Page 138 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

Antonio was becoming used to the way that shock widened Ivy’s eyes enough to see even more of the bright blue irises. Now was not the time to notice the way that shards of gold flecked the blue, or the way that her skin flushed when she was surprised.

He cursed again, loudly. Earning himself another reprimand from Agata.

‘But we only saw the judge this morning,’ Ivy said, slowly coming down the stairs, holding onto the banister for support.

‘I know.’

Heaskedhis housekeeper to take Ivy’s bag and unpack it in her room and gestured for Ivy to follow him. He made his way down the long corridor that split the ground floor down the middle, at the end of which was his favourite room in the whole villa.

He entered the kitchen, walking straight to the wine fridge, and retrieved a decent pale yellow Soave and grabbed two glasses. The Valpolicella would have to wait because Ivy looked as if it might knock her out. Thankful that she wasn’t peppering him with a thousand questions like Maria would have, or whipping her emotions into a silent tornado, like his mother, he pushed open the back door and emerged into the oasis of the large pergola-covered patio, where he took a single moment to inhale the scents of home—bougainvillea, citrus and wild fennel—before nudging a chair out from the table for her with his foot and placing the glasses down.

‘Did Simon find out what the assessments will entail?’ she asked as she sat down. ‘What is the assessor going to expect us to know?’

‘I don’t know. So, this is what we’re going to do,’ he explained to Ivy as he poured them each a glass and handed one to her. ‘We’re going to spend the next hour and forty minutes getting to know as much about each other as possible.’

Ivy’s eyes were still huge. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘Is there another option?’

‘Food poisoning?’ she offered, clearly only half joking.

And for a second he considered it, before dismissing it. ‘From my private jet?’

‘Fair enough. Okay. Just give me…’ She held up her finger, brought the glass to her mouth and downed the entire contents.

The horror on his face must have shown.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said genuinely. ‘I’m a really terrible liar.’

‘And you tell me this now?’ he demanded. ‘Afterextracting ninety thousand pounds from me?’

She winced. ‘I thought I’d have more time to prepare. But if I’m drunk, then it will just look like I’m drunk. Isn’t that better than being caught out for lying?’

He willed his mouth not to drop at her logic. And then poured her another glass. ‘We’ll do both,’ he decided.

‘If it’s any consolation, I’m not much of a drinker, so it really shouldn’t take long. Or waste too much of your alcohol,’ she explained.

‘It’s not,’ he replied. ‘A consolation,’ he clarified when she appeared confused by his response.

She shrugged apologetically and took another worryingly large mouthful.

‘Okay,’ he said, taking the glass from her. ‘Slow down. We want drunk, not throwing up.’

He leaned back in the seat opposite her and tried to get his nerves under control. What was wrong with him? He didn’t get flustered like this. It was her. Ivy. In his house. No one came to his house. Not even his mother, or his cousin.

He just needed to focus. That was all.

‘We need to make it look like we did marry for love, but that it didn’t work out. And that now our lives are so very different it would be untenable to continue with the marriage.’

‘Right.’ She nodded. ‘So, it doesn’t matter that we haven’t been living together?’

‘No,’ Antonio said.

‘But did we ever?’

‘How much did you drink?’ he asked her, suddenly worried.

‘No, I mean, we’re going to have to lie about our…history, right?’

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