Page 44 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

On the third morning he made himself get up. No more wallowing, he had work to do. He skimmed the million messages, replied to only the most essential—mainly to tell his PA to instruct everyone that he was on leave. Then he walked down to the beach. Fresh air would do the trick.

He took the boat out—puttered around to the village harbour where he’d dropped her that first day. He never should have given her the ride but he’d been unable to resist. The boat bumped against the concrete dock and Ares winced. He jumped to secure the line, making an uncharacteristic hash of it when he became aware of a shadow. Someone was watching. He spun, heart pounding. But it wasn’t Bethan. It was a young boy.

‘You’ve not done it right.’ The boy stared at the mangled rope.

‘Yeah,’ Ares chuckled weakly.

The boy moved forward and swiftly retied the line. Securely. He straightened, looking up. ‘You’re Ares Vasiliadis.’

‘I am.’

The boy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re training crew for those fancy boats.’

‘Future deckhands. Captains. Yeah.’

The boy shot the fixed line a sideways look and Ares grinned.

‘I’m just providing the money,’ he added.

‘I can sail. I’m fast.’

‘I bet.’ Ares nodded.

‘Niko!’ A woman hurried down the path. As she approached, recognition changed her demeanour. ‘You’re Ares—’

‘Vasiliadis, yes. Niko helped secure my boat. When he’s a bit older he should apply to the Melina Foundation, he’s got skills, could be a fine sailor one day.’

Niko grew about a foot in front of them.

His mother smiled. ‘His grandfather’s a fisherman.’

‘So it’s in the blood, then.’ Ares managed a smile back and headed up the path with a nod of farewell.

You’re good with them.

Bethan had enjoyed his banter with the trainees onArtemis. Honestly, he’d enjoyed spending time with them. He’d liked Niko just now too—his guileless curiosity, his instinctive interest and confidence. Ares’s own instinct was to want the best for him—as he’d wanted for the trainees too. And that boy was a complete stranger. If he had hisownchildren he would want more than the best for them, he would do anything to help, to protect, to love them. He’d want to bewiththem.

Pain struck his chest as if someone had shoved a poisoned lance into his ribs and impaled his heart. He abandoned the steep path and turned back. It took double the usual time to boat back to the villa.

In the lounge he stared at her sculpture. If he still had that energy, if he still had that rage, he would take that hammer she’d found and smash it himself. But there was no energy. No rage. Only the ache that was now worsening by the second. She’d used all kinds of items to create it—taking broken threads and weaving them together—marrying other items to make something new. Something beautiful. She’d even brought him and Gia together for a brief moment.

He sank onto the sofa. He’d not been able to handle Bethan’s calm dignity, her kind reason delivered withcompassion. But now he saw—through the pain, to the truth. God, hehadbeen a coward.

He’d let her think the worst. Fobbed her off with a weak excuse. He’d been too scared to tell her thathe was too scared. He was screwed up and so hehadscrewed up the most important thing to enter his life.

He was supposedly successful. He could have anything money could buy. He’d taken the reins of an enormous company and built it even bigger. But the fact was he felt like rubbish inside. He felt unlovable. Unwilling to risk letting someone in for fear they found out the truth. That there was a reason why his father had never wanted to acknowledge him. A reason why his mother had forced him to live with people who’d barely accepted his existence—why she’d rejected him the moment she’d had the chance. The Vasiliadis family were broken—driven by greed and a rapacious need for power. They’d wanted his blood lineage, his brain and branded an insane work ethic into him. But they’d not actually wantedhim. Theytoleratedhim, but so unwillingly. They’d only paid attention when he’d proved himself the way they required—with financial success. But he was broken too. His endless rage sprang from that bottomless well of rejection—because he’d not been wanted from the start.

Except that wasn’tquitetrue. His mother had wanted him. She’dkepthim, cared for him and worked so hard to provide for them both. In the early years she’d refused to give him up, even when she’d had no support from family of her own, let alone Loukas Vasiliadis. Ares remembered those days when she’d not had a shift and she’d taken him to the beach. She’d taught him to swim, to sail. Shehadloved him. He knew that her sending him to the Vasiliadis compound had been born from some desperate belief that he would have a better life than she could provide. She’d just not given him any choice in that decision. She’d known he’d not wanted to go, so she’d lied to make him.

Which was exactly what he’d done to Bethan.

He’d pushed her away. Let her leave believing a lie. But him denying them a relationship wasn’t what was best forher. He’d been trying to protect himself. Because he had the biggest fear of failure on earth. Of rejection. He’d not explained to her about it years ago—he’d been stressed and gone cold and she’d misinterpreted his silence. He’d valued actions over words but he’d failed her in both departments. Both back then and now.

Because the irony wasBethanhad valued him. She’d appreciated, not just his body, but his humour—the humour that emerged only with her. Because she was sweet and funny. And safe. And she appreciated his attempt to honour his mother. He wanted to take her boating again. Wanted to take their babies too—he would teach them to swim and sail. Bethan would teach them how to tie firm knots because securing connections—caring—was what she was so good at. And she’d truly cared for him.

Bethan was the one person in his life who’d told him he should be proud of himself. So maybe, if he was fully honest with her—she might be right.

Chapter Thirteen