Page 81 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

I move to my balcony. Sadness seeps in as I look out over Paris one last time, knowing tomorrow my view will not be of terra-cotta chimneys and lattice balconies, but of an impossibly blue sea and thick-branched olive trees standing guard on rocky cliffs.

But beneath the sadness is a restless excitement. I know Rafe can’t offer me anything beyond this. We are destined to live separate lives. But right now, he wants me, too. And I intend to take everything he’s offering.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rafe

IWATCHTESSAout of the corner of my eye as I walk her through the massive living space on the first floor of my villa in Corfu. Since we left Paris, with a quick stop by her apartment for her to pack, her tension has noticeably increased.

Her smile slipped as we boarded the private plane at Charles de Gaulle. Her hands gripped the armrests of her seat as we took off. My few attempts to engage her in conversation about her business fell short as she murmured half answers and kept her gaze on the window. When my pilot announced that we were getting ready to descend into Corfu, her lips thinned into a line. Her expression didn’t alter on the limo ride through Corfu, even as we passed elegant Venetian mansions with soaring arched windows and the long, pillared portico of the Palace of St. Michael.

Even now, as she glances around the luxurious surroundings of what will be her new home for at least a couple weeks, she looks trapped. Hunted.

I don’t regret many things. Regret has no place in business. It is one of the few, perhaps the only, useful lesson Lucifer taught me. As I watch Tessa’s eyes dart around the room, as if she’s seeking an escape, she reminds me of a frightened animal about to leap away.

When I envisioned our arrangement, I pictured taking my time, introducing her to the pleasures of sex while I dictated the direction of our affair. It gave me an opportunity to wrestle back some of the control she’d taken from me by negotiating such an incredible clause.

Yet seeing her like this, I realize I underestimated the impact it would have on her. I don’t fully understand her reasons for hating it so much. But I don’t need to. Her reasons are her own. Just like when I make a decision, I don’t owe anyone an explanation. Being CEO means I get to make the decisions.

“I can have the plane take you back to Paris.”

She whips her head around. “No.” She exhales slowly. “Honestly, this is good for me.”

“It doesn’t look good.”

Her laugh sounds forced. “Probably not. But I can’t go my whole life avoiding the fact that I spent almost my entire existence here.”

I know the sensation she’s describing. It’s the same one I experienced the day Lucifer’s secretary called to let me know he had passed. Except unlike Tessa, I have yet to find a purpose in that freedom. Perhaps it’s too late for me. Forty-one years is a very long time.

She turns to face me then. Her face is determined, her breathing more even.

“I will make this work.”

I’m struck by the stark difference between the woman in front of me now and the young woman I knew before our wedding. The one who watched the world go by with a sad hunger that pulled at me, tempted me to reach out when no one else had come close to making me feel anything.

But the woman my wife has become doesn’t need me to seek her out and keep her company. She’s thriving on her own. A notion that stirs both admiration and that distant sense of loss.

“I trust you’ll inform me if you start to feel differently.” At her nod, I move toward the hallway. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”

I take her on a tour of the villa, pointing out features like the massive kitchen, the library, the terrace with the infinity pool that looks out over the sea. As a child, I despised Lucifer’s grandiose spending. But as we move through massive doorways and utilize one of several elevators, I’m grateful for it. As I watch Tessa out of the corner of my eye, I get a small glimpse of the world she’s grown up in. One she’s now trying to change through her work.

A small smile tugs at my lips. I already knew her to be a kind woman. But knowing she’s resilient, determined, and is using that kindness to benefit others stirs a deep pride. One I’ve never felt for anyone or anything in my life.

We continue down the hall toward the eastern end of the villa, stopping in front of a pair of white doors.

“Welcome.”

Her eyes widen as I open the doors. White walls gleam against the contrast of a slatted wood ceiling with exposed beams. A four-poster bed sits against one wall, angled toward double glass doors on the other side of the room that open out to a private balcony with a soaking tub and stunning views of the sea. A bright blue fainting couch sits in an alcove on the far side of the room with a bay of windows behind it and views of the olive groves.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Coming from an interior designer, I consider that an especially high compliment.”

She flashes a smile at me. “You’re welcome.” She moves into the room, navigating her wheelchair with ease. “Where is your room?” The words are barely out of her mouth before a blush stains her cheeks.

“I stay on the second floor. There’s an elevator at the end of this hall if you’re using your wheelchair.”

She frowns. “Is the master suite not on the bottom floor?”

---