Page 209 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

‘Just for a few days. Five, max. Ashleigh too,’ he invited. ‘She’s only just got here and she needs you. Plus she’ll be good company because I’ll need to—’

‘Work,’ Elodie interrupted with a laugh. ‘Sure, I’ll ask her.’

But Ashleigh looked appalled when Elodie went to her a few minutes later.

‘I amnotcoming on your honeymoon!’ she whisper-screeched. ‘I shouldn’t have come herenow—’

‘Of course you should have. I want you here. Please, Ash—’

But Ashleigh point-blank refused, and in the end Elodie phoned Bethan, who immediately offered for Ashleigh to stay with her. As Phoebe—Bethan’s flatmate and the third member of the FFS club—was still in Italy, she would love the company. Elodie simply loved her friend.

Naturally Ramon retreated into work mode for the entire trip but his expression grew from remote to thunderous the nearer they got to the island and she didn’t think it was because of the report he was supposedly reading. Seeing him so off balance wasn’t just surprising, it was actually upsetting. Elodie would talk to him about it, only he clearly didn’t want to. And why would he—they were ‘married’ but it was atemporaryarrangement. He didn’t want compassion from her, nor any other kind of emotion other than sexual attraction. And she didn’t want to feel anything else, either. She was strong and independent and alone and that’s how she intended to stay. Always.

Yet his spiralling mood mattered to her.

At last they got through the final leg of the journey—a short hop from the mainland by helicopter, then Elodie scurried to keep pace with him up the path to the stunning stone house at the top of the hill.

‘I’ll set up a workspace,’ he said tersely. ‘I have things to do before the close of day in the States.’

‘Sure.’

She refused to pry and determinedly explored the house instead. She would keep their affair on the superficial, sexual level it was supposed to be.

The home was smaller than she’d expected—more cottage than mansion. The kitchen was stocked with the healthy, high-quality food he enjoyed. She went out the wide glass doors and took in the views of the sea. It was isolated and utterly beautiful.

There were no staff onsite. Not—she suspected—because he wanted to be alone with her, but because he didn’t want anyone else here. Despite its undeniable beauty, he didn’t want to be herehimself. She figured his reasons had to be deeply painful. Had he spent time here as a child? With both his parents now dead, were those memories too much? Or had something horrible happened here?

The guy buried himself in work constantly. It was what he was doing now, in fact—total emotional avoidance mode. But in that argument with his aunt he’d said he’d sacrificed everything to prove himself. What had he meant by that?

She turned back to the house, suddenly needing to check on him.

He was in the lounge, sprawled back in a low-slung chair—a glass dangling from his hand, watching her approach with a moody gaze. For whatever reason he was definitely hurting, and an answering emotion rippled within her. He didn’t appear to have got much work done in the hour since she’d left him to get on with it. Maybe he needed a different ‘escape’ than what his work could offer.

‘Time for a break?’ she said lightly.

‘I don’t need a break,’ he said belligerently. ‘What is it you say? A change is as good as a holiday? I visit a different company property and it is refreshing. I am constantly refreshed.’

But this wasn’t a company property. This was a personal one.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said dryly. ‘Your mood is so revitalised.’

His annoyance visibly deepened. ‘You enjoy the endless creativity of your escape scenarios. We are very similar, no?’ He snaked out a hand as she passed, catching her wrist and tugging her into his lap. ‘We both likethis...’

His glass fell to the floor and he growled as she softened against him.

‘But you’re all bark and no bite,’ he muttered huskily, holding her too tightly for her to slip off his lap. ‘Where’s the seductress who drives men wild?’

He thought she was some amazing lover—that’s what she’d implied, right? But now he was watching her with those very astute eyes and she felt hot and embarrassed because she sowasn’tand had her faking it failed?

‘Most men like to be in charge.’ Her coquettish reply fell flat because she mumbled it.

‘Men who are in charge all the time sometimes like to relinquish the reins,’ he countered. ‘Besides, I thoughtyouliked to be in charge. Isn’t that your everything?’

Elodie didn’t know how to answer him without admitting her inexperience. But she couldn’t stop herself gazing back into his beautiful blue eyes. He looked so tired. So tortured. Her heart rose and she gently cupped his jaw, soothing her fingers over his rough stubble. He worked too hard.

‘Ravish me, Elodie.’ He suddenly groaned. ‘Make me your slave.’

The anguish in his expression made her realise this wasn’t some test. He was hurting and her own heart ached in response.

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