Page 94 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

He was especially suspicious of the way Carmel wanted to appear cooperative and selfless.

As she played back her message, allowing the recording to drift as loudly through the window as the original message, he listened more closely.

She claimed she was sorry she couldn’t make a birthday party.

He didn’t doubt she hated to miss a party.

Who was this lover she was so worried about offending anyway?

Then he heard again, “Thank you for letting me stay in your apartment,” and realized the message was for her brother.

He should have picked up on that from the name “Stella.” Atlas Voudouris had recently married a woman from Switzerland.

Their affair had created a feeding frenzy online, as these things were wont to do.

Damian had paid little attention beyond the end result that Atlas had taken over DVE and his interest there was only from a business standpoint.

It had nothing to do with keeping tabs on Carmel.

“Oh.” She came onto the pool deck and halted when she saw him on the lounger. Her eyes were hidden by her black sunglasses, but he sensed her attention dropping to his blue, quick-dry swim shorts. “I didn’t realize you were down here.”

Her head angled as she self-consciously glanced to her balcony where the doors were still open, wondering perhaps if he’d overheard her.

“No?” He took in the fact she’d smoothed her hair and turned up the cuffs of her trousers to reveal her ankles and bare feet.

The first time he’d seen her, she’d been in a bikini with a sarong slung around her hips.

Her blond hair had been falling in wisps from its topknot, framing her tanned face.

She’d had the slender build of a model and a kittenish personality.

He’d been drawn to her humor and confidence. Her unabashed sex appeal.

He’d been lust-struck, as had every other man in her vicinity.

Damian had drawn his own share of interest from the opposite sex, being well-muscled from manual labor and full of confidence and ambition.

He’d still been flattered that this beautiful woman with the posh accent singled him out for her attention.

He ignored the twinges of that old pull and rose, moving to the table in the shade where Lethe had set it with salad, pita and tzatziki. He held a chair for her.

“Thank you.” Carmel sat and flicked her napkin onto her lap.

He took his own seat and reached to pour from the jug. “Would you prefer lemonade? Or a soft drink?”

“No, I like to keep the ice water in my veins at optimum levels.”

“I had forgotten what a dark sense of humor you have.” He sipped his own water, finding the taste noticeably plain.

He often added a splash of ouzo when he was relaxing by the pool, but he had decided to join her in teetotaling. It wouldn’t be a hardship. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, but he drank when it suited him. This would be an interesting exercise.

Also, he wanted to keep his wits about him.

“How long have you been sober?” he asked as they tucked into the food.

Her expression grew circumspect. “Eight months. Before that, I had a full year.”

“Oh? What happened eight months ago? Is that when your father cut you off?”

“No. That happened later and didn’t really bother me. No, Atlas got married.”

“Were you celebrating?”

“Ha. You don’t remember much about my relationship with him, do you?” She set down her fork and sipped her water, studying him from behind her dark lenses. “I don’t mind talking to you about my recovery, but is this a safe space? Why do you want to know?”

He wasn’t sure. Maybe because he hadn’t realized she had such a problem she’d sought help for it.

In the short time they’d been together, she had definitely overimbibed, but that wasn’t unusual for people in their midtwenties.

Also, she’d been on vacation when they met, then they’d married.

He hadn’t liked seeing her drink to excess, but she hadn’t been a mean or sloppy drunk.

She’d been bubbly and flirty and given to undressing.

That hadn’t been a detriment until that last dark day.

“I need to know you won’t use anything that I say against me later.” Her mouth stretched into a flat smile. “You’re angry enough to destroy me, Damian. I accept that, but the quickest way to do me in would be to spike my drink.” She tilted her glass. “FYI.”

“My taste for vengeance has its limits,” he bit out, insulted.

“Don’t take my suspicion personally.” She shrugged. “I’ve been burned so many times in group sessions I refuse to take part in them anymore.”

“Those twelve-step meetings? Aren’t they supposed to be confidential?”

“They are, but stories on my dirty little exploits still earn good money. Some find it too tempting.” She stabbed an olive and sealed her lips over it.

“If I wanted to capitalize on something like that, I would have revealed that we’re married a long time ago,” he pointed out.

“Why haven’t you?”

“Shame.”

“So this is not a safe space. Good to know.” She continued eating.

The silence stretched for three long minutes.

“That was a cheap shot,” he admitted. And not nearly as satisfying as he had hoped. “I won’t do it again.”

Lethe brought out freshly baked spanakopita and skewers of lamb souvlaki, then retreated again.

He thought Carmel was going to leave him in the dark, but she said, “You might remember that I lost my mother when I was twelve? That’s the first time I got drunk.”

“Her funeral?” That shocked him.

“No. But not long after.”

“It was something to do with her heart, wasn’t it?”

“She had a thyroid condition that caused arrhythmia.” She nodded. “There was always a potential for an event. It happened while I was at school.” She kept her eye on her plate while she pushed her food around, brow flinching. “I came home and she was just…not there.”

He had felt a kinship over the abruptness of her loss.

Like him, she had put up a lot of walls around herself as a result.

At the time, he had thought that made them alike.

Neither of them was capable of deep connection, but when he proposed, he had believed they could build a decent life on trust and respect and shared resources.

None of which they’d actually had.

“Daddy sent me back to boarding school as soon as the funeral was over, though.” She sipped her water. “According to the legions of therapists I’ve seen over the years, I wasn’t ready.” Her tone turned pithy.

Boarding school. It should have been the first red flag that they came from very different worlds, but he hadn’t thought it mattered until he’d stood in front of her father. Oliver Davenport had firmly slapped him in the face with the fact that where a person was educated mattered very much.

“I’d never been a very good student,” Carmel continued in a smooth, unflinching way.

