Page 69 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

Now, as his fingers tapped nervously against the programme page where her stunning picture was displayed, he wished he could dislodge the other refrain in his head.

You’re too late. You’re too late.

By the time her piece came, he was almost crawling out of his skin.

Her violin solo wasn’t long. But it was profound and haunting and magnificent enough to have the entire audience enthralled. To have them applauding louder and longer when it was over. To keep him on his feet and clapping longer still. Until heads turned his way, until eyes widened, speculation drifting through the crowd.

But Jario only had eyes for her.

As he’d had right from the beginning.

As he should’ve before committing the sin of allowing the past to dictate his future.

He’d have only himself to blame if he was too late. But she’d taught him to fight, to find a different path, andsanto diavolo, he’d fight to the death for her, given half a chance.

That chance-seeking was interrupted when the event ended and he was making his way backstage, by a man he’d know anywhere on earth.

Since their last face-to-face meeting drink had taken its toll on Paul Chatterton. As Jario looked into his eyes, he saw another emotion that tormented him.

Guilt.

‘Tagarro. Can I have a word, please?’ the older man rasped.

Jario’s nostrils flared. Meeting Chatterton had been on his list but here and now wasn’t how he’d planned it. But perhaps it was right that he went to Willow with even less baggage.

‘You have five minutes.’

‘I know this means less than nothing in the grand scheme of things, but I tried to help when I got back. The banks refused to lend me money, and the company wasn’t worth anywhere near what was needed. It was why we went to Colombia in the first place. If that deal had happened, we would’ve...’

Jario watched Paul Chatterton take a deep breath, his pallor ashen. ‘Why did you lie about the insurance?’

Chatterton’s face crumbled. ‘I thought it was too expensive. And yes, I know it was stupid. And wrong.’ Chatterton grimaced. ‘But I honestly didn’t think any of us would need it. I called the Colombian police every day. I even tried to get a charitable fund going but as you can guess, it didn’t get far.’

Jario wished he’d shut up. Not because he didn’t want the overdue show of remorse but because the alarmingcompassionbuilding inside him overwhelmed him.

Because now, with Willow’s father in front of him, he recognised that emotion as the one that’d delayed Chatterton’s destruction. It’d been there all along, a seed that had flowered with his daughter’s arrival.

He didn’t want to deal with that on top of the wrenching anguish tearing up his insides. He’d suffered through the longest ten days of his life after dropping off his thankfully calmer mother at a wellness resort in the Maldives. Starting with the short, stark and stomach-hollowing text from Willow two days after her departure.

I’m not pregnant.

Three words that had shattered him far deeper than he’d anticipated, killing hope he’d secretly harboured. He’d wandered his yacht for two more sleepless nights before summoning the courage to call her. She’d declined to answer.

And why should she after the deplorable way he’d treated—

‘I’m sorry.’

The thick remorseful voice cut through his wretched mood, forcing him to focus on Chatterton. To stare into his own misery to know he meant it.

‘I was a coward. A terrified coward who didn’t want to lose his company,’ Chatterton said regretfully, his fingers twisting frantically before he shoved them into his pockets. Sweat beaded his upper lip.

Looking around, Jario saw a table holding bottled water. Fetching one, he handed it over. Willow wouldn’t forgive him if her father passed out at her opening night.

And heneededher forgiveness.

‘As for the business, you probably know it never really took off.’ Guilt lurched across Chatterton’s face. ‘Your father was the true visionary behind the company. I’ve been using his business model for the better part of a decade and a half. But times have evolved. I don’t think I have what it takes to stay afloat even if...’

Even if I hadn’t lent a dismantling hand...