Page 184 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

‘Yes, well, it’s not as if they can call on my mother,’ Addie said with a side eye. ‘She refuses to even tell anyone she has a grandchild.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Not good for her image.’

Vic’s top lip curled, but he didn’t respond, however, Addie felt a strange alliance with him. A sense that he understood more about her background than most people, making her feel less alone and isolated. Was it because he was close to Marcus and knew how difficult some aspects of their childhood had been? Or was it because Vic was an astute businessman who knew the foibles of self-obsessed and vain people? Or a bit of both?

The flight attendant came out from the front section of the jet to serve them drinks and a light supper. Addie was glad of the distraction from where her thoughts were taking her. She declined the offer of champagne, mentally cringing at how she had overindulged at her brother’s wedding. She sipped at some orange juice and turned down the delicious looking food on the tray. The attendant slipped out of sight again.

‘Not hungry?’ Vic asked, reaching for his coffee cup.

‘Not at this time of night. It’s way past my bedtime.’ Eek. Why had she mentioned anything to do with bed?

‘There’s a bed down the back.’ Vic nodded towards the area behind her. ‘Why don’t you have a nap before we arrive? We still have to get to Lake Como, so it’ll be a late night.’

She tried but failed to suppress a yawn. ‘No, it’s okay. It’ll only make me feel worse if I nap now.’ She could only imagine how dishevelled she would look waking up from a sleep, even if it was on a private jet bed. Besides, the thought of Vic watching her while she slept was a little disconcerting. What if she snored? She bet none of his glamourous dateseversnored. ‘Will we drive to Lake Como straightaway?’

‘Yes, I have a driver organised to take us as soon as we clear customs.’

She took another sip of her orange juice, acutely aware of Vic’s every movement. She watched as he leaned forward to put his coffee cup on the table between them. He leaned back to reach for the papers he’d brought with him. If he was tired, he certainly wasn’t showing it. His face, while unshaven, did not have lines of exhaustion and his eyes were clear and unshadowed. Her eyes were gritty, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to sit upright. Oh, how she longed to lie flat and close her eyes for just a moment or two…

She blinked and sat up straighter in the luxurious leather seat. ‘I guess you’re pretty used to late nights.’

He gave a glinting crooked smile that sent a dart to her heart. ‘Because I’m a playboy as you call it or because I run a global chain of hotels?’

‘Both, I guess.’

He leaned back, his smile still causing havoc with her heart rhythm. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work.’

‘Or hard play, as rumour has it.’ She gave herself a mental slap as soon as the words left her mouth. She had no business speculating on his private life, although it had to be said, his private life was reported publicly more times than not. But guess that’s what happens to you when you’re a super wealthy and spectacularly handsome man. Everyone wants to know what you’re doing and with whom you are doing it.

His gaze held hers in a lock that sent a hot shiver rolling down her spine like a current of electricity. ‘I definitely play hard.’

She disguised a gulp. She could only imagine how hard. And she was not talking hard drinking or partying because she knew from her brother—and she had witnessed it herself on the three occasions she had met him—that Vic never overindulged in alcohol. ‘I can only imagine…’ Her hot cheeks were betraying her yet again, but she had no control over that. ‘My life must seem terribly boring compared to yours.’

Vic leaned forward again, this time to pick up a glass of water. He leaned back, holding the glass without bringing it to his mouth, his gaze unwavering on hers. ‘Tell me about your life. What do you do in your spare time?’

Okay, so this was going to be embarrassing. ‘I knit.’

One of his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. ‘Knit? Like sweaters? Scarves?’

‘Coats. Dog coats.’ She put her half-finished orange juice on the table and sat back. ‘I volunteer at a rescue shelter. Some breeds of dogs, particularly the smaller short-haired ones, feel the cold.’

‘That’s a very noble thing to do.’

She studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or mocking her behind the unreadable screen of his gaze. ‘It sounds pretty tame compared to what you get up to in your spare time, but I find it fulfilling.’

‘Who taught you to knit? Not your mother, I’m guessing.’

She couldn’t hold back a wry laugh. ‘No, definitely not my mother. One of the senior vets taught me before she retired a couple of years ago. I find it quite meditative, actually.’

‘What made you decide to become a vet nurse?’

‘I love animals.’

‘More than people?’

‘More than some people.’

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