Page 96 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

She lifted her gaze from the bottom of the pool, meeting his narrowed stare across the gulf between them. Did he really think she’d forgotten how to be mean? Or that the truth was the sharpest weapon of all?

“You married me for my money, Damian. I told you my father had promised to give me access to my trust once I was married, and you whisked me to Gibraltar the very next day. Daddy was the one who lied about giving me access to it, not me. And yes, when it came down to it, I chose him and the life of comfort he already offered me over gambling on your promise to do the same. He was the devil I knew. I’m sorry you came away thinking all women are as faithless as me, but that’s between you and your ego because that’s all I damaged.

I asked you if you loved me and you said, ‘How could I?’”

Another spike of anguish went straight into her throat as she recalled that.

“We’d known each other for eight days. You were holding divorce papers,” he reminded her grittily. “You only said it after sex so don’t try to tell me that you meant it.”

Fair. In those days she had said it to anyone from the girlfriend emigrating to America to the pool boy who brought her a mimosa.

The truth was, even though her mother had loved her ferociously, after she was gone, no one had loved her.

The few good friends she’d had at school had dwindled away, and everyone else had loved her money.

Her father hadn’t loved her. She had made sure that Atlas never would.

What she’d felt for Damian had been the most painful crush she’d had on anyone ever. It had been new and sharp and frightening because it took up so much space inside her. Because she knew how much it hurt to love and lose.

She hadn’t known how to handle it or express it so she’d used those words that had lost all meaning to her, afraid to find a more accurate vocabulary until she knew he felt the same.

He hadn’t.

“The truth is, after losing my mother, I stopped believing anyone could love me,” she said starkly. “It’s the source of all my problems. Or so I’ve been told.”

It took all her effort to make her stiff muscles stand. Water sluiced off her body, falling away like all the nascent hopes she had held close to her heart all her life.

She snapped out her towel and wrapped it around her middle, too flayed by this conversation to continue it.

“You’re right. Trying to talk through things serves no purpose. It only makes things worse so let’s not bother. What time is dinner? I don’t want to keep your grandmother waiting.”

The sun was setting when Damian walked across to collect Zoia.

Carmel was already in the gazebo as he passed it. Her back was to him and she was in shadow so he only saw her silhouette in a sundress, hair gathered in a ponytail at her nape.

I stopped believing anyone could love me. It’s the source of all my problems.

She had delivered the statement with her signature, throwaway sarcasm. He’d resolved not to believe a word she said, or fall for ploys for sympathy, but that was as starkly truthful as it got. Which was an unsettling thought.

Because he could relate, having had doubts as a child about his own lovability.

When his mother had left him here, his grandparents had kept him, but his grandfather had had a lot of mixed emotions, initially resisting Damian’s presence.

He had wanted to find Damian’s father. Ignorance was no excuse for failing to take responsibility for the child he’d made.

Clearly that shiftless man’s attitude had rubbed off on their daughter if she had abandoned her son with them.

Over time, Damian had earned Eurus’s respect by working hard without complaint. Zoia’s warmth had made up for Eurus’s ambivalence, but the nagging sense of rejection and being unwanted had stayed with Damian into adulthood, until he learned his mother hadn’t deliberately abandoned him here.

Learning the truth didn’t erase the fact that Damian had conditioned himself to eschew love. It wasn’t an emotion he wanted or needed. He looked after Zoia because she was his family. She had given him a home when he had no one else. He had a duty to do the same for her.

Whatever he’d felt for Carmel had held shades of that sense of responsibility.

He’d been enthralled by her and flattered by the enthusiasm she’d shown for his work.

Her seeming willingness to invest in him had fueled his ambitions.

She’d made it sound as though her father kept her on a leash by holding on to the purse strings so he’d thought he was solving a problem for her by offering marriage.

And yes, she had promised to help him buy this estate.

If she had, it would have been theirs together.

In that respect, he had believed they were building a life together.

Their marriage had seemed logical and practical and maybe it had also been a shortcut to where he wanted to go, but he had accepted he was taking on a lifetime commitment.

