Page 12 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

His father would be rolling in his grave!

Sorrow arrived hard on the heels of that thought, tightening his chest.

His father wouldn’tbein a grave in the first place if not for Paul Chatterton.

Shaking his head to dispel the searing grief, Jario activated the cameras, sat back and watched.

The sun had long set, but she was still at work. She’d finished the first two decks with surprising efficiency, her work annoyingly productive.

Now she was performing her initially assigned duties in Jario’s private deck. She’d cleaned his room and changed his sheets—three times under Ripley’s exacting standards until she got it right. As he watched, she wiped her hand on the apron and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Then leaning forward onto her hands and knees once more, she went to work.

Jario’s gut tightened as his gaze dropped to her luscious behind, watched it sway back and forth with her exertions. When his mouth literally watered, he cursed and shoved back from his desk, his fingers spearing his hair as unwanted lust curled hot and hard through him.

Diavolo, was he so far gone that he was ogling the last woman he should be tempted by like some online creep?

No, he wasn’t.

Then end it now.

He growled under his breath, the urge to knowwhyshe’d gone to the lengths she had, digging like a burr beneath his skin.

Not yet.

Breathing deep, he clicked onto another screen, his gaze tracking the satisfying downward trajectory of his prey.

It had taken years to successfully put the pieces in place after vital years of ensuring he’d become powerful enough to exact the purest form of revenge. Years during which he’d lived every day with harrowing loss. Of his father’s last moments. Of his mother’s deteriorating mental state.

But the tormenting existence had fuelled his purpose.

Now he’d almost completed the circle. He was weeks, months at most, from delivering the final,deadlyblow.

He didn’t need to hear Willow Chatterton out because her reasons weren’t necessary.

Nothingwould sway him from his goals.

Purpose restored, Jario’s fingers flew over the keyboard, not resting until he’d dismantled yet another rung. An hour later he rose, ignoring his stirring senses as he made his way to his suite, then out onto the wide private deck.

Only to stop in his tracks.

She was fast asleep on his lounger, her knees drawn up halfway to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. The errant curl had escaped again, caressing her cheek and ruffling slightly with her breaths. It enraged him that even in sleep, this woman continued to be stunningly beautiful. That his fingers itched to tuck that curl back, trace her silky-smooth cheek.

Wake her in the most delightfully erotic way possible.

The diabolical thought jerked him forward to reach for her shoulder, shaking her awake.

Lush lashes fluttered then opened. Liquid brown eyes locked with his one moment before she hissed in surprised irritation like a scalded cat, surging up and away from him with innate grace that vexed and fascinated.

Unfortunately, the act sent her dangerously close to the railing.

He lunged for her, his heart leaping into his throat as he grabbed her waist and drew her against him.

‘What are you doing?’ she shrieked, outrage heating her cheeks.

His grip tightened as she struggled. ‘What do you think? And stop acting like you’re under attack.’

‘I don’t know that I’m not. I woke up to find you looming over me, startling the hell out of me! It’s a natural reaction.’

‘And sleeping on the job? Is that a natural reaction for you, too?’