Page 146 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

‘You’re an easy person to be kind to,’ he said dryly.

Her eyes held his. ‘You’ve been so kind to me, Sanzio. First the Palazzo—now this…’ She took a breath. ‘Going to the trouble you have over me—this evening…’

Sanzio stilled. Had kindness anything to do with either? Marrying her had been in his best interests. He hadn’t done it out of kindness. He’d got out of it just what he’d told her from the off that he would. As for tonight—

A waiter was gliding up, proffering dessert menus to follow the delicious main course they’d just consumed. Sanzio was glad of the interruption, dispelling any questions he didn’t want to answer.

Not tonight.

No, definitely not tonight…

His eyes went back to the woman he’d married instead of Tonia, the woman who could not be more different from her, whose own, so-long-denied-and-hidden beauty he had now revealed. Revealed to her.

To him.

He let his gaze rest on her as Eleanora dropped her gaze to the menu card, allowing him the luxury of looking at her. Drinking her in, in all her newly revealed beauty.

He felt something quicken inside him. He silenced it. He had wanted Eleanora’s hidden beauty revealed for one very clear purpose.

He must allow no other.

Whatever the temptation.

* * *

Eleanora sank back into the car’s deep leather seat, Sanzio beside her, as the driver, behind his screen, set off from the Falcone.

‘So,’ Sanzio asked, turning to her, ‘did you enjoy the evening?’

Her smile was warm, and grateful. ‘How can you ask? After all my nerves, I did enjoy it!’

She had too. It had been nice to encounter Adrietta’s sister, and if she was invited to lunch, she would accept; Sanzio was right to urge it. He had been so kind all evening, as considerate as she had become used to, as easygoing and companionable. But only that.

Just because she was so dressed up—glammed up—made no difference between them.

Not to him.

That was what she had to stick to as well, and determinedly she had done just that all evening.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ he said. ‘Now we can socialise as much as we like! Especially,’ he added dryly, ‘once word gets out, via the Falcones, that we’re married. You know what a fishbowl Rome is!’

She frowned. ‘Do…do you mind? People knowing?’

‘It’s exactly what I want,’ he replied. Was there a bite in his voice? Then it was gone. ‘Anyway, with or without the Falcones, it would become known via your father. He’s more than keen for his creditors to know I’m his son-in-law. As well as the very-usefully-rich Marquis, of course.’ His cynicism was clear.

Eleanora’s frown deepened. ‘Is he trying to get money off you, my father?’ she asked.

Sanzio shrugged indifferently. ‘I give him some from time to time, though not nearly as much as he tries to cadge off me. After all,’ he allowed, ‘I did get the Palazzo for free.’ His expression changed, lightened. ‘And I got you, too,’ he said.

She looked troubled again. ‘A not-very-trophy trophy wife,’ she said.

Something flashed in his eyes. ‘A totally-trophy trophy wife!’ he shot back. A rasp sounded in his voice. ‘Didn’t this evening just prove that? Even if I were shallow enough to think that appearance was all that mattered—and believe me, Eleanora—’ there was vehemence in his voice as he spoke ‘—I am not that shallow—being seen out and about with you would pander to any man’s vanity!’

She slid her eyes away. ‘I know I look better—much, much better, but—’

She felt her hand being taken. His was warm and strong and his fingers pressed on hers.

‘No buts,’ he said. He spoke firmly, brooking, she realised, no argument. ‘I won’t permit buts,’ he said. He pressed her hand again to emphasise his words. His eyes were holding hers in the intermittent light from the street and traffic. ‘What you look,’ he said, enunciating each word, ‘is beautiful. Beautiful in your way—not Tonia’s!’ He drew a breath, and she was consumingly conscious of his hand holding hers, the warmth of it…the possession of it.