He’d spent this afternoon thinking about all she’d told him over lunch, about her journey into recovery. When he’d returned to find her asleep by the pool, he’d been struck by how innocent and angelic she looked. And alluring with those new, lusher curves.

It had been hard to drag his eyes from her.

When she didn’t wake as he was washing off the field dust at the outdoor shower, he’d begun to wonder if something heavier than sleep was keeping her from rousing.

A flick of water had had her sitting up, though.

Her nipples had already been hard beneath her turquoise bikini top, and a guilty blush had risen to her cheeks.

Why?

His brief thought that she’d been having erotic dreams was titillating enough that he’d had to push himself into lapping the pool to cool his ardor. He had made himself stay in the deep end as he caught his breath, distancing himself as far from temptation as possible.

When she had invited him to air his grievances, he’d nearly howled. He was furious that she wasn’t making it easy to hate her, but his greatest complaint was that he still found her so mesmerizing.

It was so misplaced! Either she was still a woman struggling to overcome personal demons by making amends, or she was here with a fresh batch of lies. Neither made her a woman he could or should pursue.

This was a ridiculous situation, one he never should have put himself in, but this wasn’t about him, he reminded himself. This charade was for his grandmother.

“The doctor wants to see you in his office tomorrow,” Damian told Zoia as they carefully navigated the graveled path to the gazebo. “We’ll go tomorrow after lunch.”

They liked to eat outdoors when the weather allowed. It wasn’t too far for her to walk, there was a comfortable breeze, but also a sheltered corner where she wouldn’t grow chilled. And it was a pleasant atmosphere, overlooking the water.

“You aren’t wasting time, are you?” she chided. “What about spending time with your wife?”

“She’s having dinner with us.” He nodded toward the gazebo.

“ You need to spend time with her. Woo her. Take her on a date.”

“If she’s still here tomorrow, I’ll consider taking your advice,” he said dryly.

Zoia didn’t talk again until they had joined Carmel, then she said, “You’ll still be here tomorrow, won’t you?”

“I’ve never been someone who knows when to quit,” Carmel said with an ironic twist of her mouth. She seated herself while he held his grandmother’s chair.

Damian tried not to ogle the expanse of skin across the top of Carmel’s chest and shoulders, bared by the simple dress. Of course, she was so naturally beautiful, she would look good in a burlap sack.

“Tell me about yourself,” Zoia said once they were settled. “Tell me why you ended your marriage before it started.”

“Oh.” Carmel flashed him a look that was part disbelief, part question. How honest do you want me to be? “You may need to translate. My Greek may not be up to the task.”

She wouldn’t lie to his grandmother, she seemed to be telling him, but she would allow him do it, if he wanted to revise anything she said.

“My father disapproved,” she said in English to Zoia, waiting for Damian to translate. “He wanted me to marry the son of his friend. He was angry that I didn’t ask his permission before I married Damian.”

“Why didn’t you?” Zoia asked.

“Because I knew he wanted me to marry the son of his friend,” Carmel said wryly.

“Ah.” Zoia shot Damian an astute look, correctly understanding that he’d been cannon fodder. “Is that why you didn’t ask for a divorce sooner?”

“I did. Damian refused.” Carmel looked to him, perhaps wondering if he would prevaricate.

He didn’t, even though he had never told Zoia that.

He had called to tell her when the deed was done, explaining they were carrying on to London to tell Carmel’s father.

Damian had asked Zoia to keep the news under her hat until he brought his bride home.

Whatever enthusiasm had been in his voice during that call was the source of her earlier “I know how you felt about her” remark.

Because he returned home alone. Furious. Spurned. Zoia had asked him a few times what had happened. He’d always said as little as possible. When she had occasionally asked if he wanted to marry again, he’d told her he was still married to Carmel, but he had never wanted to rock that boat.

“Daddy threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t divorce Damian,” Carmel continued.

“I was afraid I would lose my mother’s company.

It was all I had of her, and I had already put a lot of my own effort into its success.

So I told him it was done and, whenever he tried to push me to marry anyone, I made myself unpleasant enough my suitor would be turned off. ”

Meaning she would go on a bender and create a stir?

