Page 108 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

“Oh, really?” She set her fist in the middle of his chest and propped her chin on it, sprawling even more fully across him.

“And yet you got all of that out of me.” He could see now how she’d brought up the topic and asked an innocuous question to give him space to fill. Isn’t that hilarious? “You’re very sneaky.”

“I prefer devious. It sounds more intelligent. Ground squirrels are sneaky. I have the potential to be a supervillain.”

“You do. It’s terrifying.” He smoothed her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you.” Her eyes were alight with humor and self-satisfaction.

A cascade of emotions stole through him—laughter and admiration along with a deep sense that she was becoming essential to him.

That thought caused a shift inside him, one that sent a chill of threat into his chest.

“We should go for a swim,” he said.

Some of the sparkle left her expression. She sensed he was withdrawing, but she sat up and began to gather their untouched picnic back into her bag.

“You didn’t even eat what I brought you,” she scolded.

“I think I did,” he countered as he tossed her underwear at her.

She smirked and pulled them on beneath her dress.

When there was no trace of their tryst except a patch of crushed grass, they walked back to the villa.

“Do you think having this much sex is healthy?” Carmel asked later that afternoon, when they were settled in their favorite shady corner of the pool.

Lethe usually went home for a few hours after lunch before coming back to make dinner so they were always comfortable canoodling in the privacy of the walled terrace. Carmel was balanced on Damian’s knee, one arm looped around his neck for balance, lips pressed to the cleft in his damp chin.

“I think this much sex requires a robust constitution. We must both possess one.” He tugged at the string on her top, releasing the bow behind her neck.

“Don’t fancy it up. Call us the degenerates we are.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Maybe it’s like that thing bears do.” She lifted her arm so he could reach behind her for the catch against her spine. “When they’re compelled to eat nonstop before they sleep for six months.”

He froze. Their stares locked as she referenced that their time together was finite. They had only five more days. Four, since they were traveling to Athens on Sunday.

“You sure as hell aren’t letting me sleep now , are you?” he said, abiding by their unspoken agreement to keep things light.

Below the water, her top floated loose, sinking between them while he slid his palm into the back of her bikini bottoms.

“Oh, poor baby,” she mocked, arching and trailing her kisses into his throat. “And I hear so many complaints—”

“Carmel.” His tone became abruptly serious. His hand left her bottoms and he stretched his arm across her back, holding her against him in a more sheltering way. “Did you call him?” he asked under his breath.

“Who?” She twisted to follow his gaze over her shoulder, but it wasn’t easy. Damian was holding her so her naked torso stayed hidden against his own.

Her arteries jolted with guilty discovery as she saw Atlas and Stella coming through the arched opening that gave access to the path along the side of the villa.

“Oh, shoot.” She fished for her bikini top and tried to get the cups in place while Damian gave her very little room to maneuver.

“You are here!” Stella smiled brightly from beneath her black cat’s-eye sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat. “When no one answered the door, we weren’t sure, but wanted to check.”

They were a spectacularly beautiful couple. Atlas was tall and fit and looked like he worked for MI5 in those mirrored aviators. He was dressed as casually as it was possible for him to get, which meant he wore tailored almond-brown shorts and a crisp, short-sleeved buttoned shirt with a stripe.

Stella was nearly as tall as her husband and possessed a figure that broke necks. Her golden-blond hair sat in a long, fishtail braid against the front of her shoulder, and her chic, floral dress clung to her curves as she moved.

Carmel glanced at Damian, certain he would be checking out Stella, but the angle of his sunglasses suggested he was studying Atlas. He released her with reluctance as she finished securing her top and rolled off his lap to kick herself to the ladder.

“Why on earth would you come all this way when you could call or text?” Carmel asked as she climbed out of the water.

“Because you’re not replying to my calls and texts.” Atlas looked to the view beyond the wall while she pulled her pale pink crocheted cover-up over her head.

Damian came out of the pool behind her and took the towel Carmel handed him.

“I did ask for privacy, if you recall,” she said. “How did you know where to find me?”

“You leave more breadcrumbs than Hansel and Gretel. My driver dropped you at his building in Athens. The photos from Berlin. The painting you sent to Athens from a gallery here on the island. It wasn’t hard.”

So supercilious. But now she had to anxiously ask Stella, “Did you like it?”

