Page 178 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

After what he’d said about her home—something he’d kicked himself for afterwards—he was surprised she would invite him into it. Perhaps it was an olive branch, and if so he would be a fool not to take it.

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Thank you,’ she said in a gentler tone and hung up.

***

He was on the door step of her brownstone at precisely seven. He rang the doorbell and waited. Perhaps she would be willing to discuss moving into his penthouse after an amiable dinner. After all, his fiancée couldn’t be seen living apart from him, and after their display in the street the day before, and the ring she was now wearing, it would be obvious to everyone that she was engaged and to whom. His plans to save the company and family legacy from scandal were falling into place. He just needed Jasmine to be less stubborn about this one detail.

She answered the door wearing jeans and a knit sweater pushed up to her elbows, her feet bare and her hair down—just like when he’d first seen her. As much as Emilio respected the level of control she had, he couldn’t help rejoicing at the sight of that fun, free Jasmine peeking out just a little.

‘Exactly on time,’ she greeted him. ‘Come in.’

He stepped into the foyer and his words from the day before came back to him: some frilly townhouse.This was far from frilly. Black and white photographs hung on bright white walls above dark wood floors. They were lit softly from above, beckoning him inside. An invitation into the rest of the home.

‘Can I take your coat?’ she offered.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to her, taking a look around. Even the wall leading upstairs had photos on it; he first thought they were gallery prints, but on closer inspection they turned out to be pictures of Jasmine with what he assumed was her mother. The looks on their faces made him ache for his own.

‘I should probably tell you now,’ Jasmine said behind him, ‘My mother is joining us for dinner. She’s here to meet you.’

So it wasn’t an olive branch. So much for honesty and compromise. ‘What is this? Some sort of test?’

‘What? No.’

‘Then why would you withhold information?’ He was angered that she would do so. He was trying to fix his impulsive mistake by considering every angle and following a carefully calculated path. Now he’d been dropped into a situation Jasmine had deliberately ensured he was unprepared for.

‘You didn’t think I would get married without my mother there, without her knowing, did you?’

Had he factored Jasmine’s mother into all of this? He realised he hadn’t.

‘Would you?’ she questioned.

Would he? The answer was an immediate no. He’d spent so much time with her growing up, just the two of them. Even when he had moved to New York, he’d still gone back to Perlano as frequently as he could. Towards the end of her life, he had worked from the estate just so he could be close to her right to the end. He wouldn’t have hidden this marriage or his child from her.

‘No,’ he conceded. ‘Lead the way.’

Emilio followed Jasmine into a large open-plan lounge and dining area. There was so much art on the walls. There were huge windows that must have let in so much light during the day. A large fireplace with a small fire crackled within. The whole space was furnished in browns, whites and blacks. It was modern and warm. Not at allfrilly.

It felt like a home, and in that moment he craved that—somewhere warm and inviting to return to at the end of each day. His expensive penthouse was cold and stark in contrast—a showroom for an interior decorator. He’d hired the best, but that didn’t change the fact that it was just a glossy place to sleep and wait out the hours between work and emotionless visits to the club. How empty his life truly was.

‘You must be Emilio,’ a woman said, drawing attention away from his thoughts. She was considerably shorter than Jasmine, but he could see the similarity in their faces, in their hazel eyes. ‘I’m Angela.’

‘Buonasera, Angela,’ Emilio said, respectfully shaking her hand.

‘I look forward to getting to know you.’ There was a twinkle in her eye that made Emilio like her immediately.

‘And I, you.’

‘But I will reserve judgement until after dinner.’

‘That sounds fair. I better make a good impression.’ He caught Jasmine rolling her eyes and all annoyance from earlier evaporated. How could he have thought to exclude Jasmine’s mother? Perhaps Jasmine would have been more forthcoming about the visit if he hadn’t been so combative.

Another trait he had picked up as a child. It had been easier back then to snap at Enzo rather than have another memory of being ignored by his father. But he wasn’t nine years old any more. He had to do better.

He rolled up his sleeves. ‘Put me to work. What can I do?’

‘You?’ Jasmine laughed.

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