Page 30 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

CHAPTER ONE

Ulysses

I knew the moment I saw her that I had to have her.

I’d heard about her through the business grapevine—the ice queen with a facility for numbers, and since I employ no one but the best at Vulcan Energy, the multinational energy conglomerate I own, I wanted to see her for myself. Naturally, with an eye to headhunting her.

She was the CFO of a small but up-and-coming solar energy company, Tanaka Solar—something else I’d had my eye on—so I organised a meeting with their executives.

She was dressed in a pale suit and sat at the meeting table like a queen, white-blonde hair wrapped in a braid around her head like silver rope, her eyes as blue and dark as the north sea.

Katla Sigurdsdottir: Katla, like the Icelandic volcano. Covered in ice with fire at its heart.

Our eyes met and I felt the impact. It had been a long time since I’d experienced such an intense rush of desire for a woman, so I didn’t bother to hide my interest from her—I’m always clear about what I want—and she’d flushed, all pretty and pink.

Yet her chin came up, she held my gaze and the rest of the world disappeared.

A heartbeat passed, and then another. Normally that’s when people look away from me, because they find me…

intimidating. But she didn’t look away. And I could see it then, glowing in her blue eyes—the fire beneath all that ice.

And I knew. Despite her frozen exterior, she would blaze for me.

I’m not a man shy about what he wants, especially when it concerns physical desire, so I wasted no time letting her know that I wanted her.

I expected some confusion, some cursory resistance perhaps, the way some women liked to play, and I’m not averse to it.

But I didn’t expect her to refuse me—not once, not twice, but six times.

I do not take kindly to the word no, but if I’d thought she’d meant it I would have backed off.

She didn’t mean it, though. So now I’m here, at Tanaka Plaza, the building she works in, ready to deliver her an ultimatum.

Because I always get what I want in the end.

Many would say that Christmas Eve is not the time for such a declaration, and certainly I have other, better things to do.

However, I’m an impatient man and I’ve waited long enough.

Katla Sigurdsdottir has refused me six times but there will not be a seventh. She will accept me tonight, on Christmas Eve, because if she does not I will take the company she works for, that I’ve heard she’s so loyal to, and make that mine instead.

You can see why they call me dangerous.

Tonight, I’ve flown into LA from my office in Munich to deliver my ultimatum personally—it would be crass to deliver it via email—even though LA is a city I have never cared for.

However, I appreciate its raw energy and the greed of the people who live here.

They’re hungry for more money, more power, a better life…

and that I definitely relate to. What has my life been, after all, but the relentless pursuit of all those things?

I’m certainly powerful now so, as I walk into Tanaka Plaza, my bodyguards flanking me, the man at the desk on the ground floor presents no obstacle.

Xander, head of my security, explains to him the nature of my business and, proving he knows what’s good for him, the doorman doesn’t protest. He quickly ushers us to the lift that will take us to the top floor.

Five minutes later the sound of music and loud voices greets us as the lift doors open, and when we approach the empty reception desk we can see a party going on through the glass doors that separate the waiting room from the offices.

People are wearing reindeer antlers and glowing red noses, and there is tinsel around more than a couple of necks.

Everyone is talking and laughing, and some are singing.

A staff Christmas party. How quaint.

I ignore the party, searching the crowd for the woman I’ve come for, and eventually I spot her, standing near the tall, fake Christmas tree in one corner.

She is wearing reindeer antlers too, and some kind of unattractive Christmas-themed sweater, but neither of those things detracts from her beauty.

She’s just as lovely now as she was in that meeting room.

With all her pale hair, pale skin and those North Sea eyes, she reminds me of an iceberg—cold, frozen, yet, when the sun touches her, she glows.

At least, she glowed when I looked at her across the boardroom table that day. That’s when I knew she was mine.

She’s talking to someone I don’t care about, the way I don’t care about any of the people in that room. They don’t matter. Only she does. I’m a dragon and she’s the unique gold coin I want to add to my hoard.

Olympia, my younger sister and the only thing I care about it in the entire world, would have something to say about my behaviour—she does not care for my ruthlessness and so I try to restrain myself for her. But Olympia isn’t here and this doesn’t concern her.

I glance at my bodyguards to let them know that it’s time, then I stride past the empty reception desk, through the glass doors and into the gathered party.

At first people are too busy having fun to notice me. But then double-takes start to happen and they’re turning around to look, the dark clothes I’m wearing with the black overcoat over the top cutting through all this brightness like a shadow knifes through a bean of sunlight.

I’m not above a little showmanship.

The din of human noise quietens and I leave a trail of silence rippling out behind me as I head straight for her. She is the last to notice, talking to the man standing with her, and only when he glances at me and stops speaking does she turn.

Her dark-blue eyes widen and alarm flares in them before it vanishes under a layer of ice. She glances at my entourage then looks back at me, and her chin lifts, hauteur in every line of her tall, slender figure.

‘Mr Zakynthos,’ she says, her voice clear as a bell with no trace of her native Iceland in the words. ‘I didn’t realise you’d been invited to our Christmas party. How nice of you to join us. But I’m afraid we’re not allowing guests, so the rest of your group will have to leave.’

She should look ridiculous, standing there with antlers on her head in that awful red-and-green Christmas sweater, ordering me around like I’m the nobody she’s decided to treat me as. But I’m not a nobody and she doesn’t look ridiculous.

I’m not a fanciful man either, but there’s an ethereal quality to her, a sharpness to her features, that makes me think of otherworldly beings: elves; fairies; the beautiful creatures of myth, rare and unique, which was what drew me to her in the first place.

I’m a collector of rare and unique things.

Beautiful things. I’ve never wanted to collect a woman before, so the depth of my initial desire to collect her surprised me.

But I hate being denied something I want, so it’s probably that which has deepened my obsession.

