Page 115 of Modern Romance December 2025 1-4

Of course she knew about Fotis’ past. But, dazzled by her feelings, she’d managed to shuck off a lifetime’s insecurity and think she could help him move on. That they’d have each other’s backs so together they could cast away the shadows of the past.

Thatshe’dbe enough for him as he was enough for her.

What were you thinking, girl?

The contemptuous voice was her father’s, the sneer as vivid as if he stood there, glowering at her.

Her life had been a series of lessons in not being good enough. She’d never been able to satisfy her father’s high standards. As for having a manloveher…

Fotis said something, his voice low, but she didn’t hear it over the rush of blood in her ears. She folded her arms tight around her body, failing to hold in the pain.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible but she felt worse than she ever had. Worse than her father had ever made her feel, or her first, deceitful lover. Worse than when the press portrayed her in the worst possible light. She felt as bad as when she’d lost her mother.

Because no one could inflict hurt as severe as someone you loved.

That’s why Fotis doesn’t want a relationship. He doesn’t want that pain.

She understood, but he had no right to make her feel like this. And yet she loved him. Loved, and at this moment almost hated him.

Rosamund turned, surprised to find him so close, hands dropping to his sides as if he’d been reaching for her.

Even now her imagination tried to paint the picture she wanted instead of facing the truth.

‘I had you wrong.’ Pain prompted the words. ‘If someone asked me for a word to describe you, I’d have said strong. But you’re not, are you? You’re a coward. You want to stay in your eyrie, cut off from people because you’re scared of loving. Do you think your father and brother would have wanted that?’

His head rocked back as if from a slap. He looked dazed, then his eyes narrowed to slits of blistering fire and his nostrils flared. ‘Don’t bring my family into this!’

‘I—’

‘Don’t talk to me about fear and hiding. You’re proud of living the life you say you want, but are youreallydoing that?’ His voice was unrelenting. ‘That last day in France we went out to lunch so you could show the world you were unfazed by the attack, enjoying yourself with your boyfriend at your side. You were so concerned about projecting an image you didn’t even give yourself time to recover from the shock of the attack. Time you needed. You’re not in control, you’re running scared.’

His expression softened to something that looked almost like pity. Her stomach spasmed. She didn’t want his pity.

‘You’rehiding, Rosa. Letting your dead father and the press dictate how you live. You worry about the image you project instead of living your life. You’d rather let the world think you’re a dilettante, living off the royal purse, than tell people about your work.’ He paused. ‘But you’re strong, when you choose to be. You don’t need me to lean on.’

For the longest time she was incapable of speaking.

Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have believed today would see them hurting each other like this, ripping away protective layers and inflicting such pain.

She shoved her hands into her pockets where he couldn’t see them shake. ‘Don’t worry, Fotis. That’s one lesson I learned a long time ago. I don’t need a man to lean on.’

Couldn’t he see this wasn’t about propping herself up but about wanting to share and build together?

‘I don’tneeda man at all.’ Particularly one who didn’t want her. She wanted to say it had been a mistake, she didn’t love him, but couldn’t do it. Her unrequited feelings were too deep to pretend.

She shoved her feet into her discarded sandals, gathering up her gear. But even with her heart crumbling, she couldn’t leave him like this.

‘Take a hard look at your own life, Fotis. You’re not responsible for your brother’s death. It wasn’t your fault. As for believing you can only survive as a recluse…’

She gestured towards the village. ‘You’re not alone. You’ve been forging connections, real connections with other people. Dimitria Politis and her grandfather. Tassos and his wife think the world of you. So do the other villagers.’

Before he could interrupt she continued. ‘Not because you’ve spent money improving the island’s infrastructure. I heard them talk about you.’ Everyone had anecdotes about his quiet acts of kindness, how he got things done, how he listened. Even rare examples of his dry sense of humour. ‘They respect the way you roll up your sleeves and help work. Theylikeyou. You’re not alone, Fotis, whatever you tell yourself. You’ve got people you care about and who care about you. That makes you stronger, not weaker.’

‘Rosa…’ His voice was rough with warning.

She met those ocean-coloured eyes and knew they’d haunt her dreams. Stark emotion welled and she felt that telltale prickle behind her eyes. She’d never see him again.

‘Goodbye, Fotis.’ She spun away. ‘I’ll arrange my own transport.’