Page 252 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

‘It seems like you have all been successful.’

Was Enzo a successful conte? He did what he could, but he made sure to stay away. Could he do more if he spent his time in Perlano?

‘I love the hedge maze,’ Celeste said, breaking through his thoughts.

Was she offering up a little bit of information about herself? Ever since that moment on the plane, she was becoming a puzzle that he wanted to solve. He wasn’t sure why, but if he could keep her talking, maybe he would collect a few more pieces.

‘It was an addition made by my father’s great-grandfather. His wife loved sitting in the gardens, but she particularly loved that fountain, so he created the maze around it so she could be surrounded by both things she loved. But they say he ensured the hedges were kept lower than the fountain so he could always see where she was, see over the walls.’

‘That’s a beautiful story. I imagine there are a lot of stories in this place.’

‘There are. Every conte put their mark on it in some way. It was a favourite pastime of mine to find all of them.’

He was proud of his history. How could he not be? It was a privilege to be handed the legacy and ensure that it endured. A privilege and a weight, but not one he’d ever shied away from. He had taken it all on, and he hoped he had made his father proud too.

Enzo turned around to look at Celeste, at all the burning questions in her eyes. Her next question would likely be what everyone asked:How does it feel to be the conte? Did you always want to be?He would give his usual rehearsed answer. Feelings had nothing to do with it. It was always his destiny. But if he was honest with himself, he had always wanted to be. He wanted to honour his father, the man who’d spent so much time with him, preparing him for the duty, ensuring he was strong enough to lead. Their bond had been profound: Enzo had loved his father, but more than anything he had respected him.

Instead, Charlotte asked, ‘What mark have you left?’

The question caught him off guard. He knew what he had changed, but he wasn’t sure if that was how he made his mark. ‘The kitchen.’

‘I’m sorry?’

Enzo saw that she had drained her glass, so he refilled both his and hers. ‘My mother loved this place, especially the vineyards, but she also loved to cook. So after my father passed, I had the kitchen remodelled to give her the scenery she loved plus the convenience of modern life. She was getting older, you see.’

‘So you wanted to make it easier on her,’ Celeste said as he resumed his place at the pillar. This time, instead of looking out at the garden, he only saw her and how, in the darkness, her black hair looked almost blue. How elegant she was, despite how much she seemed to try to hide.

‘Yes,’ Enzo answered.

‘Did you ever learn to cook from her?’

‘I’m Italian,cara mia.’ He grinned. ‘Of course she ensured both her sons were capable. And you?’

‘And me what?’ Charlotte asked, ignoring his mocking tone.

‘You almost certainly asked me that question anticipating that the answer would beno. Probably so you could make some clever remark. I’m simply asking you the same.’

Enzo was being playful, something that both shocked and delighted Charlotte. He had certainly not shown her much of his personality in the office. Everything about him seemed so closely guarded. He always said just enough. Never once in all the time she’d known him had she seen him allow someone into his thoughts, but now he was offering her peeks into who he was underneath it all.

In some ways, he was just like her. Hiding. Maybe not to the same extent as her, but there was an Enzo to uncover. And she wanted to see more. That cocked brow made something curl in her belly. The way he looked at her with those green eyes that were so startlingly bright, even in the moonlight. They pierced through her and made her mouth go dry. The reaction surprised her, but it felt good to feel something exhilarating. It was as if she was coming alive. She saw the man every day, but she’d never felt pinned by his gaze, except now that was exactly what was happening.

She shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. But when Enzo, the famed control freak, saw fit to be playful, maybe it was safe to let go just a little bit. So she answered without thinking.

‘Of course I can. In fact, I have learned under some of the very best chefs in the world.’

‘Oh, really?’ Enzo challenged.

‘Yes. It’s called the internet. You should check it out sometime.’ She turned her nose up at him, taking a long sip of her wine, and when she shifted her gaze over to him, she saw that he was stifling a smile.

Enjoying herself more than she had in a while, she curled her fingers around the frame of her glasses and drew them off her face. It felt so much better to be without them. Without that constant weight, that reminder to be someone else. She picked the bottle off the table and walked over to Enzo, emptying what was left into their glasses.

She could feel him watching her intently as she read the label then placed the bottle back on the table. She was always so careful not to splurge, not to buy anything that could raise suspicions, but maybe when they returned home, she could make an exception for this wine.

‘Alla tua.’She clinked her glass against Enzo’s and watched his eyes darken when she sipped.

‘Usually the toast comes first,’ he said, his voice pitched low. The gravel in his tone made her feel warm.

Maybe with the loss of her glasses some of her old boldness returned, because she found herself saying, ‘Rules are meant to be broken.’