It’s galling to be a cliché. Nevertheless, I wasn’t deterred when I first asked her to dinner and she refused.

I asked her again, politely, courteously.

I know the rules of human interaction and I play by them, but if that doesn’t get me what I want then I break them.

Rules are made to broken, after all. So, after rejection number six, I decided it was time to stop playing.

She wanted me—I saw the fire in her eyes that day in the meeting. And she wouldn’t have held my gaze, challenging me, if she hadn’t found me compelling, as most women generally do. But she is not most women, and tonight I will not take no for an answer.

I smile, appreciating her little joke, taking no notice of the quiet room and all the people staring at me. ‘But I’m not here for the Christmas party, Miss Sigurdsdottir,’ I say. ‘And neither are my associates.’

The man standing next to her frowns and says in puzzled tones, ‘Miss?’

She pays no attention to him. ‘It’s Ms,’ she corrects me coldly, her dark-blue gaze on mine. ‘Are you wanting to speak to Mr Tanaka?’

Of course I do. It’s his company I’ll be using as leverage, after all.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘This does involve him.’

Her eyes narrow. ‘“This”? Can I ask, what is “this”?’

‘You can ask.’ I give the rest of the room a glance. ‘But you may not want an audience for the answer.’

If she’s guessed my intentions, she gives no sign. Perhaps she thinks the reason for my presence is some last-minute emergency, a piece of business that needs taking care of before the Christmas break. She would be wrong.

‘The business day is over, Mr Zakynthos,’ she says. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, if you hadn’t noticed, and unless you’re—’

‘I’m not here for business,’ I interrupt calmly. ‘I am here for you.’

She’s not so pale now, a flush tinging her cheeks like dawn light touching a snow bank; her full mouth tightening, the blue ice of her eyes trying to freeze me where I stand. ‘In what capacity?’ she asks, her clear voice noticeably chilling.

I give her a slow smile. ‘I think you know in what capacity, Ms Sigurdsdottir.’

‘Kat,’ the man next to her interjects, scowling. ‘What the hell is going on? Who is this guy?’

Once again, she ignores him. ‘Mr Zakynthos…’ she begins.

But I don’t let her finish. ‘Find Mr Tanaka and a room where we can discuss this in private. Though…’ I pause for effect ‘…I’m very willing to talk about this right here, right now if you’d prefer.’

She’s angry, I can see it in her eyes, but it’s a cold anger, as befits a daughter of Iceland. That’s where she’s from, and I know that because, after that meeting, I wanted to know everything about her, so I educated myself.

Her mother was a kind of free spirit and left Reykjavik when Katla was very young.

They led a peripatetic life in Europe, never settling in one place for too long before moving on.

I’m not sure how she managed schooling in a life like that, but she did turn up at a British university that she attended young because of her gift for numbers.

She studied finance and maths, graduating with honours and getting positions in a number of different companies, before she was headhunted by Tanaka to be their CFO.

It’s a small company, specialising in solar energy, but growing fast and I suspect that’s largely because of her.

Like I said, she’s unique. Rare. And, the more I discovered about her, the more I wanted to know because she fascinates me— I confess, I’m not sure why—and there’s only one way to handle such obsessions.

You must take the thing you’re obsessed with and learn everything about it until you know it inside out.

Only once you know a thing completely can you move on. This is why I have to move on her, and move now. There are other things I need to do, other obsessions to explore, but I can’t do any of them until I’ve sated myself with her.

‘There is no need to talk about this at all,’ she says icily. ‘I have nothing to say to you, except to please leave. Because, if you don’t, I’ll have security throw you out.’

She’s impressive, I’ll give her that, and some might find her intimidating.

But I don’t. I find her exciting. In fact, my muscles are already tightening in anticipation of the fight to come, and she will give me a fight—I already know that.

Which is good. It’s been too long since I’ve had such an interesting lover.

‘There was no security downstairs,’ I inform her. ‘They must have gone home already. It is Christmas Eve, after all.’

‘Kat,’ the man says, his voice as annoying as the buzz of a mosquito. ‘I really need your attention right now. This is important and I—’

‘No, it is not,’ I break in, causing him to fall silent. ‘Stay quiet, please. No one is talking to you.’

He stares at me for a moment, clearly deciding whether or not to argue, but I hold his gaze, letting him know exactly who and what he is dealing with, and he shuts his mouth with a snap.

Katla mutters something under her breath and Mr Tanaka, who must have been informed of my arrival, abruptly appears at my elbow.

‘Mr Zakynthos,’ he says, eyeing me warily. ‘I hear you wish to speak to me?’

‘I don’t think…’ Katla begins.

‘Yes,’ I say, ignoring her and turning to him. ‘I do wish to speak to you. Do you have an office where we can talk in private?’

Tanaka can’t afford to be rude. I’m too powerful. Vulcan Energy would swallow his little company whole if I wanted it to, and I may yet want it to, depending on what answer Katla Sigurdsdottir gives to the ultimatum I intend to put to her.

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Follow me.’

I smile and hold out my hand to the icy queen currently staring daggers at me, in an ‘after you’ gesture. The antlers and the cheerful Christmas sweater should be covered in a rime of ice, given the chill pouring off her, but that doesn’t faze me. I expected ice from her.

The man beside her moves, reaching to grab her elbow as she goes to follow her boss. ‘Kat,’ he whispers urgently.

‘Let her go,’ I say before she can react, and I don’t hide the threat in my voice. She is mine now and no one touches what’s mine.

He flushes and drops his hand, yet he must have some modicum of bravery, because he glares at me. ‘I’m her husband,’ he says, as if sensing my intentions.

I know she was married. I also know that she left him six months ago.

‘Not any more,’ I say.

Then I walk past him, following Katla out of the room.