Page 93 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

CHAPTER THREE

“Y AYA ,” D AMIAN SPOKE in Greek as he escorted Carmel through the door of the cottage. “This is Carmel. She has agreed to stay and work on our—”

Carmel caught the word schési , but knew it wasn’t marriage .

“My grandmother, Zoia,” he said, switching to English. “I told her we’re going to work on our relationship.”

“Ah.” Apparently, he didn’t like lying outright to his grandmother, either. “It’s nice to meet you.” Carmel made herself attempt the language, even though her accent was appalling. She hurried across before Zoia could rise. “Please sit.”

“You speak Greek?” Zoia smiled with surprised pleasure. She wore glasses and a dark blue dress with a light cardigan and slippers. Her iron-gray hair was swept back into a knot. Her sharp gaze and reserved, assessing demeanor made Carmel aware of all her crimes against the woman’s grandson.

“Very little.” Carmel pressed the woman’s soft, cool hand gently between her own. “How are you?”

“Much better now that Damian has brought you to meet me. Finally.”

“Carmel will stay with me until you go to Athens for your surgery,” Damian said. “You’ll have lots of time to get to know her, so you can rest until dinner.”

“What happens after my surgery?” Zoia asked him.

“We’ll see,” Damian said mildly.

“Humph.” Zoia’s gaze moved between them, weighing whether she was being snowed, but her lunch was ready so she waved them out.

“Since when do you speak Greek?” Damian asked as they walked across to his villa.

“That’s generous,” she said dryly, considering she’d butchered every word.

“My brother’s mother was Greek. I was always afraid he was talking about me behind my back so I learned enough to eavesdrop.

You’ll be shocked to hear that I had an exaggerated sense of my importance.

He never said one thing about me. Oh, this is lovely. ”

They walked through a stone archway into a shaded courtyard that accessed a side entrance into the house. Inside, the staff had opened the series of glass doors off the living room onto the walled terrace and pool.

The decor was white and bright, with accents of blue and yellow. The floors were an earthy stone, and contemporary paintings hung on the walls. The furniture was tasteful and comfortable. Inviting.

She caught him watching her take it in. “This is the property you were trying to buy when we met.”

“Yes.” His expression hardened. He cast a critical eye around the space. “I renovated so Zoia would have a suite here, but she’s been in the cottage since she married and prefers it. Ah, here’s Lethe.”

A middle-aged woman in a simple beige dress came down the stairs and offered a polite smile.

“Lethe keeps the house running.” He switched to Greek so the other woman would understand.

“Lethe’s husband is my estate manager. You met Pirro when we arrived.

This is Carmel. She’ll be staying in the room next to mine.

We’ll have lunch by the pool when it’s ready and dinner with Zoia in the gazebo.

Before you do anything else, will you sweep the house for alcohol and put it in the wine cellar? Don’t serve any with meals.”

“Of course. Please tell me if there’s anything else I can do to make your stay more comfortable,” she said to Carmel before she moved into what Carmel presumed was the kitchen.

Damian led the way up the stairs to a huge bedroom with a king-size bed, love seat and full bathroom.

She dropped her things on the bed as she moved to open the double doors, and stepped onto the balcony.

Outside, the fragrance of the geraniums in the box along the rail filled the air while she took in the stunning view over the pool and out to sea.

The horizon was a blurred line between the rippled water and the dome of blue sky.

“This is really beautiful.” Leaning out, she saw the wall of Zoia’s cottage where a trellis was covered in flowers. Looking in the other direction, she asked, “Is the orange grove yours? Can I walk there?”

“Yes. The vineyard beyond it is also mine.”

She glanced at him and saw his gaze come up from her backside. She didn’t know whether to be flattered considering his harsh, I’m not going to touch you , but she definitely tingled under his notice.

He looked back into the bedroom. “I initially planned to make this room my office, but it gets all the midday sun. I’m mostly here in the summer so I prefer to work across the hall, on the cooler side of the villa.”

“How do I get things delivered here?”

“That didn’t take long,” he said wearily. “What is it you think you can’t live without, Carmel?”

