Page 172 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8
Now that was a target who could bear the weight of Enzo’s anger. What on earth was the old man up to? He had, until now, shown absolutely no interest in either his daughter or his grandson. Hiskin. As far as Enzo was concerned, the man didn’t deserve the time of day.
But clearly Gio Gallo had resorted to extreme methods to get his attention. For what reason? Enzo wasstillnone the wiser. And neither did he care.
The old man’s plans had been thwarted and that was enough. Enzo was done being manipulated by the people around him, he decided, digging his heels further into the solitary island he had put himself on long ago. The only thing that would make him feel better would be to return to his eminently enjoyable lifestyle as if none of this sordid mess had ever happened.
Erin wheeled her suitcase into the empty airport. It had taken her very little time to pack her bags, and write a note for Frederick, asking him to return all the clothing that she’d purchased that day in Positano using Enzo’s card.
The member of staff that had found her a cab hadn’t wanted to leave her on her own, but she needed to disentangle herself from Enzo and anyone with him. It was three o’clock in the morning and after she had used her phone to buy herself a ticket on the first flight out from Cannes to Heathrow, she found the ladies’ bathroom, checked that it was empty, locked herself in a stall and collapsed against the door, letting the tears fall. Fist pressed into her mouth, just in case anyone did enter the bathroom, she let the silent sobs wrack her body, from the inside out.
All the anger that she’d felt in the club, first hearing the ruthlessness of his plan had fled under the immense weight of her own guilt.
She had lost Charterhouse, but it didn’t even compare to losinghim.
She had seen him, standing there all alone on the upper deck of his yacht, and her heart had torn in two. She didn’t believe him, when he said that it had all been lies. She knew that she’d hurt him terribly. And she deserved to see that, to know his pain on top of her own.
Oh god, how had she got this all so wrong?
It had started off wanting to help her mother. Wanting security. But she’d done that at someone else’s expense. And sheknewbetter than that. She did, she told herself as another tear rolled down her cheek. She had become just like her father, she realised with horror. Wanting something so desperately that it didn’t matter who she hurt in the process. Only it did matter.
Her heart broke, not for herself, but for him. For the little boy that had been so appallingly used, by his parents, as if he were a chess piece in the game of their relationship. And she had done the same. Until she had seen differently. But it had been too late. He had been brutally hurt by her. And she knew that there was no coming back from that. And she’d live with the guilt of having done that to an admirable man, a kind man, a funny man, a man who had brought her alive under his attention.
A man she loved.
Her chest ached and her tears ran and she ignored the phone buzzing in her purse until she couldn’t. She checked the screen, hoping that it might be Enzo and hating herself for being disappointed to read the name.
Still, she hit the button to accept the call.
‘Oh, Sam. I’ve really messed things up.’
Chapter Eleven
EnzoRossetti stalkedthrough the foyer of Gallo Group headquarters in Rome, utterly unaware that he was retracing Erin’s earlier footsteps, four weeks to the day. The soothing tones of rose gold and cream had no impact on the furious Italian whatsoever.
Nothing had dulled the edge of his frustration. Ever since Erin had left, despite his words, Gio Gallo’s name had been an earworm in his mind and despite all his intentions to ignore the man’s foolish interference in his life, Enzo couldn’t let it alone.
A member of Gallo Group staff pointed him towards an elevator with doors open and waiting. He’d always known about Gio Gallo. When he’d been younger, he’d looked for any piece of information he could find about the ruthless, determined man who had cut Enzo and his mother from his life.
Harsh words to describe his grandfather, but no less true. Gio had severed all financial, emotional, and legal connections between him and his daughter because he had disliked her choice of husband. Whether the man had been right about Luca Rossetti or not, that Gio Gallo had chosen to abdicate his responsibilities as a father, as a grandfather, wasunnatural.
And feeling an unusual spurt of pride for his mother, Enzo was pleased that she had defied Gio’s overly zealous rule. She wasn’t the only one—there was apparently a cousin who had also been disinherited five years ago for exactly the same crime.
Marriage.
So why on earth had Gio sought to engineerhis?
Was he, in his dotage, finally regretting his actions? Enzo scoffed. He doubted it.
But whatever his reasoning, why had he chosen Erin?
The latter, of course, was irrelevant and he told himself as he rose to the uppermost floor of the impressive building that he didn’t care. He stepped out into a small but luxurious waiting room where an assistant sat behind a large ornate desk, attacking a keyboard with alarmingly red nails.
‘Please take a seat,’ she said without deigning to look up or even pause whatever war she was waging.
He barked out a laugh.
‘No, grazie,’ Enzo replied, walking straight over to the large doors bearing his grandfather’s name, opening them and continuing on into the room.
The old man who was sitting behind the desk was much smaller than Enzo had imagined. The research he’d done had given Enzo the impression of height and width. But Enzo’s fury began to ebb at the sight of slight shoulders and papery skin. Despite that, there was nothing aged about his gaze. The warning there was bright, clear, and fiercely intelligent.
