Page 114 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

Diaz paused a moment to compose himself.

Rose’s body language told him she knew he was there. It was in her stillness.

Sickness lay heavily in his stomach. Exhaustion soaked his brain.

He hadn’t slept. Too much history being replayed crowding his head until he’d thrown on a pair of jeans without thought and staggered out of his room to find her.

He knew what he had to do.

Without any acknowledgment of his presence, she lifted her legs out of the pool and twisted her body around. Pressing a hand to the tiled flooring for support, she got gracefully to her feet.

One look at her face was enough to know she’d had as little sleep as he’d had.

‘We have coffee coming,’ he told her quietly.

She nodded. There was defeat in the gesture. Defeat, too, in the shadows of her eyes.

A member of staff appeared with a tray of coffee and pastries for them. With quiet efficiency, she laid it on the poolside table for them, then disappeared.

They settled themselves at the table in silence. Diaz poured the coffee. He had to control the tremor in his hand. Control, too, the tightening of his throat to speak.

‘Rosaria brought the drugs she overdosed on, didn’t she.’ It was a statement of fact, not a question.

Bloodshot blue eyes locked briefly on his. There was a hint of deserved accusation in them.

Rose had always denied being the one to buy them. He’d always refused to believe it.

He nodded slowly then quietly said, ‘After you came into our lives, she started shortening her name to yours. I asked her why once, and she said it was because it was prettier than her name.’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘I told her she was being ridiculous to want anything of yours but she was enthralled by you. I never understood it. I would watch the two of you and ask myself what she saw in a skinny child a year younger than she was, who had zero decorum and ran wild about the place barefoot.’

He let his stare fall to Rose’s bare feet. She’d never lost her preference to be free from footwear.

His chest tightened at how pretty her feet were.

Breathing hard, he added a spoonful of sugar to his coffee. Usually he drank it black but that early morning he needed all the sweetness he could get.

‘You thought I was feral,’ she stated expressionlessly.

He turned his gaze back to her.

Her features were tight but her eyes…those expressive big blue eyes brimmed with hurt.

His nausea strengthened.

He’d caused that hurt.

The magnitude of everything he’d put her through had finally hit home to him. Everything he’d done to her. Everything he was continuing to do to her.

He would never forgive himself for any of it.

She blinked and looked away from him.

‘I did think that,’ he admitted, his voice as heavy as his heart. ‘I hadn’t met anyone like you before. I went to an exclusive private school until I was old enough to be sent off to an exclusive English boarding school. I mixed with children from the same kind of monied, privileged background. It was the same for Rosaria. Meeting you was like meeting a creature from another planet. You were just so…free, and unfiltered. I was as fascinated by you as Rosaria was.’

Her voice rose barely above a whisper. ‘You hated me on sight.’

He clasped his coffee cup tightly. ‘No, I hated how my sister fell in love with you on sight. And I hated that my grandmother had fallen in love with you. You were an interloper in the only place I’d ever been able to call a real home and stealing the affection of the only two people in the world who truly loved me.’

Her stare caught his and she tightened the sash of her robe.

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