Page 32 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

All those things he ought to have been considering pressed in upon him again, but he shoved them aside, more ruthlessly this time.

Because the child would be born soon enough, and the reality of how he would need to be raised—to avoid all the pitfalls of the family name—would take precedence. Having failed to prevent the bloodline from continuing, Alceu would have to do the next best thing and make certain it polluted as little as possible.

This was a moment, this thing between him and the wife he’d never wanted. This was a marvel, it would not last, and he decided in the brightness of that deep blue morning that he would let it play out as it would.

Becauseit couldn’t last.

And so for the next few weeks, for the first time in his life, he simply...allowed his life to carry on at its face value.

The business was in one of its fact-finding phases, meaning that they were in between projects and looking for new opportunities to help struggling businesses get back on their feet. It was an enjoyable phase, allowing him to follow threads and fancies wherever they took him, looking at the kinds of projects that made him feel as if—despite the undeniable fact that he was a Vaccaro—he was putting good out into the world. He and Apostolis conferred when they found promising leads and sent ideas back and forth, and he allowed himself to enjoy that part of the process as much as he always did.

He also continued researching possible uses for the castle. The trouble was, Europe was littered with the ruins of grand legacies in the form of castles and keeps, and it took money and vision to transform them into something else. It wasn’t that Alceu lacked those things, but he needed to be sure that if the castle was to remain standing, it stood for good.

And outside his office, he allowed the marvel of it all to continue, because he knew it was temporary. He did not move Dioni into his side of the castle officially, but she never slept in the guest rooms. They woke up every morning wrapped around each other. He took great pleasure in feeding her and in making certain that each day started well. Blue and bright, for as long as possible.

When he found her again in the evenings, she was filled with stories about the adventures she’d had during the day. She had started venturing into the villages. To see them, she said. To wander about the markets, sit by the sea, and get a feel for the local culture.

Neither one of them mentioned the story he’d told her of the village girl who had lost everything because of her association with this family.

And besides, as he kept reminding himself, these days could not matter because they could not last.

“Every village is unique, and yet the same,” Dioni was saying tonight, at one of the dinners his mother insisted upon, claiming she liked the opportunity to be civilized. Alceu thought it was more likely because she thought she could exert her influence on the newest member of the family. “It’s always fascinating to explore them and get a sense of how they are different than the others, and what remains the same. This is true in Greece as well.”

“It is not necessary for you to do that,” Marcella said, frowning. “They are villages. They do not requirestudy.”

“It might not be necessary, but I enjoy it,” Dioni replied cheerfully. “I was talking to a fisherman today, who told me—”

“A fisherman?”Marcella let out one of her slithery laughs. Alceu could feel it wind itself around and around until it felt like it was clamped to the base of his spine. “What on earth coulda Vaccarohave to discuss witha fisherman?”

Alceu had learned by now that his wife was a master at not reacting to provocation. She didn’t change her expression. She didn’t get tense. She only smiled.

“I don’t know anything about fishing for a living, Marcella,” she said in that same merry way of hers. “And the man I met is something of an expert on the subject. So we had a great deal to talk about, it turns out.”

Alceu saw his mother shift position in her seat, every part of her radiating disapproval, which he knew boded ill. So he adroitly changed the subject, talking about some or other world events, while promising himself for what had to be the hundredth time to stop allowing these dinners to take place.

He felt as if he was exposing Dioni, not to mention his unborn child, to a pit of snakes.

Moreover, there was no joy in these forced appearances. When they ate together, just themselves, it was as if the food itself became part of the symphony of their lovemaking. One feast leading into the next.

She was a banquet he would never tire of. He understood that too well.

He was so busy thinking about all the ways he’d had her the night before, and plotting how he planned to have her tonight, that he missed the start of whatever conversation his mother and Dioni had begun.

But he certainly heard the sharpness in Marcella’s tone as she leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at Alceu’s wife.

“You cannot possibly be so naive, child,” she said in her purring, nasty way. “I assume it must be an act, or I can only fear for you.” She waved a hand, her talons painted in a dark red that matched her lips. “Do you truly imagine that this honeymoon of yours is the marriage? You must know better. Do you think you signed all those papers for the fun of it? If you leave him—and you will long to—you take nothing. Not even the children you bear. That is how they keep you.”

“Mother, please,” Alceu began.

But Dioni was leaning forward too, her dark eyes intent on his mother. “That is very true, Marcella,” she said in her quiet way. “A mother’s love knows no bounds. She will put up with anything, won’t she, for the love of her child—never thinking of herself at all.”

“Do you think to shame me?” Marcella laughed. “You have no idea what I feel for my son. Or what I have suffered in this family. I could have chosen any man in Europe. Princes fought for my hand. I gave up athronefor this vicious little family, so don’t you tell me abouta mother’s love.”

“That is enough,” Alceu ordered her.

Marcella turned to him then, her eyes narrowed, but he could see the hint of glee in them. Because though she enjoyed claiming herself the victim in all things, what she truly loved was this.

The opportunity to show she was as vicious as any other Vaccaro.

---