Page 37 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

And it was a gift, Dioni thought, to lose herself in something other than her own worries and daydreams and fears, for a change.

“You have always been the most optimistic person,” Jolie said much, much later. “It’s inspiring. I have to imagine that this might all work out all right.”

“For you, I’m sure it will.” Dioni shook her head. “What I worry is that Alceu truly believes that he’s a villain. No matter what he does, he is certain that his true nature will take hold.”

Hadn’t she seen it earlier? In that fatalistic manner he’d adopted, as if hewantedApostolis to take a swing at him? Or would not have been surprised if he had?

It had her skin feeling too tight, all over.

“I’m no expert on the subject,” her friend said after a moment. “But what I can tell you about love—or what I know of it in the short time I’ve experienced it—is that it must be built on forgiveness or it is something else entirely. I don’t mean that if he is hideous you should bear that. I mean thathemust forgive himself. For whatever he imagines he has done or might do, just as you must do the same. Just as all of us must see ourselves in the mirror and understand the truth we’re looking at. Because I think, in the end, that’s what intimacy demands. We must see ourselves to truly see each other.”

And Dioni told herself there was no reason for that notion to make her want to sob again, for hours.

There was no sign of Apostolis or Alceu, so as night fell, Dioni took Jolie out into the bright green courtyard that took on a deeper emerald in the last of the light. And they ate their dinner there, while the stars slowly came into view. They talked late into the night, the way they had in school and the way they had sometimes when they’d lived at the hotel together.

The way Dioni had believed, in New York, they never would again.

As if they could do as they pleased. As if there was nothing but time.

As if the only thing that mattered was the joy they took in each other’s company, the stories they told, and the space they held for each other.

“Like sisters,” she said, leaning back to look at the Milky Way sprawled out above them.

“Like sisters,” Jolie agreed, pressing her shoulder to Dioni’s.

And so, by the time she found her way to bed, Dioni felt brand-new.

Remade.

More than capable of finally telling her husband that she loved him, like it or not.

Assuming, of course, that Apostolis hadn’t killed him before she could.

CHAPTER NINE

ALCEULETAPOSTOLISrant at him for a long while.

There was something freeing about it. Liberating, even—because there was no one else who would dare. He couldn’t think of the last time anyone had tried.

That kind of shouting had died with his father, long ago.

Alceu found himself bracing for impact. Would Apostolis take a swing at him? Would he throw something? He was pacing up and down the length of Alceu’s office and he certainly had the opportunity.

Maybe there was a part of him—and not a small part—that wanted it. The bright burst of sensation, of pain. Blood and bone, adrenaline and temper.

Those were things he would not hate himself for feeling, he thought.

But Apostolis never lunged for him.

And when his friend finally wound down, Alceu simply poured him a whiskey, took a pull of his own, and said nothing.

“It this how it is to be?” Apostolis asked then. “You plan to simply stand there, offering no defense for your behavior?”

“And if I did offer some kind of defense, what would that look like?” Alceu studied his friend. “Do you wish for me to express regret that I married your sister? That would indicate that it was some kind of terrible mistake. When the woman we are discussing will shortly become the mother of my child and I do not think you would care for it if I had not made her my wife.” When Apostolis glared at him, he sighed. “Do you really wish to discuss the details of what happened between your sister and me, Apostolis? Is that truly what you want?”

“It is not.”

They sat in silence for some time after that.

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