Page 77 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

Whatever it was, it had no place between them.

Thishurthad no place in this war.

And she must have told herself the same thing, he thought, because she was the one who spoke first. She was the one who broke this odd moment in half.

“We will have to hurry,” she said, in a brisk sort of voice, as if they hadn’t been talking aboutshadowsonly moments before.

“Hurry?” he repeated, feeling...off-kilter.

It was not a sensation he enjoyed. And he would consider it one more mark against her, he decided. One more offense she would need to answer for, in the most delectable way possible.

“It is almost time for cocktails on the terrace, which most guests demand,” she told him, that edge in her voice back as if it had never been gone. “This is the sort of thing that the proprietor of the Andromeda must never forget, Apostolis. It is one among many tiny little details that must be welded to your bones, as much a part of you as breath. Our last guest and his entourage preferred their own company, but that is unusual. Normally, not only must you follow the schedule every day in and day out, you must make certain that our guests feel as if there is no schedule at all. As if it is merely spontaneous, the joy we find in their presence, and so we celebrate it with a bottle of something lovely beneath the stars of an evening.”

He wasn’t sure what moved in him then. Was it a dark thread of laughter? Or was he more inclined to...shout?

“I don’t know why I am always so astonished that every last part of you is a work of theater,” he found himself saying, his voice low and urgent in a way that might have alarmed him, but it was better than shouting. And he was too busy trying to work out that look on her face. Why couldn’t he categorize it?

“I can tell that you mean that to be an insult.” Jolie rolled her eyes as if to say,and a weak one at that. “But I’m not insulted. On the contrary, you could not have complimented me more if you tried. Your father made it clear that he wanted me to inhabit the role of the iconic hostess here. Unknowable, yet everyone’s confidante, and so on. I’m glad to know I’ve done that.”

She didn’t wait to see his reaction to that, the way any other woman he’d ever known would have. And always had. Instead, she opened up her door and climbed out of the Range Rover as if she’d finished with this conversation.

Or perhaps with him altogether.

That wasn’t the reason he found himself following suit, and quickly, he assured himself. He was simply exiting the vehicle.

And he found her again in the middle of the drive, the sea at her back, the olive trees on the hill, and standing there above them, the Andromeda. Keeping a silent, watchful eye on everything, as always.

Only a fool would complicate the situation by touching her, but Apostolis did it anyway. He took her wrist in his hand and found himself staring down at that point of contact. It took him too long to lift his eyes to hers again, and when he did he found her regarding him.

Again with a look he could not name in her gaze.

“Careful,” she said, almost too quietly. “Just because you can’t see anyone doesn’t mean we’re not in public. That’s one of the first things your father taught me.”

“I suppose I’m delighted to hear that he was able to impart his version of wisdom to someone,” Apostolis gritted out.

Something not quite a smile moved over her face. “Says the man who claims there’s no shadow over his life, when he is little more than an eclipsed moon trying too hard to act the part of the sun.”

It felt like a knife to the gut.

He told himself it was comforting, somehow. A return to form.

“I thought I’d lost you somewhere on the coastal road,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “Unexpected vulnerability? A perfectly civil conversation, no less? I hardly knew you at all.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp, both of them aware that he could have held onto her if he’d wanted to. And he took an atavistic pleasure in the way her own hand went to cover the place he’d touched her, as if she needed to soothe the sensation.

Or hold it close.

“Dioni is a good friend of mine,” she told him with that quiet dignity that he knew was meant to make him feel small. He told himself it didn’t work. “I’m going to miss her. She has...always been here. As long as I’ve been here, anyway. It will feel empty without her.”

“It won’t for long,” he told her then, deciding in that instant that telling her now actually made it harder on her. He wasn’t pulling a punch, he was making sure it landed harder. That it reverberated more fully.

He certainly wasn’t attempting to make herfeel better.

A faint frown sketched itself between her brows. “I can only imagine what that’s supposed to mean.”

“No need to imagine, my dear and darling wife,” he drawled, enjoying the thick weight of that satisfaction deep within him. “It’s not a secret. I’ve had all your things moved into the carriage house. Isn’t it wonderful? We will finally live together as man and wife.”

And then he left her there, sputtering on the drive, and went to play the role oficonic hosthimself.

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