Page 158 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

Amelia shrugged. “I cannot pretend to know Mrs. Moretti’s inner thoughts, but the impression I always got is that I had experience losing a parent, that I should have known how to deal and grieve my father’s death. That I had a job to do, regardless of grief. You…did not.”

“But…” Diego could only stare at Amelia, and the casual way she’d delivered this patently unfair information. She too had been left an orphan, experience or not, and she was younger. She might have secured a well-paying position, but she wasn’t wealthy like he was. Perhaps he’d lost more people in one fell swoop, but that did not make her pain somehow less worthy of support than his own.

This was a very strange realization, and one he could not settle into because Mrs. Moretti had reappeared, hefting a large box.

“Thesignoraalways had little photo albums made to send out to guests, but these were for her and her alone.” She set the box on the desk. “Not just of the balls but of every holiday season she spent in the castello. There are some notes here and there as well. Anything you could want to recreate the ball just as she did it.” She smiled at Diego.

Diego could not force himself to smile back. Both because of the heft of what was in the box and the fact Mrs. Moretti had purposefully kept this from Amelia. And had no compunction about making that known now.

Still, he found himself frozen and speechless, not wanting what was in that box, not wanting to wade into what issues he might have left for Amelia without ever thinking it through.

She’d never complained. Not once.

“We’ll take these back to Diego’s rooms so he can go through them at his own pace,” Amelia said, stepping forward. She grabbed the box.

This earned her a disapproving scowl, but Mrs. Moretti did notsayanything or try to stop her, so Diego did not. Not yet. There was too much to sort through.

“Thank you, Mrs. Moretti. You’ve been beyond helpful, as usual.” Amelia said this with a warmth that was hard to disbelieve. Yet surely… Surely she felt bitter?

She didn’t act it though. She exited the office, Diego trailing after her—before it dawned on him that the box was heavy, and she was struggling a bit to carry it.

He scooped it out of her grasp. She made a little sound of protest but didn’tactuallyprotest.

“We needn’t go to my rooms,” he announced, marching in front of her. “Let us look through this nonsense in your office. That way you can use whatever you wish.”

“We can do that if you want,” she said in that diplomatic way that hid whatever she really felt. “But you can also take some time. Go through this with some privacy. I can give you some space, Diego.”

He should want that. To be alone and isolated while he tortured himself with a glimpse into the past, into his mother. He should accept that as yet another punishment.

He stalked into her office, let the box fall onto her desk. “No,” he said firmly. “You will stay. We will do this together.”

CHAPTER TEN

Ameliafeltlikeshe was walking on very thin ice. She was shocked he’d asked her to stay—okay, demanded her to stay—and be a part of this.

If she thought he was doing it because she would offer comfort, she would warmly agree and jump right in, but he was too big on punishing himself. He hadn’t flipped any switches that quickly. Her presence felt more like…an exercise in masochism? Making her watch his pain.

She watched him stare at the box. She didn’t think he realized he was breathing a little heavily. That he was looking at the box like it might come to life and bite.

So maybe it wasn’t punishment. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he seemed so…lost. He hadn’t known what to say to Mrs. Moretti. He hadn’t known what to say toher.

So now he was pretending to know what to do by insisting this be just business. Just Christmas-ball prep. She could tell him she saw right through him. Gamble that her intuition was correct.

She decided against it, though. There was no reason to point it out to him. He’d just double down on pretending it was business and meant nothing.

So she walked over to stand next to him and said nothing as he pulled the box top off with perhaps more force than necessary. He reached in with no finesse and jerked out a large, overstuffed album that must have been on top. His mouth twisted in something like disgust.

“Do you recognize it?” she asked him gently.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Then let’s sit.” She nudged him toward the chair he’d pulled up to her desk earlier, then pulled hers around to this side. He put the book down on the desk in front of them and flipped open the cover without sitting down.

She wanted to admonish him to be more careful, as they didn’t know what they were dealing with or how old and delicate what was inside would be, but she bit her tongue.

The first page was a snapshot of two young people. It took Amelia a few moments to place them. “Your parents.” They were in casual clothes in front of a fancy-looking chalet.

“Yes.” He sounded winded, and he finally lowered himself into his chair like his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore. Amelia took a seat as well, moving her gaze from the picture to his face.