Page 141 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

They turned, unknowingly in unison, to watch the approach of a grey-clad no-nonsense woman in her late fifties. Steel-grey hair pulled back in a bun that appeared more brutal than efficient.

Ivy’s heart sank. The woman immediately reminded her of Mrs Tenby and Judge Carmondy combined. There was no way that they’d be able to convince her of anything. She reached for Antonio’s arm, trying to call his attention to her, wanting to warn him, because she was absolutely convinced that this—perhaps for the first time in his life—was a woman he wouldn’t be able to charm. But he shook her off gently and went to greet the woman with a smile.

‘Please forgive my lawyer, he was rude enough not to share your name with me,’ Antonio explained with his hand outstretched.

The assessor stared at it for a beat longer than necessary—just enough to try and put a man like Antonio Gallo in his place—before taking it.

Ivy swallowed. This was going to be a total disaster.

This was going to be fine, Antonio told himself. All they had to do was get this woman on side, and that was something he excelled at.

He turned to the assessor as Ivy came to stand beside him.

‘Would you like something to drink, Mrs—?’

‘It’s Ms Quell,’ she informed him curtly.

Antonio swallowed his dislike of her tone. ‘A drink, Ms Quell?’

‘No. I would prefer to get this first assessment done as soon as possible, thank you.’

He nodded to Agata who—despite what most people thought—could speak fluent English when she wanted to and had practically done all his childhood homework with him. She withdrew from the room, leaving the three of them alone. He gestured for Ms Quell to take a seat and she took the middle of the sofa, retrieving an obscene amount of paperwork from her deceptively sized handbag. Ivy was forced to assume the place next to him on the opposite sofa.

‘So, have you—?’ he began.

‘Mr Gallo, I assure you this will go much quicker if you let me take the lead,’ Ms Quell interrupted.

‘Absolutely,’ he said, raising his hands in surrender.

He leaned back, his arm draped across the back of the sofa, perilously close to the thin column of Ivy’s neck. But to remove his arm would be a display of discomfort and this woman, he thought, eyeing Ms Quell, was a shark. If she hadn’t irritated him so much, he’d be offering her a job.

‘Mr and Mrs Gallo. His Honour Judge Carmondy has ordered there to be three assessment interviews to take place over the next two weeks. These assessments will be in the form of three interviews—of which this is one—and one additional written assessment in the form of a questionnaire to be completed ahead of the next court date.

‘The intention of these sessions is to verify that you have both given this marriage due and proper consideration before a divorce can be granted. Furthermore, as these sessions are court-appointed, they, and I, should be treated with all due respect. Do you both understand?’

‘Yes,’ they answered in unison.

‘Mrs Gallo,’ she said, turning to Ivy without any further delay.

Ivy blinked, eyes wider than necessary, and sat up straight.

‘Why don’t you tell me how you two met?’

‘I was working in Affogato, a café in central London, when M… Antonio was in the country on business,’ she began. Antonio winced at the near slip that would have—he was ninety percent sure—been ‘Mr Gallo’, and the least likely thing a wife would call her husband. She was going to ruin it.

‘I couldn’t take my eyes off her,’ he said, intervening in the car crash that was about to happen. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said without having to lie.

Ms Quell acknowledged this with a tilt of her head.

‘And beyond that, what most drew you to Mrs Gallo?’ Ms Quell asked.

His mind blanked. Impossible. It had never before happened, but there was nothing.

‘He’s too shy to say,’ Ivy confided, leaning towards Ms Quell conspiratorially. ‘But I won him over with my espresso,’ she teased. ‘Impossible for a mere Englishwoman to be capable of matching the best coffee in the world.Impossible,’ she said with a rather worryingly accurate mimicry of him.

For a moment he thought Ms Quell might actually smile.

‘And you? What drew you to your husband?’

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