A sharp spear of concern went through him. He skipped relaying that part and explained that Davenwear was athletic clothing and wearable tech.

“Carmel’s mother found a pocket of opportunity in women’s wear that was engineered for specific sports.

The clothes were fashionable and well-made, so they became popular streetwear.

Her father comes from a legacy of publishing.

He provided the start-up investment for the clothing company, but soon the clothes were keeping his media operations afloat.

When Carmel’s mother passed, her father poured all his resources into taking the clothing brand global, which included asking his children to model for the line. ”

He saw why Carmel had wanted to fight for it. It was a profitable enterprise still capable of growth.

“I don’t remember telling you all of that,” Carmel said with bemusement.

“I can read,” he said dryly.

“You’re a model! No wonder you’re so pretty,” Zoia said.

“Thank you. You should see my brother, though. Oh! You may have. Atlas Voudouris?”

“The swimmer? He’s your brother?” Zoia’s voice rose with excitement, and she touched Damian’s arm.

“We watched him win gold, didn’t we? I remember that very well.

How did you never tell me we’re related to someone so famous?

” she chided Damian, then asked Carmel, “But how is your brother Greek and you are not?”

Carmel’s mouth tilted into bitter amusement.

“How do you think? My father had an affair with Atlas’s mother.

She reached out when Atlas was doing so well with his swimming, asking Daddy to fund his training.

Daddy said Atlas had to come live with us and become his successor at DVE.

He didn’t want to remarry and start a new family with anyone else, not when he had a son who was perfectly capable. ”

“Are you not?” Zoia asked with surprise.

“No. Which used to be a bone of contention between us, but he’s welcome to it. I prefer to focus on my mother’s company.”

Zoia asked about it and Carmel became more animated. She always had cheeky stories at the ready and soon told one about a prototype for a sports bra that came out laughably wrong, then a pizza party that was accidentally ordered from an establishment that used strippers for deliveries.

“HR was not happy with me,” she assured Zoia, who was laughing with enjoyment.

“Then there was the day I thought I’d put us into bankruptcy.

Everyone knows my math skills are terrible.

I usually have my staff check all my work, but we had this one deal that had to be closed by midnight.

I double-checked everything and signed off on the quote.

Two days later, I got a notice from accounting saying, ‘This math is wrong.’ I was horrified .

The order was huge and our profit margin was so narrow.

Backing out of the contract would have been a disaster. ”

“What did you do?” Damian asked when he caught up on the translation. He was as much on the edge of his seat as Zoia.

“I had missed a zero on the end of the profit estimation. It was actually ten times what I’d calculated. The whole thing was a huge success. But, based on my math skills, it could have gone the other way just as easily!”

Zoia clapped her hands, delighted.

Damian couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his grandmother so lively. Even if Carmel’s story was pure fiction, he didn’t care. He liked seeing that sparkle in Zoia’s eye.

“It sounds like you enjoy your work a great deal,” Zoia said.

“I do. It makes me feel like I’m keeping a piece of my mother alive.”

“And do you ever think about becoming one yourself?”

“A mother?” She flashed another look at Damian.

“She doesn’t want to answer that one,” he said in Greek. “It’s too personal.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Carmel’s hand rested on his wrist in the briefest of touches, like a butterfly that was gone before it had fully alighted, but he felt the contact like an ice burn.

“When I was very young, I presumed I would have a family. I failed a lot while I was at school, though. That’s another reason I gave up on our marriage so easily.

” She glanced at Damian, shoulder hitching in a pained acknowledgment.

“Failing is the one thing I’ve always been good at.

Since then, I’ve made many poor life decisions.

I believe it’s best if I don’t become a parent. ”

“I hope you reconsider. Children are a great comfort when you’re old.” Zoia sent a misty-eyed smile to Damian. “Grandsons especially.”

“I never think about growing old,” Carmel confided wryly. “Should I?”

“It will happen whether you think about it or not,” Zoia said philosophically. “And when it does, you tire easily and must excuse yourself from good company. Come see me tomorrow. I’ll show you my garden.”