Page 81 of Modern Romance December 2025 1-4

‘Stay back!’ His head whipped around to check she was okay. The other man wasn’t. She heard incoherent sobbing from where he huddled on the ground against the van. ‘Don’t come closer but call an ambulance and the police.’

With shaking hands she pulled out her phone. She was aware of Fotis bending over the man and was happy to keep back. There was a strange smell in the air and that terrible, unnerving keening that sounded more animal than human.

The police must have been cruising the neighbourhood because soon cars appeared, washing the scene in lurid light.

People in uniforms crowded around, medics as well as police and over their heads Fotis watched her even as he spoke to them. She stood metres away, hands twisting together, heart still racing.

Someone had tried to attack them, attack her, and Fotis had saved her. Was he hurt? He didn’t look it but she couldn’t be sure. She started forward but he moved faster, murmuring something to the uniformed officer beside him then striding across to her. In the distance she saw other officers holding back a straggle of onlookers, some with phones raised.

‘Come on, I’m taking you to the hotel. The police have agreed we can give a statement later.’

His jacket was gone, his shirt pale in the gloom as he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. His warmth seeped into her and she burrowed close, so weak with relief that she trembled. Because he was okay. She kept reliving the moments of the struggle and her fear he’d be hurt.

A few vehicles away he bundled her into the car then took the driver’s seat.

The interior light revealed his grim expression. She’d thought she’d seen him angry in the past but nothing before compared to this. Nostrils flared, mouth hard, the angle of his jaw screamed danger. He looked like some ancient god of war, indestructible and lethal.

But it wasn’t his fury that stopped her breath. ‘Don’t shut the door!’ She needed to see.

‘What’s wrong?’ His gaze fixed on her.

Rosamund pointed at his shirtsleeve. The pristine white was marred by marks. Red marks. She stared, trying to make sense of what she saw. It took long seconds to realise they weren’t stains smattered across the sleeve but holes. And through the holes, bloody flesh was visible.

‘Fotis?’ Her voice wasn’t her own. ‘What’s that? You need to get it treated.’

He pulled the door closed and the light went off. ‘Once I’ve seen you safely back to the room.’

He reached forward to start the ignition but she stopped him, her hand on his shoulder. ‘Tell me what that is.’ Her stomach churned, imagining the pain he must be in. The wounds were small but looked painfully raw.

‘Tomorrow. I—’

‘Now, or I march back there and get an answer from the police.’

A rough sigh broke the silence. When he spoke his voice was preternaturally calm. ‘Some sort of acid. He had a canister of it.’

Bile rose in Rosamund’s throat and she wondered if she might vomit. Her heart thundered in her ears and all her organs seemed to writhe in protest.

Someone, presumably sent by Brad Ricardo, had lain in wait for her with a canister of acid. Wanting to maim or maybe kill her.

Because of that Fotis was injured and undoubtedly in pain, despite his macho effort not to show it.

Her eyes squeezed shut. He was lucky he hadn’t taken the full brunt of the acid. She assumed that in the melee it had spilled over their attacker.

‘It’s all right, Rosamund.’ His voice was a rich, soothing velvet caress. ‘Everything’s okay.’

She shook her head, reeling. How could he think that? Why had she insisted on walking with him to the car? Because of her…

Her eyes snapped open to see him leaning in. She wanted to haul him close and not let him go. Instead she swallowed over the aching constriction in her throat and tried to find her voice.

‘I’m sorry, Fotis. I wouldn’t have had this happen to you for the world.’

‘It’s okay—’

‘I can’t thank you enough for protecting me.’ She dragged in an unsteady breath. ‘But don’t patronise me.’ She heard her voice wobble and sat straighter. ‘It’s not okay. Nothing like it. Now…’ She reached to unbuckle her seat belt. ‘We’re going back. I’m not leaving until a medic checks you out.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE DAY DAWNEDbright and clear, sunlight shimmering on the ocean from a sky of perfect cerulean blue. As if bad things couldn’t happen here.