Page 85 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

CHAPTER TWO

Amelia sat in the back seat of the car watching the icy, mountainous terrain go by. She hadn’t been sure her presence would be necessary, but after Diego’s last email, she was glad she’d decided to come.

She had not expected him to jump on her request that was not a request, but she’d hoped that maybe curiosity might lure him down to the castello without too much back-and-forth.

She should have known better. Nothing in the past two years had given her any indication that Diego was biddable any more than her father’s journal entries did.

Luckily she’d come armed with a few reasons why he should want to reinstate the Christmas celebrations at Castello di Natale, which obscured her real reason for trying to bring him back to, well, real life she supposed.

Perhaps it was none of her business that he’d turned himself into a hermit, but if her father were here, she was sure he would do the same.

And since she had nothing else left of her father, this seemed like a way to…

feel connected to him again. Something far more tangible to honor his legacy of caring for people than just work .

So, she would turn Diego Folliero into a good man. Or unearth the good man underneath whatever he’d turned himself into.

Whether it was overstepping or ridiculous or she was met with continued resistance, she would simply keep moving forward. Until she reached her goal. No matter what. Maybe Father was gone, but she’d never stop hoping to earn his approval.

The car pulled to a stop in front of a small cabin. It was well tended but incredibly rustic. She studied it in shock and concern. Surely… Surely this wasn’t right. She knew he’d been isolated, but this was beyond isolation.

It was smaller than the garden shed at the castello. There was only one window, and it was barely larger than her hand. Little puffs of smoke wisped up from the chimney, giving the impression that the cabin was warmed solely by…fire.

She met the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror. His expression was sheepish, a kind of acknowledgment that things were this…dire.

She had never in a million years imagined this. The man had internet but no evidence of running water.

Before she could decide what to do about it, the door opened and a man appeared. Not just any man. Diego. His form took up the entire expanse of the doorway. He was dressed in very plain clothes, but it did not take away from the sheer impact of him.

It was no surprise that he was handsome.

Perhaps she hadn’t had the presence of mind to catalog all the details of that kind of handsome at her father’s funeral, but she knew it existed.

She’d seen pictures of him. She’d heard all the stories of how women had thrown themselves at him before the plane crash.

She’d known it, understood it, but still hadn’t expected it to be quite so jolting in person. Because it was a jolt, like a shot of electricity along her nerve endings. Not at all pleasant, but interesting. Different.

Alarming, certainly. It shouldn’t feel like this, like a blast to the solar plexus, to simply look at him. Not when he wasn’t dressed as befitted his station or bank account. Not when he’d clearly been buzzing his own hair short. Not when…

Get yourself together, Amelia.

She inhaled deeply, let out a shaky exhale. She was simply having a physical reaction to the moment. She had gotten through the last two years with clear goals. Funny they all centered on Diego, a man she barely knew. A man she barely saw or truly communicated with.

Now here she was, dealing with him on a personal level, determined to find that good man her father had seen, and she wasn’t about to be flustered or lose sight of her goals because he was attractive .

“Take the car out of sight,” she told the driver. “I’ll text you when we’re ready to leave, and you can return.” She had the sneaking suspicion she would not be welcomed, so she needed to have all tools at her disposal.

She got out of the car, marched through the icy cold to the doorway. She fixed a pleasant smile on her face. “Mr. Folliero,” she greeted, making sure she sounded businesslike. “It’s good to see you again.”

His expression was stony and stoic. He looked her up and down in a quick dismissal. “I cannot say the same,” he said, his voice a low rasp, as if he were not used to speaking.

She blinked once at the unexpected rudeness, tried to keep her smile from faltering. “Well.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, even as she listened to the sound of the car’s engine disappear.

“I did not invite you,” he said to her stunned silence. “I do not intend to return to Castello di Natale ever , let alone this holiday season. So there is absolutely no reason for you to be here. Uninvited. Unwanted.”

Ouch. She could handle uninvited, but unwanted was a little pointed considering her life situation.

No. There wasn’t really anyone out there living who wanted her.

But her father had, and that’s why she was here.

