Page 176 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

‘Tonia? What brings you here?’ She sought to keep her voice neutral, though it was the last thing she was feeling.

‘I wanted to show Edouard our dear old ancestral palazzo!’ Tonia replied airily. ‘See what Sanzio’s done to it.’ She made a moue. ‘Don’t tell me you aren’t pleased to see us?’ she cooed, directing her question only at Sanzio.

He stepped forward, holding out his hand to Edouard.

‘Welcome to the Palazzo Verano.’ His voice was more formal than warm, but it was a civil gesture all the same.

As they shook hands, Tonia sashayed up to Sanzio. She was wearing a vermilion dress, low-cut and clinging to her voluptuous body, her face in full make-up and her designer sunglasses pushing back her lush raven locks. Dressed to kill.

To taunt.

To tempt…

Eleanora felt her stomach knot. Coming on top of that awful, agonising exchange with Sanzio just now that she had waded into, she was going to have to deal with Tonia’s descent on them. Her question echoed again—What is she here for? One thing was for sure; it wasn’t to show Edouard ‘our dear old ancestral palazzo’ in which she had never shown the slightest interest.

So why? What was she after? Her insides churned.

Tonia was speaking again, but, again, not to her—to Sanzio.

‘Aren’t you going to welcome me too?’ Tonia purred now, smiling roguishly at Sanzio. She didn’t wait for an answer, only bestowed a too-affectionate kiss on his cheek.

‘For old times’ sake,’ she murmured coquettishly. Then she turned to sweep her husband and her sister into her gaze. ‘Now, absolutely no need for either of you to be jealous! Sanzio and I go way back!’ She focused her attention on Eleanora, and Eleanora could see the venomous glint in her sister’s lustrous eyes. A taunt—a very obvious taunt.

Then her expression changed. ‘Oh, do your hostess thing, baby sister! Invite us to stay for lunch—then afterwards darling Sanzio can show off the Palazzo to Edouard and me.’

Eleanora’s voice was stiff as she answered. ‘It will only be quiche and salad,’ she replied.

‘Well, that will have to do!’ Tonia returned impatiently. ‘But let’s improve it with a drink at least.’ She turned her attention back to Sanzio. ‘How about my favourite cocktail, Sanzio darling? You haven’t forgotten, I’m sure!’

For a split second Sanzio didn’t reply. Eleanora’s eyes went to him. Couldn’t he find some way of packing off her wretched sister, keeping this totally unwelcome visit as brief as civility to the hapless Edouard allowed? But as she looked at him his closed expression suddenly changed. Like a switch being thrown. A decision made—

‘How could I possibly forget anything about you, Tonia?’ he murmured.

His voice was bland, yet something about it was off.

Eleanora’s throat tightened.

* * *

Sanzio brought out the drinks to the terrace—beer for himself, a glass of white wine for the Marquis and Eleanora, and for Tonia her familiar vodka-based cocktail. His mind was racing.

What Eleanora had announced by the pool was ringing in his ears still, how could it not, but now something else was forming. Something Tonia had just said to him…

That there was no need for her husband or her sister to be jealous…

It hung there in his head as Tonia seized her cocktail, took a generous mouthful.

‘Mm, Sanzio, darling, just the way I like it. Strong and potent—the way I like my men!’ She batted her heavily mascaraed eyelashes at him lingeringly as she lifted her glass. ‘To old times,’ she toasted reminiscently, keeping her gaze still lingering on him.

Sanzio took a mouthful of his beer. Tonia’s intentions were transparently obvious, whatever her disclaimer of any need for jealousy. Jealous was exactly what she wanted Eleanora to feel.

And me—what does she want me to feel?

That was transparently obvious too. And, he knew cynically, entirely predictable. It had been entirely predictable ever since he’d forced her to see her scorned sister looking beautiful. The only question was how to play his response.

And why—

His eyes flickered to Eleanora. She was sitting ramrod straight across from Tonia, Sanzio at the head of the table, Edouard the other end. His thoughts still raced, what Eleanora had said to him by the pool still audible in his head. Melding with his question to himself—how to respond to Tonia’s all too obvious intentions.