Page 155 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

“Let’s go somewhere private to discuss this.”

They took the elevator to the top floor. It let them out in a sitting room with a wall of windows that gave access to a private balcony overlooking the lake. Through a pair of double doors, she glimpsed the wide bed he’d slept in last night. His room was tidy as a pin, so she assumed the staff had come in while they’d been out.

He closed the glass doors to the landing, giving them more privacy before he offered, “Drink?”

“I feel like you might have had one too many over lunch.” She sank down on the moss-green love seat.

“Snowmobiles are as dangerous as motorcycles. I drank water.” He poured scotch. Two of them. “A week is not enough, Stella. We need more time.”

“For what?!”

His one brow went up in a silentShall I spell it out?He offered the glass.

She blushed as she accepted it. “I told you I’m not holding out for marriage.”

“I know, but marriage has become something I want. Today, Rafael confirmed my suspicion that Oliver is the biggest detriment to DVE’s progress. Now I know how urgently we need a regime change. The board is aware of his shortcomings, but they want him to step down gracefully, which Oliver promised to do if I married Iris. They don’t want to put another skirt-chaser in charge. This…” He waved between them. “If we have an affair, it makes me look just like him, but if you and I marry, I become a faithful, domesticated husband.”

“Ha!” As if.

“Oliver cheated on his wife with my mother, Stella,” he said gravely. “I would never do that to you.”

She would love to believe that, but it was all too far-fetched. Rather than push back on that, however, she asked something she had always wondered.

“Why do you always call him Oliver?”

“Spite.” His tone was pleasantly lethal. “It’s my petty way of reminding him that he behaved like a bastard first. That he made me what I am.”

“Does he call you that?” she asked, appalled.

“I don’t care what he calls me,” he said, but she suspected there was real pain behind the scoff in his voice. “The truth is, I’ve been known to live down to his labels.”

“Is ‘reckless’ one of them? Because this sounds very impulsive, Atlas. Outrageous, even.”

“It’s not.” He looked up from his drink. “In the past, I only had affairs with women who weren’t interested in marriage because I knew it was something I would have to do for practical reasons. This is the most expedient reason of all—dethroning Oliver.”

Wow. Some tiny part of her had wondered if he had begun developing real feelings for her in the short time they’d known each other, something that went beyond passion and a sense of obligation. How pathetic of her to imagine such a thing.

“I will also need an heir and a spare,” he continued. “Until I saw you with the baby today, I’ve never pictured myself having kids with anyone, but—”

“Stop.” She covered her face, appalled by how hurt she was and not wanting him to see it.

“It’s the perfect solution, Stella.”

“For who?” she cried. “What if I don’t want to have your babies, Atlas? What if I want to have a career? Did you think of that?”

“You don’t want a family? Ever?” He cocked his head with curiosity. “You seemed really taken with that baby.”

“Holding a baby for two minutes is not the same as raising one. Looking after children ishard.”

“That’s the voice of experience?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. After my mother died I had to look after my brother and sister.” She didn’t want to get into that bleak time, though, and rose to pace off her agitation. “I told you I’m still helping my stepmother. My sister is still at home, along with the twins Grettina had with my father. One of them has special needs, so she can only work part-time. My brother pitches in where he can, but he’s at uni. Once he gets his engineering degree and gets a job, he’ll be able to help out more, but for now it’s on me to close the gaps in the finances and help with homework over the tablet or find a specialist if one is needed. That’s enough responsibility, thank you. I don’t need a baby on my hip while I do all of that.”

“Your father doesn’t help?”

“No,” she said starkly. “In fact, half the time, I support him, too.”

“Men who don’t look after their children is my Achilles’ heel. How much does your stepmother need to take the pressure off? I can hire people to ensure she’s not stretched so thin.”

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