Page 80 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

She found Apostolis at once, and all of that chaos and riot inside of her seem to spiral into a kind of sharp focus.

So sharp it almost hurt.

Jolie smiled, murmuring greetings to the guests as she passed, and then went directly to her husband to slip her arm through his and even hug it a little, as if they were close like that. She knew exactly how to make it seem as if they possessed a deeply physical connection, and so she did that, too. All it took was tilting her head up to look at him and smiling a bit dreamily as he looked down at her, his dark gaze burning hot.

And deeply wary.

Good,she thought.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said in a voice calculated toaccidentallyreach everyone. Then she offered the guests a faintly sheepish smile, as if surprised they’d heard her. “My only excuse is that I am a newlywed again. I never expected such a thing to happen.”

It was like she’d changed the temperature with a flip of a switch, because suddenly everyone was all smiles. And open in a way they hadn’t been, not quite, since they’d arrived. There had been too much speculation, too many whispers, too many raised brows.

But this new spirit of openness went on all evening.

Perhaps because of this, the family invited their hosts to have dinner with them. They all sat around the great table beneath the pergola, basking in the soft evening breeze, with its hint of salt and flowers in the air.

“We did wonder,” said the matriarch, sitting next to Jolie and even pressing her shoulder against hers. “There has been a great deal of talk about the changes here, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“It’s been a time of transition,” Jolie said with a nod. “It’s hard not to talk about that, I suppose, when it involves a place that means so much to all of us.”

“Spyros was a dear old man who everyone knows you loved well,” said the older woman, and Jolie knew that hereveryoneencompassed more people than simply the family members she gathered here each year to celebrate her birthday. “We all thought so. But you are a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. And what is it they say?The heart wants what it wants.” She smiled then, as if dispensing her good favor. “I think that a brand-new love story is exactly what the Andromeda needs.”

Jolie reached over and put her hand on the old woman’s hand. “I can’t tell you what it means to me that you understand,” she told her softly. “I know how it must look from the outside, but...”

She trailed off helplessly, and it was true that she meant to do that. To sound so helpless in the face of theApostolisof it all. But it was also true that her heart had not calmed down at all. And she was beginning to suspect that neither fury nor flu had anything to do with the situation inside of her.

A situation that was not getting better the longer she sat here, playing a womanmadly and recklessly in love.

“Anyone who looks at the two of you can see the chemistry between you,” said her guest, with a bit too much confidence for Jolie’s peace of mind—but she reminded herself that she wanted that. That it was a commentary on the act she was putting on and no more. No one knew what was happening inside of her. No one—including herself, if she was honest. “Just as anyone who saw you and Spyros could tell that what you had was real, not what they liked to hint in the papers. Don’t you worry, child. Real lovealwayswins over the gossips.”

Jolie murmured her thanks. And when she lifted her hand from the woman’s and shifted her gaze across the table, Apostolis was gazing straight at her.

Very much as ifheknew exactly what was happening inside her. All of that heat and weight and helpless wonder, God help her.

She found ithurtto tug her gaze away from his.

It was a long evening, filled with wine, conversation, laughter, and reminiscing. Sometimes she lost herself in moments like these and pretended she really was the mysterious and yet approachable hostess they thought she was, elegant and endearing in turn. Sometimes she forgot that these were roles that she played, not versions of heractual self. If she squinted, she could almost imagine that what the canny old woman had said about her was true. That she and Spyros had really had that kind of affection between them. Or that she and Apostolis had fallen head over heels in love.

That she’d really fallen into that kind of charmed life, here in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

And because there was an audience, because there was always an audience, she made sure that was exactly what it looked like.

At the end of the evening, when everything had been cleared away, she and Apostolis waved good-night to the guests. Then they walked back across the drive and she took the act one step further, threading her fingers through his and she turned back to wave over her shoulder once more.

His fingers closed over hers, tight. As if he had no intention of letting her go. And she could feel the tension in him. That humming awareness that she knew was in her, too, though she doubted it was for the same reason.

Hersinvolved the side of righteousness, after all.

She let herself droop almost languidly into him as they crossed the drive, enjoying the way he tensed the whole of his big, hard body at the contact. Then they went into the carriage house like they were exiting a stage.

Jolie went first. Apostolis followed. It was a perfect rendition ofcareful.

But once inside, she turned to him and laughed.

Right there in the hall, in front of all the artsy photographs of happy moments that she doubted had ever been as happy as they seemed, she made sure that her laugh was almost too brittle to bear.

“What do you think of that performance?” she asked him, in a completely different voice than the soft, cultured, dreamy one she’d been using all night. “Did you like it? Do you think that I’ll win an award now that the curtain’s gone down?”

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