Page 149 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

Chapter Seven

Breakfast, taken in the formidably high-tech kitchen, was…awkward. How could it be anything else? Eleanora wondered. But she also knew she must do her best. As Sanzio was also so obviously doing. Both of them acknowledging that the only way to deal with what had happened last night on the car journey back to the apartment—what never should have happened!—was to behave as if it hadn’t. To ignore it. Blank it. Forget it.

Sanzio, clearly, was only too keen to do so, asking her about her forthcoming appointment at the auction house that morning in nothing other than his usual friendly tone.

‘They’ve said they’ll check the catalogues to see what got sold, and to whom, and find out if the new owners would sell them back,’ she told him. ‘They’ll talk me through it this morning.’

‘Excellent.’ He nodded and, pausing a moment, glanced across the breakfast bar. ‘You look good,’ he said. There was nothing in his voice, or the way he was looking at her, that was different from how he usually spoke to her, but she flushed slightly all the same. Conscious of needing to make an appropriate impression at the auction house, she’d done her best, pinning her hair less starkly, using a little of the huge vanity-case-full of make-up and skin treatments that Renata had left for her, as well as dressing in the dark blue plissé skirt and blouse which she had so wrongly imagined had been the sole item purchased yesterday, along with the court shoes to go with it.

‘Thank you,’ she said, because she didn’t know what else to say.

He paused a moment. ‘Shall we eat in tonight? After all that gourmet dining last night!’

Her expression lightened. Eating in meant she could stick to her normal appearance. The safe one… The one that could never give her impossible ideas that she was someone who could ever attract a man like Sanzio.

‘Oh, yes, please,’ she made herself reply smilingly. ‘I can pick up some supermarket shopping while I’m out. Is there anything you’d particularly like?’

‘Pasta?’

‘Are you sure? I could run to something more ambitious.’

‘Keep it simple. Pasta is fine.’

‘OK,’ she said, and discussed sauces with him. It was friendly, it was familiar, the easy way between them that had developed at the Palazzo. It was the way they needed to be. Resolve filled her. She had a good working relationship with Sanzio, a common purpose. She must not jeopardise it with stupid, pathetic yearnings for what could not be.

For what Sanzio had made so very, very clear he did not want to be…

* * *

‘So, how did your day go?’ Sanzio put to Eleanora as they made a start on their pasta that evening, eating, for ease and convenience, at the breakfast bar. Eleanora had excelled herself again with the sauce and had done some baking as well—tasty sweet pastries for dessert. She’d also set dough rising for fresh bread in the morning. Home comforts indeed—

I’ll miss them when we go our separate ways—

Was that all he would miss? He set the question aside. It was inappropriate. Besides, there was no reason why he and Eleanora would not remain on friendly terms. Why not?

We get on well.

The same simple, but true, thought that had struck him a while back at the Palazzo came again. They did get on well. It was easy, friendly, companionable.

Which was all the more reason for not jeopardising what they had, although he was having to exert ruthless self-control. His eyes went to her. She’d changed back into her usual casual clothes, removing her make-up, her hair pinned back tight again. But even so—

Nothing can detract from the beauty she possesses. The beauty that bloomed so breathtakingly last night!

He tamped down his thoughts. They had no place here—he could not allow them.

Eleanora was telling him about her visit to the auction house and then the art dealer, and he was glad to focus on it. She’d made progress and set enquiries in motion, gathering useful initial information. It was a good start, and he said as much.

Then he changed the subject. ‘Did Francesca Falcone get hold of you today? Nic phoned me for your phone number—she was asking for it. Oh, and by the way—’ he kept his voice casual ‘—they’ve invited us to dinner the day after tomorrow. Just a small gathering. I’ve accepted—are you OK with that?’

Uncertainty flickered in her face. ‘OK,’ she said, though her voice was guarded. ‘Francesca did phone—I’m lunching with her and Adrietta tomorrow.’

Sanzio smiled. ‘Good. Then, afterwards, I can take you shopping again. You’ll need something for dinner with the Falcones.’

She demurred immediately. ‘Oh, I can wear the amber dress again—’ she started.

Sanzio adopted an expression of exaggerated stupefaction. ‘Wear the same dress they’ve already seen you in? Are you mad? The very idea of it!’

She laughed, and he was glad. Glad, too, when they settled down for coffee on the sofa, to present her with a gilt-edged card he’d placed on the coffee tray. She looked at it questioningly.