“The painting? I love it so much. Thank you.” Stella rushed forward to embrace her, always holding on for an extra second so Carmel knew she wasn’t just being polite. Stella offered real friendship and affection. “He’s worried,” she whispered before she released her.

“Why would he be worried?” Carmel asked with loud annoyance. “I told you I’m fine. Totally sober. Ha.” She mockingly left her mouth open as though inviting him smell her breath.

“Great,” Atlas said impassively, then switched to Greek. “You must be Carmel’s husband. I’m Atlas Voudouris.” He reached past her to where Damian had wrapped the towel around his waist. “I apologize for turning up unannounced. I need to speak to my sister. This is my wife, Stella.”

“Welcome,” Damian said dryly as he shook Atlas’s hand. “Damian Kalymnios. English is fine.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Stella said warmly as she shook his hand. “I had no idea you were married,” she scolded Carmel in an aside. “Not until Atlas told me when your photos from Berlin came out.”

Carmel winced. “It’s online?”

“The photos are. Not your marriage,” Stella said.

“Then how do you know we’re married?” She looked between them.

“I’ve always known,” Atlas said in his pithy way, as though she ought to have known that he had known.

“Why do you always have to take that tone with me?” she asked with irritation.

“This is my voice. I can’t help that you don’t like it.”

“It makes me want to push you in the pool.”

“Have at it. I know how to swim.”

If she hadn’t tried and failed in the past, she might have given it a shot.

“Oliver told me,” Atlas conceded. He never called their father anything but his first name. “He wanted me to help keep it quiet.”

“Does he know I’m here now?” she asked with concern.

“No. But—”

“Why don’t we let them change into dry clothes.” Stella set her hand on Atlas’s arm. “Rather than make them stand here soaking wet. Damian, would you mind if I help myself to that water?” She pointed at the jug on the table.

“Of course. Make yourself at home,” he said with irony. “We’ll only be a moment.”

“I am so sorry,” Carmel said as she walked with him into the villa.

“It’s fine,” Damian said, sounding impassive, but she could feel him withdrawing even further behind his shields.

She went into her room to slip on a sundress, then met Damian coming out of his room in shorts and a collared T-shirt.

Downstairs, Lethe had just returned and apologized profusely for not being here to greet their guests.

“We weren’t expecting them, but if you could prepare some refreshments?” Damian asked.

“Of course. I’ll be right out.” Lethe hurried to tie on her apron.

“You have a beautiful home,” Stella said to Damian when they returned to the terrace. “Is that a guest cottage over there? The garden looks beautiful.”

“My grandmother lives there.”

“Zoia,” Carmel stated. “She rests in the afternoons, but I’ll introduce you before you go. She’s already a fan of yours.” She flicked her hand at Atlas.

“Please sit,” Damian said as Lethe came out with glasses and a jug of the citrus and honey flavored agora Carmel had begun splashing into her water. “Did you fly or come in by ferry?” he asked.

“We’re on our yacht. We didn’t want to be in Athens when the news broke.” Atlas glanced at Stella then said to Carmel, “Oliver’s likely to be charged with DWI.”

“What! What happened? Is he hurt? Did he hurt anyone? Why was he even driving? Where was Costa?”

Atlas raised a hand and Carmel stopped blurting questions so he could explain.

“No one else was involved. Oliver bought himself a Jaguar. It arrived yesterday so he drove out to see Woodley in Oxfordshire. After imbibing through lunch, he stopped at every pub he could find on his way home.”

“Why?” she asked with annoyed disbelief. “To show off?”

“Does it matter?” Atlas shrugged. “The point is, a lot of people saw him enjoying a pint. He rolled the car into a ditch around midnight, but managed to walk away with some bruises and a mild concussion. He called Costa to pick him up and get him home, but he was so drunk, Costa thought he might be having a stroke. He took him to the hospital. While he was there, the car was spotted. Oliver was still inebriated when the police came to question him. That’s when he called his lawyer who called me. ”

“Where is he now? Home? Or still in hospital?”

“The clinic. To show he’s addressing his problem,” Atlas said with heavy sarcasm.

“You mean to hide from paparazzi.” Daddy wouldn’t seek actual help. His daughter might have a drinking problem, but that was because she was weak. He was perfect in every way. The world ought to arrange itself to recognize that.

“I wanted to tell you before we released the statement, but I want to stay ahead of it so…” He took out his phone and tapped briefly before pocketing it again.

“Have you talked to him? How was he?” she asked.

“The usual.”