Page 57 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

Going to see Cilla would give her space to think... That was all she needed right now.

‘I’ll give you my decision in two weeks,’ she said. The words were hard to get out, her voice barely loud enough to hear, too breathy, like she couldn’t get enough air. ‘I’m visiting my sister—’

‘You don’t want to visit your sister.’

‘I—Ido.’

‘It’s a ruse. A delaying tactic. The question is why? What are your fears? Because no matter, if you tell me, I’ll try to ease them for you.’

Was she so transparent now? That alone was terrifying. How could she possibly explain her fears to him? What could she say to him that she hadn’t said to courtiers, her mother, father and brother? No one believed her apart from Cilla. She couldn’t take that chance with him.

‘Who’s to say I fear anything?’

Lies.They could choke her.

The phone in her pocket buzzed once. She flinched. The only alerts she’d ever set were for Cilla and...she almost hyperventilated even thinking about him: Count Hakkinen. The man everyone believed was her rescuer. All they’d seen was him trying to pull her from the wreckage of the car, not how he’d been following her that night, the chase that had caused the accident in the first place. She should take the phone out and check, though she and Cilla had only spoken that morning...

Aston cocked his head. But the look on his face of patient acceptance told her she was transparent as glass.

‘Do you want adventure? I’m an expert. Do you want to bargain with me? I’m a reasonable man, especially where you’re concerned.’

Adventure? A bargain? He was offering her...choices. Ana hesitated. She looked at him,reallylooked, and saw what she hadn’t noticed before because she’d been tangled in her own head. The way his nostrils flared. The sheer intensity of his gaze, how it didn’t shift from her. The desire burning from him. It was like he needed her in some way. A jolt ran through her, a spike of sensation totally unfamiliar.

A sense of her own power.

‘What will it take?’ he said. His voice was low, decadent, tempting as her favourite dessert. He was offering her the world right now, if she simply knew how to reach out and take it.

‘What will it take for you to postpone the visit to your sister and come with me instead?’

Aston didn’t chase women. He’d promised himself after Michel’s accident and death that any pursuit was pointless. Sure, flirtation and the inevitable delicious consequences were all part of the game. But he’d never been about the long term, a fact he’d made clear to every woman he considered a liaison with. He’d never led anyone on with sweet words and false promises. He wished Michel had done the same all those years ago. He’d witnessed his brother’s obsession and heartache over a woman, his loss of focus on a climb, with tragic consequences.

Nothing would distract from Aston’s quest to climb Everest. His survival and success depended on it. He’d stand on top of the world with that ice-axe for Michel—for himself.

Yet here he was, pursuing as he’d sworn never to do. Instead of seeming like some tiring, futile kind of game, there was something about it that thrilled him. The planning. The chase. The prospect of bargaining. His heart pumping as if he were about to tackle a sheer rock-face—the seeming impossibility of it till he found that narrow handhold, a crack, a way in.

Anastacia Montroy had a unique allure. She was theperfectcandidate to restore his inheritance. Now all he needed to do was to convince her to come away with him, because it was clear she wanted an escape of some kind. If he allowed her to run to her sister, he was certain that he’d never get her back, which was untenable. And he had the perfect weapon: her desire for him. Hence, the chase.

‘What will it take,ma déesse?’ he said again. ‘I need to know.’

Ana frowned, the cutest crinkle of her brow. Her confusion was plain.

‘You mean...leave?’

‘It’s clear you don’t want to stay. Your parents are intent on a quick wedding with no interest in your desires. Whereas with me...’

He let the sentence hang, allowing her to fill in whatever possibilities her imagination could conjure, because he saw the want. Saw the dark flare of her pupils, the rosy blush that brought life back to her pale cheeks.

‘W-when?’

‘Today, if you wish... My yacht’s in the harbour. She’s ready to go at short notice.’

‘It would be scandalous,’ she whispered.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a show of looking at it.

‘Pardon, I had to check the year. It seems we’ve left the 1800s. There wouldn’t be a scandal and, if there’s a story to tell, we write our own. People love to believe in love and whirlwind romances.’

A story like that wouldn’t be a hard sell. His business in Halrovia, and now this trip with his well-known yacht in the harbour, would lead people to form their own conclusions. When the engagement was inevitably announced, an astute reporter would put together the trail, leading everyone to conclude this had been a grand and secret love affair rather than some clinical arrangement.

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