Page 86 of Modern Romance December 2025 1-4

‘But,’ she said as he opened his mouth, ‘I’ll consider going with you to Greece.’

No! This is a mistake.

She silenced the warning voice in her head. Just as she ignored her illicit thrill at the idea of going to Greece with him. Last night she’d told herself parting from him was necessary. Today her willpower had seriously fractured. The thought of leaving him filled her with dread.

Those winged, black eyebrows lifted. ‘You’ll consider it?’

‘On one condition. First, we go to the hospital and get your arm checked properly, not by the house doctor here, but by an expert. Then—’

‘That’s two conditions.’

‘Live with it, Fotis. This is non-negotiable.’ She waited until he inclined his head. ‘Secondly, we lunch today at a venue of my choice. Not here in the hotel but somewhere public.’

He frowned. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said about possible danger?’

‘I heard it and I have no intention of putting either of us at risk. At the same time, I hate that Brad Ricardo is affecting what I can and can’t do. That he’s hurt you—’

‘I’ll recover. As for what you can do, it’s not for much longer. The police will find the connection between last night’s attacker and Ricardo. He’ll pay, I promise you.’

Warmth spread as his words sank deep. She heard his sincerity, read it in the determined angle of his jaw and the promise in his eyes.

‘I believe you. But this isn’t just about Ricardo. It’s about having my actions dictated by others. I refuse to let that man, or the press, force me to cower in a hotel suite, no matter how luxurious. I want to show them, and myself, that I make my own choices. I’m not running scared.’

It was how she operated. In her teens she’d struggled to cope with the outpouring of negativity from her father and the press. The stories they’d printed, most pure fiction, had made her cringe and retreat into herself.

Until she realised she was building a prison for herself. That was when she’d decided to live up to her father’s expectations, for a few months seeking out scandalous parties just to annoy him. But it wasn’t what she wanted, just bravado in the face of deep hurt and loneliness.

That was a long time ago. Since then she’d carved her own life, undertaking royal duties but mainly concentrating on her own work. It was a matter of pride to put on a public face and ignore the negative comments, especially when she attended high-profile events. She mightn’t read the gossip but she heard enough to know she was still fair game for the press. She wouldn’t,couldn’tstop now. Because hiding equated to weakness and she’d vowed always to be strong when it came to the press.

She drew a deep breath. ‘Those are my conditions. A hospital check, a session with the police, then lunch out.’

From his grim expression she expected an argument, if not downright refusal. So it felt ridiculously like a victory when he inclined his head.

Several hours later they were seated at the premier table in the Riviera’s most exclusive restaurant. Of course they’d had no trouble getting a table. Set apart from the other diners, they were on an expansive terrace with a phenomenal view of the Côte d’Azur. Below the terrace an unscalable wall dropped to the road below. They were safe from intruders.

A crowd of photographers had followed them from their hotel to the hospital, then a growing number from the hospital to the restaurant. Plain-clothed security guards had held the crowd back as she and Fotis entered the building.

Rosamund had kept her chin up as she stepped from the car, confident in a stunning blue dress that brought out the colour in her eyes.

It was only when Fotis leaned close and whispered, ‘Don’t look so fierce,’ that she’d remembered to smile.

After that, it was easy to play her part, for he’d looped his arm around her hip and drawn her close. It had been the most natural thing in the world to snuggle up to him, the shouts of photographers blurring into white noise.

Now he sat relaxed, watching her over the remains of his dessert. He was resplendent in a tailored jacket and trousers with an open shirt of pale aquamarine that made his skin look like bronze, his eyes like the sea.

‘Was it worth it? Coming here?’

She shrugged. Perhaps it seemed petty to him, her need to show herself uncowed. But the attack on him last night had left her feeling close to undone. Today’s outing might be symbolic but it was important to her. In her experience, appearing strong was the first step to being strong.

‘Absolutely. Not just because of the press. I’ve enjoyed our meal. Thanks for coming with me.’

The food had been superb but the company had made it special. It was the first time they’d shared a meal and it had been remarkably easy. The conversation had been engaging, never awkward, and she felt more relaxed than she had in days. In fact, the meal she’d planned as a defiant gesture had turned into a delight.

‘My pleasure.’ His half-smile warmed her as they left the table, detouring across the terrace and pausing to admire the view. ‘So, Greece?’

Rosamund turned to find him a breath away. Her pulse galloped.

He didn’t look like a man who saw her as a responsibility. The hot glint in his eyes didn’t signal detached professionalism. It matched the hunger that roared through her blood, a suddenly unstoppable force.