Page 46 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

Dioni walked further into the house, following the gleaming lights and the sound of a string quartet. She allowed herself to be swept up into the glittering, old-world charity ball, the sort that were put on all the time in graceful places like this, comprising a very particular social circle for a certain set of people.

She knew exactly which set, because she recognized some of the faces here. Old school friends. Socialites and celebrities. And, as always at these things, the sort of truly powerful people who did not operate in spheres that ended up in papers because they owned those papers. Lavishly appointed rooms like this were the places where they were instantly recognizable, but not outside in the streets.

But she didn’t care about any of them. What she was looking for was a little knot of people she eventually found in a far corner, having what looked like the sort of friendly conversation that was actually business in a place like this, though it was important for all parties involved to act as if it wasn’t. Genteel negotiating was the only sort allowed in these balls, because outright negotiation would be considered gauche.

Then again, all the same people considered her gauche, too.

It was the hair that she could feel was finding its way loose from the twist she’d put it up in. It was the hem of the dress that she was sure was unsewing itself as she moved, and she had to be careful not to go too fast or it was a certainty that she would do an inelegant header.

Not that anyone would be surprised.

Though she did take some comfort from her lack of elegance. At least she wasn’tthatfilled with despair tonight.

If this was temper, Dioni decided she liked riding it.

Accordingly, she marched across the ballroom floor. She nodded at the raised eyebrows and the familiar faces. She made no accommodation for her enormous belly and found it gratifying, she could admit, to see the way that people leaped out of her way.

As she moved closer, it was Jolie who looked up and smiled. Because it was Jolie, of course, who had volunteered their whereabouts tonight and had directed Dioni straight to them.

Just as it was Jolie who now took her husband’s arm and held on to it so that as Dioni bore down upon their group, he could not intercede.

They both knew Apostolis well.

“Good evening,” Dioni said merrily as she joined the group, stepping close to her husband and sliding her arm through his. “I’m so sorry to be late.” She could feel the way that Alceu stiffened beside her. She could feel his startled glare on the side of her face. She smiled at the people, who she vaguely recognized as some or other billionaire, his heiress wife, and a set of minor nobles. She smiled even more widely at them. “What a pleasure to meet you all. I am Dioni Vaccaro. Alceu’s apparently secret wife.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ALCEUWASINa state of shock.

And it did not help that he had been standing there, pretending to engage in the typical sort of boring cocktail conversation that Apostolis had always excelled at—and was even better at now, it had to be said—while thinking instead of Dioni.

Of the way she had looked at him the night before last, with such adoration, as she’d woken up to find him with her. He could taste her in his mouth. He had been certain a hundred times already that he had heard her laugh, or smelled her fragrance—a mixture of the soap he preferred and the lotions she used, always mingled with arousal.

Apostolis had already lifted a brow in his direction, more than once, as a sign to attempt to put a smile on his face. And he had tried.

He hadtriedto try, to be more accurate.

Now she was right there beside him.Touchinghim, when even looking at her was a weakness.

And yet for all that she was smiling, there was something like steel in her dark gaze.

He wanted to pick her up then and there, and carry her out. He wanted to get his hands on her, his mouth on her. He wanted to lay her down on any flat surface and make them both sigh.

He wanted a great number of things that polite company—and her brother’s presence—forbade him.

“What are you doing here?” Apostolis asked Dioni when all Alceu could seem to do was glare down at her. “Should you be flying anywhere in your state?”

“She should not be,” Alceu said darkly.

“Sheflew with medical supervision, naturally,” Dioni said lightly, smiling at the other guests.

“Becausesheis not a child,” Jolie chimed in.

“Though,” Dioni said with that laugh that drove him mad, “sheisfinding that she quite likes referring to herself in the third person.”

And Alceu could not abide it. He could not make any sense of this dark wave inside of him, something tidal and primal, roaring up from the depths of him in a way that should have scared him. But it didn’t.

He felt it was the only possible reaction to this moment. To standing here in this dry, tedious business event that Apostolis had insisted they attend because he liked to play the part of careless Greek tycoon only to go around saving people from the unsavory practices of those he met in such places. It was areasonableresponse to find the woman who haunted him with every breath right here before him. In flesh and blood.

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