Page 70 of Modern Romance December 2025 1-4

Rosamund’s heart jerked hard against her ribs and she felt a betraying flutter low inside, but frowned and said, ‘He’s my bodyguard! He supposed to keep an eye on me.’

Lucie’s voice softened. ‘You’re not as good an actor as your mother,cherie. But if you don’t want to talk about it…’

She didn’t. For some reason Fotis Mavridis loathed her. It was shaming to admit, even to herself, but she could neither fully reciprocate that feeling, nor conjure total disinterest.

‘What are you looking at out there?’

She knew the view beyond the net curtain was of cracked concrete and overgrown wasteland.

‘Come and see for yourself.’

Reluctantly, she crossed the small room to look through the opaque curtains.

Fotis wasn’t waiting in an attitude of boredom or intent alertness. He was dribbling a basketball, weaving between a gang of teenagers before passing it to a huge youth with dreadlocks who shot it into a lopsided basketball hoop.

A ragged cheer went up and a smaller kid dashed in and grabbed the ball. Fotis cut a glance towards the flat then away, joining the ragtag group as it chased up the makeshift court.

Rosamund and Lucie watched for several minutes. The game was quick and the rules flexible and she was fascinated to see that while the locals gave no quarter, nor did they deliberately jostle the outsider. They accepted him.

Every couple of minutes he turned to look at the flat, clearly checking she didn’t need him. Then he’d immerse himself in the game. Watching him move was a treat. He was agile and fast. She noticed he also shared the ball, including with the slower, less talented kids.

‘You’re right,’ she murmured. ‘Not such a prig after all.’ Just with her. What had she done to warrant the judgemental attitude?

‘Don’t you have another event to prepare for?’

Rosamund dragged her attention from the action outside. ‘Are you attending? I could collect you—’

‘Not my scene. It never was. I was happy behind the cameras but not in the limelight. Now…’ Lucie’s suddenly stern voice brooked no opposition. ‘It’s time you left. I can see you haven’t been sleeping. You’ll need extra time with the concealer before tonight.’

Rosamund rolled her eyes, torn between a smile and chagrin that it was so obvious. But then Lucie was an expert. ‘Yes, ma’am. Any other tips?’

‘Only one.’ The older woman reached up for a hug and squeezed tight. Rosamund returned it fervently. ‘Stop tormenting yourself and sleep with the man. He mightn’t be perfect, no man is, but I’d like to see you with a real sparkle in your eyes again.’

‘You’re very quiet.’ His deep voice broke the silence.

Rosamund lifted one shoulder and watched the pedestrians strolling down the now tree-lined streets, so different from Lucie’s neighbourhood. More than once she’d offered to help her find a new place but she’d refused, insisting the flat was home and she didn’t want to leave.

‘I could say the same to you.’

Tired of her circling thoughts, she turned to watch him drive. His dark hair was rumpled and there was a faint sheen to his olive skin, making her wonder if it would taste salty on the tongue.

Biting down a snatched sigh, she squeezed her thighs together, trying to ignore the thoughts Lucie’s frank advice had unleashed. And the melting sensation between her legs.

For the last fifteen minutes she hadn’t been able to eradicate thoughts of what it would be like to sleep with Fotis Mavridis.

Sleep! That’s the last thing you want to do with him.

Lucie was right about one thing. Rosamund was attuned to him. He’d insisted on holding the car door open for her, which meant she’d passed close by him. The faintest tang of fresh male sweat and hot man lingered even now in her nostrils, teasing her. He smelled better than any cologne, better even than sunshine on mown grass or freshly baked bread.

She swallowed hard, again pushing away thoughts of licking his skin, tasting his mouth.

Maybe she should take Lucie’s advice. Butnotwith Fotis Mavridis. She wasn’t masochistic enough to make herself vulnerable to a man who held her in contempt.

Though, now she thought about it, the look in his eyes as she’d moved past him into the four-wheel-drive hadn’t been contempt. Nor had it been boredom. She’d felt the weight of his regard in every feminine corner of her body. Felt it again now as he cast her a sidelong look from narrowed eyes.

Heat shimmered in the air between them.

You’re imagining things just because Lucie thought—