“A change of clothes? My work laptop. Feminine protection.” That one was nonnegotiable.

She had some emergency supplies in her bag, but not enough for more than a couple of days.

“Basically, everything I left in Atlas’s apartment because I didn’t know I was going to be confined here like Persephone. ”

“Are you calling me Hades? I haven’t even started to make this hell for you.”

“It sounds like you expect me to share your toothbrush so, yeah, I think you have.”

His mouth twitched with reluctant amusement. “That won’t be necessary. Give me your brother’s address. My assistant will collect your things and have them delivered tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She slipped past him to the bed where she dug into her purse for her phone. “Atlas’s driver could probably drop my suitcase at your building. Let me make some calls, then I’ll freshen up and meet you downstairs for lunch?” She kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed.

“Make yourself at home,” he said with irony.

She curled her toes, self-conscious, but if he noticed, he didn’t say anything, only walked out and closed the door behind him.

She flopped onto her back and let out a breath she’d been holding since leaving London. For a few minutes, she simply concentrated on relaxing, allowing her adrenaline to subside and her limbs to go limp.

She had desperately needed this break from Damian’s dynamic presence to gather her composure, but how was she supposed to do that? She had agreed to spend the next two weeks with him! Here. In his home. Sleeping in a room beside his .

Through the wall, she heard faint, muted noises that suggested he was changing. Now she was picturing his naked chest and powerful thighs with a strip of black briefs—

Popping her eyes open, she gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to make the necessary calls, starting with Atlas’s housekeeper, then a few key personnel in her office.

She contemplated how much to say to Atlas as she washed her face and brushed her hair, then repinned it.

When she felt suitably back to full armor, she checked the time.

It was still early morning in New York. She could get away with a voice mail, which would let him hear her sincerity better than a text would convey.

“I swear to you I’m fine,” she began without any other greeting.

“But I’ll be working remotely for a few weeks, taking care of some old business.

I won’t be able to make Stella’s birthday.

I’m sorry about that. Genuinely. Don’t be mad.

” She quickly rethought that. “Go ahead and be mad if you want to. I’m not the boss of your feelings.

But I’ll make it up to her. If anything comes up at work, you can call me, but I’d rather have some privacy while I deal with this so butt out.

” She almost ended it there, then quickly added, “Thank you for letting me stay in your apartment. Give my love to Stella.”

Ugh. Feelings. She couldn’t say she loved Atlas.

Their relationship had been too contentious for too many years, but she appreciated him.

Deeply. And she genuinely liked Stella. She was the bridge they needed to get along, so Carmel regularly told Atlas how much she liked her.

Men loved to be flattered on their decision-making, and telling her brother he had married well was never a bad move.

She listened to the voice mail, hit Send, then walked downstairs barefoot, not ready to face Damian, but she had to. How else would she make good on her promise and try to improve their relationship?

Damian had a well-developed core of cynicism, especially where Carmel was concerned, so he had to question whether she purposely left her balcony doors open so he could overhear the message she recorded from where he sat beside the pool.

As was his habit when he arrived at the villa, he had changed for a cooling dip—something he had needed more than ever today, despite the fact it was merely a warm spring day, not the height of summer.

He was having second and third thoughts about asking her to stay, but reasoned that prolonging his grandmother’s life was worth the strain of having Carmel in his home.

He wasn’t the naive idiot he’d been at twenty-six.

Still, it was strange to have someone in the villa with him.

He was always aware of his grandmother nearby, always concerned about her well-being.

He planned his days around spending as much time with her as possible without tiring her, but he typically had the house to himself.

He liked it that way. His life in Athens was grueling.

He traveled a lot and regularly put in twelve- to sixteen-hour days, breaking only to eat and sleep.

He’d been called a workaholic, but he didn’t see it that way.

From the time his mother had left him here, he’d seen his grandparents working long, hard hours.

It was ingrained in him to do it, too. It had paid off.

His grandmother was well cared for, and he lived a very good life.

When he was here, he took some of the pressure off himself.

Or rather, he shifted the focus of his work onto the estate.

Now he had this disruptive energy in his private space, though. Someone he couldn’t trust.