. Don’t ever touch me again.’

‘You’ve changed your tune,cara. Time was you couldn’t get enough of my touch.’

It was a cheap shot but it was out before he’d even thought about it. Her passion had been utterly convincing, as if she’d been swept away by her need for him. Even knowing who she was, he’d been drawn into believing she couldn’t really be Barbieri’s spy.

Gio breathed deeply, summoning control, glancing at the privacy screen that cut them off from the driver.

‘You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?’ He hid a wince at the icy contempt frosting each word. ‘But tell me this—how did you know?’

She held herself as stiffly as a mannequin, as if the flesh and blood woman he’d held in his arms had disappeared.

‘About the wedding?’ He shrugged, tight muscles screaming with tension. ‘It was hardly a secret. You invited everybody who’s anybody. Everymarcheseandprincipessa. Every successful politician and billionaire.’

Stella’s lip curled. ‘Don’t tell me. You were upset you weren’t invited?’

Gio shook his head, still reeling at how close he’d come to arriving in Sicily too late.

When Stella left him he’d ordered a further strengthening of business security, deeper than the audit he’d instigated the day he’d discovered her staying in his hotel. He’d also ordered daily status reports on her movements, but cancelled them several weeks later.

He found he didn’t want regular updates on what she was doing in Sicily. Of how she’d dined with Eduardo Morosi. Of how she’d smiled up at him in the photo Gio had been sent. The pair had been leaving an upmarket restaurant, leaning together as if enjoying a tender moment.

Yet yesterday, when Gio’s PA had casually mentioned today’s grand wedding, Gio had acted instantly. He’d been on a remote Malaysian island, visiting what would hopefully become a small, incredibly exclusive resort in his portfolio. Within an hour he’d been on a seaplane heading for Kuala Lumpur. Then an overnight flight to Italy, barely making it here in time.

If he’d been a few minutes later…

Conflicting emotions tore at him. Shock at his actions but relief too. And above all, rage.

‘A wedding like that takes months, years to plan. This was no spur-of-the-moment event.’

It was his turn to scorch her with his contempt. But she didn’t shrink away, merely pushed her shoulders back and stared at him from under arched eyebrows, as if daring him to continue.

‘So what was I, Stella? A last fling? A little excitement before settling down with your stuffed shirt husband? Or an attempt to ingratiate yourself with your father, slipping into his enemy’s bed and hoping to find me easy prey?’

Nowhe saw a reaction. Those brown eyes turned huge in a face that abruptly paled but for two high spots of colour on her cheeks. The flowers sewn on her veil and dress trembled. The pulse at her throat throbbed and her clenched hands were white knuckled.

‘You’re completely despicable!’

Gio permitted himself a smile, as if he were amused rather than strung out, grappling to master this situation and his unruly urges. ‘You said that when we got in the car. Can’t you do better?’

It worked. That terrible, haunted look on her face disappeared. Though he knew her expression was probably fabricated, he hated seeing it, as if his words had mortally wounded her.

She shook her head. ‘You don’t like repetition? Bad luck. I still want to know how you knew.’