It almost sounded rehearsed, but he had a suspicion it was simply something she’d told many times.

“Mummy used to advocate for me. She would arrange for me to have more time on a test or would hire me extra tutoring. Daddy thought I needed to apply myself. One day I was crying over failing a quiz and an older girl offered me a drink. It tasted like a milkshake and made all my troubles seem insignificant. As an added bonus, I got found out so I was suspended and sent home.” Her brows went up along with the corners of her mouth.

“A win-win,” he drawled.

“Exactly. That started a cycle where I would drink and get kicked out, then come back to even worse grades because I’d missed so much.

I’d drink those away and…” She rolled her wrist. “The headmistress finally told Daddy to get me help or they wouldn’t take me back.

That’s how I wound up in my first group session.

I shared everything I just told you and two days later, there was a huge story in one of Daddy’s rival papers.

They eviscerated him as a horrible father who hadn’t allowed his daughter to grieve. Daddy was livid.”

“At being scooped?”

“Ha!” She leaned forward with a chuckle of delight, face so bright he had to tamp down on a sudden rush of attraction.

“How have I never made that joke? I’m stealing it.

It’s like you’ve met him,” she added with deep irony.

“But no. It wasn’t the betrayal of my precious privacy, either. He was angry I made him look bad.”

That sounded exactly like the man he’d met.

My daughter is a Davenport. She can’t be married to a carpetbagger like you.

“I try not to make excuses about why I failed at rehab so many times, but that was a genuine blow to my trust in the process. I tried to manage it on my own, which means I hid my drinking, fooling no one except myself. Those were the modeling years. I had dropped out of school, but Atlas finished his degree and wanted a real job in DVE. Daddy gave him one and said I could have one, too, if I got sober, so away I went to rehab again. That time I talked about how difficult it had been to learn at fifteen that my father had had an affair while my mother was pregnant with me. And that I found out about Atlas when Daddy brought him to live with us. I said I struggled with a sense of not being good enough because Daddy told me to my face that he had to make Atlas his heir because I wasn’t smart enough to run DVE. ”

Parts of that story were common knowledge here in Greece.

Atlas had been a competitive swimmer already winning junior games when his father stepped in to support his training.

One of Atlas’s first sponsorship deals had been for the Davenwear Athletic clothing line. Atlas had modeled it alongside Carmel.

She hadn’t talked much about her brother while they’d been married, except in a disparaging way. Hell, they hadn’t talked much at all, usually keeping their mouths busy in other ways, but, “That was a brutal thing to say to your child.”

“Even more brutal to have that damning statement show up online before the words ‘Atlas the Great’ had left my mouth. Daddy was scooped again .” Her lip curled with malicious amusement.

“I went straight off the rails.” She pointed into the distance.

“That’s when Atlas had the bright idea for the Davenport Foundation to fund an exclusive clinic outside of London.

If they violate my privacy, they lose their funding.

I checked in so often, they’ve given me my own set of keys. ”

“Really?”

“No.” She snorted. “That was hyperbole.”

“Not the keys. You’ve sought help several times?”

“Did you miss the part where I have learning difficulties?”

“Are you making jokes because you don’t want to talk about this? Then say that.”

“I’m not avoiding… Maybe I am.” She sighed, then said flatly, “ I didn’t seek help until a few years ago. Before that, help was pushed onto me when I didn’t want it so I didn’t accept it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to change,” she said simply. “I didn’t have to. Daddy made it very easy for me to continue in my decadent ways. It worked for him. As long as I was unstable, he had a reason to keep me from accessing Mummy’s money.”

“The money you thought he’d release to you when we married.”

“Yes. He also played me and Atlas against each other, telling Atlas he was afraid how I would react if he retired and put Atlas in charge. Then he would tell me that he was keeping Atlas from taking over for my sake, because Atlas would go on a power trip.”

“But Atlas is in charge of DVE now, isn’t he?” It had been all over the headlines a few months ago.

“Yes. The board had their issues with Daddy. He’s a tremendous philanderer. That’s why he never remarried after Mummy. It was one woman after another, my age or younger.” She curled her lip.

So did he.

“The board was afraid Atlas would be the same, so they said he had to be married before they would support him. Daddy picked him out a wife, but of course it was a side deal that would have kept Daddy in place. Atlas married Stella instead. Daddy knew right away his goose was cooked and got in my ear that Atlas was staging a coup. I threw away a year of sobriety because…” She stared at her plate.

He couldn’t read her eyes, but the way her mouth turned down and the way her shoulders slumped spoke of very heavy emotions. Deep introspection and sadness.

“Because?” he prompted.

She drew a breath as though coming out of a trance and picked up her head.

“I thought it’s what Daddy wanted. I had never wanted to see how he used my drinking against Atlas, but Atlas was always the one who took me to the clinic.

He was furious that day, but he wasn’t mad at me .

And I was so mad at myself for throwing myself off the wagon I voted against Daddy with the board.

They installed Atlas and Daddy cut us off as punishment. ”

“So you are broke.”

“I have my salary as president of Davenwear. It’s generous. And Atlas would help me if I needed it. I’d rather not ask because…” She wrinkled her nose. “Pride.”

He studied her, filtering every word, trying to decide how much of what she had told him he would allow himself to believe. It all sounded plausible, but was delivered with her laissez-faire attitude that had him wondering if it was simply another story told to get what she wanted.

“I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” she said, reading his skepticism.

“ I don’t trust me. I want to believe I can stay here and bring some comfort to your grandmother, but seeing you and facing all the things I did is hard.

I was raised to believe that I was special and didn’t have to do things that are hard.

” Her mouth twisted in self-deprecation.

“But I’ve done some very good sharing today, so I’ll end our session here .

” She set her fork and knife together on her plate. “And reward myself with dessert.”