Page 59 of Modern Romance December 2025 1-4

‘Lovers.’

That baritone voice remained soft yet that single word made her pulse skitter. She paused, fingers clenching around the handle of the biggest fridge she’d ever seen.

She resumed walking towards the end of the room where sunlight streamed through French doors onto an impressive glass-and-wrought-iron table and cushion-covered chairs.

Rosamund turned to find his eyes on her. Even for a woman used to public scrutiny, his intense regard made her almost self-conscious. ‘As you say, a couple.’

When this man was involved she much preferred ‘couple’ to ‘lovers’.

‘So.’ She focused on essentials. ‘We’ll be seen in public together. Are you coming to every event? I can give you the schedule.’ Now she’d broken her silence she couldn’t seem to stop.

‘I have it and yes, wherever you go I’ll be there.’

That should have reassured, considering what she’d heard about Ricardo and his nasty ways. Yet it sounded more like a challenge, even a threat, than a promise.

She was about to ask if he had appropriate clothes for the formal events but stopped the urge to babble. A man who conjured a multi-million-dollar luxury home in Paris could manage formal clothes.

She folded her arms, waiting for him to speak. Had he brought her here to discuss how to go about convincing people they were a couple?

Heat detonated low inside as she recalled her body’s instantaneous, disturbing response to his.

To counter it she reminded herself they simply needed to be seen together. Public speculation and the voracious paparazzi would see to the rest.

They wouldn’t attend events where public displays of affection were required. The most she’d have to do would be stand close and smile at him.

That could be a problem. She doubted if he knew how to smile back.

But Rosamund didn’t really care if people believed the fiction. She refused even to note the stories the press ran about her and her apparent multitude of partners. Her lip curled and a tiny snort of disgust escaped.

His stare sharpened, his nostrils flaring as if in distaste. ‘You have something to say? Something you want to get off your chest?’

As if she needed to explain herself to him!

‘Nothing at all.’ Suddenly fatigue swamped her. It had been a long day after a series of long days and the emotional strain of anticipating the next few days took its toll. She was both eager for this event and dreading it. ‘Can you show me to my room?’

‘Of course. I just thought you should know where the kitchen was. Security staff will monitor the premises but you won’t see them. Otherwise there’s no staff. You need to know where the food is so you can prepare your meals.’

Alone in this lovely house, free to keep her own hours when she wasn’t attending an event? Despite the headache she’d fought since landing, Rosamund smiled. She could imagine herself breakfasting on the sun-drenched patio. ‘Excellent. I’ll enjoy that. Thank you.’

Rosamund surveyed the place she was to sleep for the next several nights. Tall-ceilinged and elegantly furnished, it managed to be welcoming despite the grandeur of both the sitting area and bedroom. A luxurious, modern bathroom was visible through an open door.

‘It’s a beautiful suite.’

She didn’t care about the antiques or the grandeur. With pain now humming in her temples and growing by the minute, all she cared about was that bed. She imagined lying down and finally closing her eyes.

When she was alone.

She turned, and noticed another door. ‘What’s through there?’

She’d already turned the handle when Fotis Mavridis said, ‘My room.’

Rosamund spun around, grateful for her hold on the doorknob when the world kept spinning and pain notched higher.

‘You said I’d be here alone!’

He stood just inside her doorway, feet apart, hands folded across his broad chest, watching. She refused to admit it but she was beginning to find that too-steady gaze getting on her nerves.

Stupid when she’d spent her life under scrutiny. But this felt different.