Page 155 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
And when she thought of the boy her father had worried about, she thought about the man who’d sequestered himself on an isolated mountain thinking he was somehow…punishing himself.
Self-destructive, yes. But it wasn’t the guilt she thought that was causing it. It was the grief. Grief and pain that were clear as day in his dark eyes.
Dark eyes that drank her in like she was something delicious. He’d caged her against that counter, and a selfish man, at least to Amelia’s way of thinking, would have taken whatever he wanted, damn the consequences.
But he had not pushed her, had not initiated the taste. She had, and he had let her. Maybe he had kissed her back, but she knew something more lurked under the surface. He’d let her set the tone.
What would it be like if he broke through said surface and took what he so clearly wanted?
And so, on went the thought cycle, always coming back towhat if, and the incessant, needy throb of her body that hadn’t stopped since he’d loomed over her.
She was well aware there were ways she could handle the edgy thwarted desire herself. But she couldn’t bring herself to do so as long ashewas there, when she might have to face him knowing why she’d done it.
Had he handled his own thwarted desire, down the hall in his bedroom?
Which brought images of that first morning, and his naked body. Would he have taken the long, hard length of himself in his own hand and—
She rolled over and gave a frustrated scream into her pillow.
She had gone into this knowing she couldn’tplananything. People were unpredictable, and she hadn’t known how Diego would respond or react to anything—except knowing he’d be reticent to return to normal life, to let his guilt go.
She’d known he’d be perhaps even more than reticent to see himself as a good man, as her father had so genuinely wished for him.
But she had not, under any realm of possibility, counted on finding this sort of all-encompassing attraction she’d only previously read about. Never experienced. She had not expected it to swamp her, distract her and otherwise make everything she’d set out to do seem as though it was on a shaky foundation.
She supposed why it was so frustrating was that she didn’t quite know how to handle the attraction side of things, no matter how many different tactics she tried. Throwing herself into it hadn’t gone well—he’d left her feeling needy and alone. Keeping herself apart didn’t do much either—she was still obsessing over him.
So what was the answer?
She didn’t know, and that was obnoxious. She was a careful, determined person. She made plans and accomplished them. She didn’t wander around not knowing what to do. Her parents had both raised her with the expectation that if you noticed a problem, you endeavored to solve it.
Maybe this wasn’t solvable in all those easy ways, but it didn’t mean she could shirk herotherresponsibilities. So she forced herself to set it aside, setDiegoaside. She went through a quick—cold—shower, then went down to breakfast and her to-do list for the day.
This morning, she would work on ball preparations. In the afternoon, she would convince Diego to accompany her down to a nearby village for a nice stroll. The nearest village put out elaborate nativity scenes made by local artists every year—something she wasn’t sure he’d attended in his youth but knew his parents had donated money to the artists in years past, so he had to havesomeawareness of them.
And they would be outside, so she would not have to deal with what happened in the kitchen.
No, she wasn’t going tohidefrom it. She just needed some time to…sort through it. And being alone didn’t seem to be the best way to do that. Not…just yet, anyway.
Satisfied with this plan, she went downstairs and poured herself some coffee before settling into her small office. It had once been Aurora’s “music room,” and Amelia kept the small antique piano in the corner. Sometimes when she felt lonely, she’d go play a tune and imagine the house was still full and no one had died.
She wondered what Diego would think of that story. Would he commiserate? Or would that be too close tofeelingfor him to take on board?
She shook her head, irritated with herself for obsessing over him. Yes, her holiday project was getting through to him by year’s end, but that didn’t mean every waking moment had to be about what he thought or felt. Especially not if she was going to make certain this ball was everything she wanted it to be.
“Good morning.”
Amelia jolted, sloshing a bit of coffee over the rim of her mug. She blinked up at the intrusion to find Diego standing in the doorway.
Sounding cheerful. Amelia didn’t trust it, but she returned his smile anyway. She met his positive attitude with her best approximation of one. “Good morning.”
He was dressed for the day in casual attire, and he walked into the room like he owned it.
Because he does, Amelia.
He looked around and seemed to take in the different details. Did he remember his sister playing music—or, more often, refusing to play—here? Did this room mean nothing to him? She couldn’t tell. Especially when he said nothing, just walked the perimeter of the room.
The silence gave her too much room to think—about last night, abouthernight. So she blurted out the first question she could think of. “Did you sleep well?”
