Page 137 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

Her words conjure an image of her waking with golden light filtering through the windows, hair mussed as she rises and eyes heavy with sleep. I raise my cup to my lips as I internally vow that before this honeymoon is over, I will be in her bed one morning to wake her up, to rouse her with deep kisses and slow strokes until she’s crying out for me.

“Working?” I ask, my voice only a touch gravelly.

She shakes her head. “Sort of. More of a personal hobby I once enjoyed.” She shrugs. “Maybe it’ll turn into something.”

“Oh?”

Her gaze refocuses on me, her eyes narrowed, as if she’s trying to determine if I’m genuinely interested or if I have an ulterior motive in mind. I maintain her gaze. Yes, I want her to agree to amend the damned contract. But I’m genuinely curious as to what she’ll do next if she truly plans to honor her commitment to not pursue any more stories about Drakos Development.

“Something new. Nothing to do with corporations,” she adds with an arched brow.

“I feel safer already.”

Her barest huff of a laugh fills me. I don’t want to have as strong of a reaction as I do, to be as aware as I am of the little nuances and subtleties of her body language. But I can’t help it. I’m not just enjoying the chase. I’m enjoying her company. And she seems to be enjoying mine. Perhaps convincing her to spend the afternoon out where we can be seen and play up the lovesick honeymooners won’t be so challenging.

“Can you talk more about it?”

She dips her head. Pink changes her cheeks. It takes me a moment to realize it’s not coyness but shyness. She’s nervous about whatever the special project is. That hint of vulnerability tugs at me.

“Not yet. It’s still in its infant phase.”

She looks at me then. Her unexpectedly sweet and self-conscious smile stabs straight into my chest. Her fire, her passion, even her determination, all of it intrigues me. Coupled with this unexpected softness, from the way I saw her check in on Dessie throughout the wedding to the shy excitement adding a sparkle to her eyes right now, is alluring in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’ve never been interested in looking past the surface.

Until the woman sitting across from me caught my attention with her daring in standing up to Lucifer. The first person outside my family I’d ever seen risk his wrath.

“Are you moving away from investigative reporting?”

Some of the light dims.

“I don’t know. My last job...” Her throat moves as she swallows hard. “It was more challenging than I expected.”

I watch her as she raises her coffee to her lips, her gaze distant. I start to ask more, but my phone rings. I glance down. Anticipation zings through me as I recognize the number for Paul Properties offices in New York City.

I glance up. She’s looking at me now. I’ve never hesitated in taking a work call. But after what she’s just alluded to, I pause.

“Go ahead.” She smiles. “I’m okay.”

I move into the living room and take the call from one of Paul’s numerous lawyers. The property I want to buy is in a neighborhood that most people have written off. But I had seen the early signs of rejuvenation. The investment in local businesses, the efforts of residents to organize neighborhood watches, community gardens, and other activities that bolstered the rate of people moving in while reducing crime. There are still problems, but there’s a lot of potential.

Unlike my early years in the slums of Santorini, I now had both the money and power to turn that potential into something concrete. Something that hasn’t become a focus until recently. My only objective when I first started with Drakos Development had been to make as much money as possible. But that goal has evolved, especially in the last year or so as the money hasn’t brought as much contentment, as the sensation of wielding power and influence has dulled. My goals now include bettering the communities surrounding my properties. Maybe it will do nothing.

But maybe it will make a difference for someone. Someone like my mother who had someone like me who loved them, despite their numerous faults. Someone who, with the right support, might be able to do what my mother failed to do and climb out of their pit.

I’m not ready to share this new focus with the public. Not yet. Knowing it’s rooted in my own painful past is a vulnerability I’m not ready to share. Six minutes later, after answering numerous questions I know were more designed to test me than to divine any information, I hang up and return to the terrace.

Just in time to see my wife with her head tilted to one side as she reads the file I left open on the table.

I freeze, watching as she cranes her neck to read more. Betrayal rips through me so fast I barely contain my snarl. I stalk over, reach down, and snatch the file from under her nose.

“It didn’t take you long to break our bargain.”

She stares up at me with a wrinkle between her brows and an innocent expression on her beautiful face.

“What are you talking about?”

I dangle the folder from my fingertips.

“Tell me, did you decide to marry me because it might give you access to some of the corporate bigwigs you’ve been trying to take down? Or was that just a side benefit in addition to the two million dollars?”

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