“I apologize. I’m sure you’re very…” She trailed off, attempting to look beyond him into his cabin, or hermitage or whatever word befitted the sad little shack.

“Busy. In some fashion or another. But your presence is needed, and I’m afraid that cannot be disputed. ”

“ I dispute it.”

Amelia narrowly resisted rolling her eyes. In a way, she was used to his lack of manners, but she usually got to roll her eyes from behind a computer screen. Now she had to manage her face and her tone.

“We can stand here in the freezing cold, trying to enact some sort of power struggle,” she said, making sure her voice revealed only a reasonable suggestion, even though it clearly wasn’t.

“Or you can acknowledge we’re on the same team, have the same goals, and let me in so we can discuss how to move forward. ”

“I do not wish to move forward.”

She sighed, packing as much condescending disdain into the sound as she could. “Honestly. After two years, do you think I would simply arrive on your doorstep demanding your appearance for fun? No. You are needed.”

“And I am telling you, my assistant , that I am not and will not be.”

Stubborn did not do the man justice—but she’d come prepared for stubborn, hadn’t she? “I was under the impression that you cared for my father, as I know he cared deeply for you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Diego demanded.

“You would let his daughter freeze on your doorstep after all he did for you?”

There was a moment, maybe more than one, when she thought the guilt trip wouldn’t work. That having the car leave wouldn’t aid her any. That he’d step inside, slam the door and happily leave her to freeze, refusing to ever come down the mountain.

But then, on a disgusted noise, Diego moved out of the doorway and allowed her entry.

It wasn’t much warmer inside. The cabin was mostly just one big room with next to nothing in it. A fireplace, the fire in it small and crackling. She moved toward it now to find warmth. A table and chair stood in a far corner, with his computer and a view of a crude kitchen-like area.

“This is…actually shocking.” She had assumed his isolation was about just that. Keeping the grief and condolences away from him. Maybe she’d assumed he’d wanted to remove himself from things that reminded him of his family.

She had lived at the castello for ten years before the Follieros’ deaths and could count on one hand the times she’d seen Diego. His relationship with his family had been…complicated. Amelia hadn’t needed to know the specifics to know that.

The Follieros spoiled their children, but they didn’t…spend a lot of time with them. They did not seek to understand them. Amelia had always inferred that Diego stayed away because distance was better than arguments.

Which didn’t negate grief—she’d never thought it did.

But she hadn’t for one second thought he’d be living like…

a pauper. Like some kind of monk suffering for his religion.

She had simply thought, much like when her father was alive, that he stayed away from the complicated. But this was…something more than that.

She wrung her hands by the fire but didn’t feel the warmth. She felt chilled through.

She had sorely miscalculated a few things.

“I should have brought a therapist,” she muttered, then winced a little. She almost apologized for the unfeeling remark, but Diego was scowling very unwelcomingly at her. Impressive arms crossed over his chest, glaring at her like she was a vermin he’d like to eradicate.

She might have altered her plan, let him stay, acknowledging that a simple trip down the mountain would not solve his problems, but it was clear this man needed to find his way back to civilization again.

This couldn’t be a healthy expression of grief.

Hiding. Isolating. Living this…rustically when he didn’t need to at all.

Perhaps if it looked like he enjoyed it. If he smiled, if he seemed comfortable or at ease. But the only thing he reminded Amelia of was a throbbing, raw, open wound, prowling around a cage.

Her father would be appalled. And that was enough to push her into action.

“Well. This has gone on long enough. Far too long, in fact. If you have anything of import, I suggest you pack it. We need to get back down the mountain before the weather turns.”

“I do not know how much clearer I can be. I will not be leaving. I will never step foot in the castello again. These are simple, clear-cut terms. If you cannot take them on board, perhaps you should start looking for a new position.”

A trickle of fear moved down her spine, but she firmed herself against it. She didn’t want a new position. That’s why she’d ensured she was indispensable at this one. So he could not get rid of her. So she would be cut off and alone, just as she’d been when each of her parents died.

Diego and the castello were her last connections to her father, and she had lost all connections to her mother, so she would not lose these.