Page 147 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

For all her reminding herself that the reasons for their marriage had never been personal, she could feel her own breathing quicken at his words. Suddenly, the car seemed very small—Sanzio very close. His eyes were still holding hers.

‘And your way, Eleanora, is, I promise you, a very, very pleasing way.’ He paused, his eyes searching hers. ‘Don’t you believe me?’ There was something different in his voice now, his eyes, the way he was looking at her, something that made her conscious of the beating of her heart. The suddenly hectic beating…

Her eyes were wide, searching his now. ‘I want to believe you.’ Her voice was only a whisper, her heartbeat faster.

Something had changed, out of nowhere, something in the way he was looking at her now, something that was quickening her pulse, and she must not let it. Must not…

But his dark eyes were holding hers, and in the confines of the car, cocooned as they made their way down into the city, she could catch the faint trace of his aftershave, sense the nearness of his powerful body to hers, feel the grip of his hand on hers. Feel the warmth of his touch.

Overwhelming her.

‘I don’t know.’ His features, so familiar, were etched against the darkness surrounding them. She realised her pulse had quickened yet more, heart racing suddenly. He was so close to her. So very close…

There was no breath in her lungs. Not a single breath.

She saw his lashes sweep down over his eyes as he leaned towards her.

‘Then believe this,’ he said.

And kissed her.

* * *

Her mouth was velvet, her lips trembling beneath his. For an endless, timeless moment he let his mouth stay on hers, tasting her sweetness, sensation drumming through him, muscles tensing throughout his body to hold himself where he was. To not deepen the kiss. Not let his mouth feast on hers.

Not let the urge knifing through him overpower him.

With force of will, he lifted his head away. Released her hand.

Kissing her was not the reason I wanted her to be beautiful.

That was what he had to remember. And stick to. Despite the sudden pounding of his heart.

But it was going to be hard. Harder, as that mistaken kiss had just proved to him, than he’d realised it was going to be. His glance went to her as he straightened. He saw her move away slightly, fold her hand over the beautiful bejewelled Fabian original which went so perfectly with the perfect dress for her this evening that the commessa had shown him. All part of his plan to show the woman he’d married that she had a transcendent beauty of her own. A beauty that would serve his purpose perfectly.

A purpose he’d planned all along.

Which had nothing, nothing to do with kissing her.

He let his eyes rest on her. She was looking out of the car window, and he thought, from her averted profile, in the dim light, that she was blinking rapidly, that her fingers had tensed over the fabric of her clutch gripped in her lap.

He cursed himself.

But the damage had been done.

Especially to himself. He could feel the blood coursing in his veins and knew why. Knew what it meant. He tamped it down, breathing deeply. The journey back to his apartment block seemed to take forever. They did not speak, nor when he finally stood beside her in the elevator whisking them up to the penthouse floor.

She had tensed completely, and he cursed himself yet again. He wanted to apologise, but no words came. It was taking an effort to keep control of himself. The control he must exert.

In the entrance hall of his apartment, she turned.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice strained and avoiding meeting his eyes, ‘for a lovely evening. I’m very tired, I think I’ll just go straight to bed.’

She made to turn away, head to her bedroom.

Sanzio caught her arm. ‘Eleanora—’ his voice was low ‘—I’m sorry.’

He broke off, dropped his hand away.