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Modern Romance December 2026 Books 1-4

Page 73

by Carol Marinelli

And, of course, Damon was calling.

‘You’re wanted,’ Gabe said and she lifted her eyes.

‘Not by you.’

He opened his mouth and then halted, because he’d been about to refute it. Admit he wanted her still.

But he stopped.

And she saw.

It was the single most seductive moment of his life.

Chapter Twelve

GABE WANTED HER STILL.

Back at the palazzo, he stared out from the lounge on the piano nobile, watching the car chase, but really, he was looking for any sign of her.

Of course he could not make her out from here, but he knew that she was down there, knew she’d had a rotten day and that some of it was down to him.

A lot of it, perhaps.

One by one, the lights went down—the shoot was over. The police lights were still flashing though and he knew the day was a long way from being over for Stella.

He poured a drink, a real one, not a prop, annoyed that he couldn’t go and sit on the terrace. His damned home was a movie set, and despite the many, many practical and financial, even emotional reasons he’d given everyone, even himself, it had been because of Stella.

For that tenuous link, to know where she was in the year he’d promised his grandfather that no decisions would be made…

It was odd watching others come in and out of his residence, but more disquieting was watching a car pull up and Stella get out. Knowing that she was this minute entering his home, but not to see him.

Then the gates to the palazzo were closed, and he was fighting not to go downstairs and knock on every door, wake whoever was staying here.

Because of this craving and wanting that must not exist.

Yet it did.

* * *

Oh, and it was the same for Stella.

She wasn’t even tired any more, just drained, and she stood looking down at Sophia, who was soundly asleep and would no doubt wake her at two, or three, when she had to be on set at seven.

After speaking with Gabe.

She sat on the bed and buried her face in her hands and refused to cry with Sophia close, but seeing him, wanting him so violently still, had shaken her.

Damn you, Rinaldi.

‘Cry later,’ she told herself. After tomorrow, after they’d spoken, or after the movie was safely in the bag.

Pulling the blanket up around Sophia when she didn’t stir, Stella put out her clothes for the morning and then slipped out of the room, down the long corridor and to the ancient bathroom.

It was, with its ancient beauty, a little bit creepy, the lights not very bright and a tree tapped against the frosted windows. Stella’s intention had been a quick body shower, but she washed her hair and then stood under the warm water and tried not to recall kissing beneath the waterfall with Gabe.

And failed.

Then she remembered his gaze tonight, how his mouth had opened, how he’d met her eyes and without words had told her he wanted her.