Page 149 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8
‘Not at all,my love,’ she added sweetly, instead of the much more derogatory term she wanted to use. She finally found his hand and stepped onto the jetty, looking up at the sprawling walled estate that stretched almost as far as she could see. Hundreds of people waited at the grand entrance to the estate that lay within the walls.
‘I thought you said this was a small get-together,’ she whispered to him.
Enzo looked about him. ‘This is small? It is only four, five hundred people.’ He dismissed her question and Erin’s stomach dropped. Already she could feel the weight of people’s gazes onher, on thedress. This was going to be awful. Truly awful.
This was fabulous! It couldn’t have been any better. Erin Carter looked...appalling. Really there was no other way to describe it. He could almost feel bad about it. Almost. If he didn’t know that she was manipulating him for her own agenda. He’d wanted to see how far she would go. And this? Well, this told him just how desperate she truly was.
He led her proudly on his arm as if he didn’t have any trouble navigating the folds and fans of the dress that threatened to trip them both up if he wasn’t careful. He smiled greetings to a few people he recognised, not caring in the least that they all stared wide-eyed at the woman beside him. That was, after all, the entire point.
Over by the large Corten steel gates to the Marberry estate—a far too English sounding and appearing place for his Italian tastes, even if they had been watered down by the American quarter he’d inherited from his father—stood Marcus talking to some joint acquaintances.
Cynthia was a hanger-on who was often found sniffing around Marcus. He seemed to enjoy the attention, but Enzo was not exactly a fan. She could be catty on occasion and he was beginning to regret that she was there, realising in a heartbeat that she would take full advantage of Erin’s hideous appearance. On paper—or at least, in his mind—his idea had been perfect. But now that he was confronted with the reality of what would happen, had he perhaps gone too far?
‘Enzo!’ Marcus called, catching sight of him, his hand raised in the air halting mid-wave as he caught sight of the dress on his arm. Or, more accurately, Rin. ‘Hi!’ he greeted Enzo, evidently trying to fire a million telepathic questions at him through his wide-eyed gaze.
‘Marcus, Cynthia,’ Enzo greeted, ‘may I introduce Rin Carter. Rin, this is Marcus and Cynthia, two old friends.’
‘Less of the old there, chum,’ Marcus chided with a shoulder into Enzo’s side.
‘Charmed,’ Cynthia said, with a smile that didn’t even begin to reach the narrowing of her eyes.
‘It’s nice to meet you both,’ Rin said letting the hand she’d held out drop back into the organza when it wasn’t taken.
‘That’s a bold choice of dress, I must say,’ Cynthia proclaimed when she finally found her voice.
‘Thank you,’ Rin said, interestingly choosing not to lay the blame at his feet, no matter how much he deserved it. But, he reasoned, she could have said ‘no’ to wearing it. Surely the dress was justmoreproof that Rin would do whatever she had to, to get her hands on...on what? She wanted to sign a prenup. Well, maybe once her lawyers got their hands on it, they wouldn’t be so accommodating.
‘Rin has done the unthinkable, and foolishly agreed to marry me,’ he announced, forcing the subject and enjoying the way that Cynthia and Marcus eyed the spectacular engagement ring on her finger.
Cynthia looked utterly confused, and Enzo shook off the irritation he felt at the obvious slight. After all, it was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He wanted people to know. He wanted people to be confused and intrigued enough so that when it came time for Erin’s punishment, it would be full and public. The press would get wind of it soon enough, and he’d prepare and deliver a press statement in about a week, to ensure maximum exposure.
‘Shall we?’ Cynthia said to no one in particular, apparently choosing to ignore the rather shocking news of his engagement, as she turned and led the way through the gates into the party proper.
Enzo held back and watched Rin go, not feeling delighted in the looks of shock and half-laughs that she was drawing as she did so.
‘So,thisis the gold-digger trying to fleece you for your millions,’ Marcus whispered, casting an eye over her. ‘What is she wearing?’ he asked, half-horrified.
‘A mistake,’ Enzo murmured, for the first time unsure whether it was on her part or his.
The party was loud and brash, and Enzo was surprised to find it rather unwelcome after the last few days of relative peace on the boat. His gaze constantly returned to Rin who had been smiling in a way that made him think of abject misery before she excused herself. It had made him feel guilty and he didn’t like the unusual and unfamiliar feeling.
He tuned out whatever Marcus was talking about and focused on what was going on further out around them. He felt people’s gazes on him, saw the whispering behind hands, over champagne flutes as if that would hide the scathing attention they turned his way. He should be happy, surely. So why wasn’t he?
The twinkling lights hung around the garden flashed like paparazzo cameras and he was no longer at the party here on Isola del Giglio. Instead, he was nine years old, walking alone down the steps of the law court where his parents’ obscenely public divorce had taken on the weight of a show trial. The public was ravenous for the airing of their dirty laundry—the affairs, the substance abuse, the alcoholism, the neglect. In stark contrast to the near violent silence of his extended family, of the famous Gio Gallo.
No one seemed to care about the time when, aged seven, he’d been left at his boarding school over the Christmas break because each of his parents thought the other had picked him up. The time at the age of twelve when he’d been propositioned by one of his father’s lovers. Or when at fourteen he’d had to call an ambulance for his mother, after she had combined too much alcohol with pills. All of that, he could have managed... Had they left him out of it. Had they not used him as some kind of points system to make the other parent look worse. Had their love for him been anything more than glitz and glamor, used to serve their own ends. So no, people like them, people like Erin Carter...they deserved what they got.
Erin washed her hands in the basin of a bathroom dominated in so much gold baroque moulding, she worried that the ceiling might come down. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it, until she heard the very real laughter from the stalls behind her.
‘Oh my god, did youseeher!’
A high tittering laugh pre-empted the response. ‘Jeanie, she looks horrendous. What was she thinking?’
Instinctively, Erin felt bad for whoever it was. She’d never liked the mean-girl mentality. Not after switching schools at such a difficult age.
‘Is she trying to make a statement do you think?’
‘What? That she could wear that andstillmarry Rossetti?’
