Page 64 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

She held his stare with all the contempt she could muster.

‘When people lie it’s either to stop themselves getting into trouble or to spare the other’s feelings.

Unless you’re planning to beat me to keep me in line, which I don’t think even you would do, I have no need to lie to you, because I couldn’t care less about your feelings. ’

There was the slightest flicker in his eye before he gave a half-smile. ‘Then I look forward to the day I catch you in a lie.’

And with those unsettling, enigmatic words, he dropped his stare back to his laptop and immersed himself back in his work.

It was movement that woke her. Disorientated, Lydia had to blink a number of times before she remembered where she was. Flying to Agon with Alexis Tsaliki to marry him…

Where was he?

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes—it must have claimed her quickly as she didn’t remember her eyes getting heavy—she looked at her watch. Only forty minutes in the air. She could only have been asleep for minutes.

She straightened, her heart catching in her throat before her eyes registered the figure further down the cabin, in the dining area.

His back to her, Alexis had changed out of his trousers into a pair of faded jeans that perfectly accentuated his perfect buttocks and snake hips, and was leaning over, pulling something out of a carry-on bag, the muscles of his bronzed naked back rippling with the movement.

Her caught heart swelled and she gripped hold of her blouse right above the place it beat the hardest.

He straightened and then more muscles rippled and flexed as he lifted his arms and pulled a white T-shirt over his head.

‘Enjoying the show?’ he asked before he turned around and flattened the T-shirt over his rock-hard abdomen. Eyes gleaming, he strode towards her. ‘I would have showered but time ran away from me.’

She wanted to run away from him. Lydia had never gone so fully from dozing to wide awake in such a short space of time.

‘I would suggest you change into something more comfortable too, but with your clothing predicament…’ Shaking his head with faux regret, he retook his seat and stretched his long legs out, his foot coming to rest right beside hers.

Eyes alive with sensuous amusement, he smiled.

‘Unless you would like to borrow something of mine?’

Lydia pulled her feet back. ‘I’d rather suffer, thank you.’

‘Then you will soon get your wish—we’ll be landing in a few minutes.’

Stepping out of the plane and onto the private airfield was like stepping into an inferno.

From the time it took to walk from the door of the plane to the door of the shining black car waiting for them, a feat that took approximately twenty seconds, Lydia’s clothes were clinging to her skin and the hair at the nape of her neck had dampened, which also happened to be Alexis’s fault because it had been too dark to find the hairband he’d pulled out on the beach and she didn’t have a spare.

It was all grossly unfair—she’d seen daisies that would envy his freshness.

Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out her phone. ‘Where are we staying?’ She would do a quick search to see if there was a hotel with a boutique close by that she could zip into.

‘At my villa.’

‘I didn’t know you had a villa here.’

‘I have many properties. This is but one of them.’

‘The address?’

He recited it to her. To her immense frustration, it was in an exclusive area with high-end restaurants and boutiques but no hotels.

‘We can shop in the morning, before we marry,’ he said, reading her thoughts.

‘Is it booked?’

‘Yes. We marry at the royal chapel at midday.’

It took a moment for that to sink in. ‘The royal chapel?’ she said in horror. ‘Are you being serious? I assumed we were having a civil ceremony?’

‘Then you assumed wrong. Prince Talos is an old friend and immensely trustworthy. He’s made the arrangements, and is going to act as a witness with his wife. No one will know we’ve married until we release the news.’

‘But a chapel? How am I supposed to make my vows in front of God knowing it’s a lie?’

His eyes narrowed a touch before he said in a silkily dangerous voice, ‘But it can’t be a lie when you’re committing to a real marriage with me, until death us do part…unless that in itself is a lie and you’re already planning your escape?’

‘I don’t need to plan anything because if anyone’s going to want to escape it, it’s you .’

The almost imperceptible flicker appeared in his eye. ‘And what makes you think that?’

‘Because you’re a serial seducer who’s slept with…’ Her stomach turned over. ‘I don’t want to think about how many women you’ve been with.’

‘Jealous?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said before quickly adding, ‘It’s the reasons behind our marriage that make marrying in a house of God wrong, the vows to love and honour and everything…

how can we pledge to love each other when the truth is that we despise each other?

’ And why did her heart pang to say that?

The strength of his stare in the silence that followed acted like a magnet, forcing her to meet it.

‘Why have you never married before?’ he surprised her by asking.

‘I never wanted to.’

‘But if I’ve been led to believe correctly, you’ve had two long-term relationships—did you not want to marry those men?’

She turned her stare out of the window. This was her first visit to the island of Agon, a sovereign nation of Greek origin with the same language, currency, myths and legends.

The architecture of the pristine town they were driving through reminded her strongly of Crete but with wider roads.

She’d holidayed in Crete once, while in her second relationship.

The forced proximity she’d assumed they would enjoy together had been the catalyst for their end. She’d been bored out of her mind. ‘No.’

‘Did you not love them?’

Not enough. ‘Of course I loved them.’

‘But not enough to marry them,’ he observed astutely, correctly reading her thoughts. ‘They asked you?’

She sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘Why say no?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Considering that tomorrow I shall be your husband, it is my business.’

‘Okay, well I’ll answer that if you tell me why you’re a serial shagger and commitment-phobe.’

‘Hardly a commitment-phobe when I’m marrying you in a matter of hours.’

‘Yes, but nothing will change for you. You’re not making a commitment to be faithful. You’ll still be continuing your serial shagging ways.’

‘Your opinion of me never ceases to delight.’ Although this was delivered lightly, Lydia detected an edge to his voice, an edge that disappeared when he added, ‘But as you’re the one who has turned down two marriage proposals, I would say that makes you the one afraid of commitment, which is a conversation we shall continue later.

We’re here.’ They’d stopped by the side of the wide road, the driver indicating to turn into a set of high iron gates that were slowly opening.

‘For now, I remind you that you have committed yourself to me as my wife, in all ways, and now it is time for you to prove it.’

She whipped her stare back to him. ‘How?’

‘Generally people newly in love look at each other with love, so you can start with not looking at me as if you want to bash my brains in when we’re in public,’ he answered drily.

She jutted her chin mutinously. ‘I’m not an actress.’

He gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘We made a deal, Lydia. If you’re not prepared to stick to it then tell me now and I’ll have you driven back to the airport.’

‘I’ll stick to it.’

‘Good, then come here and kiss me.’

‘No.’

‘Kiss me or go home.’

‘I hate you.’

‘I know. Now for the last time, come here.’

Jaw clenched, she shuffled across the leather seat to him and twisted to face him properly. The only faint solace she could take at this situation was that this time she was prepared. This time she would keep her composure and wouldn’t give an ounce of herself more than necessary.

‘How do you want to choreograph it?’ she asked tautly. ‘Do you want my hands on your shoulders or shall I wrap them around your…?’

Her words were cut off when a large hand cupped the side of her neck and his mouth swooped onto hers, cutting off her breath with her words as the shock of it raced through her, knotting her stomach and bringing every nerve-ending zinging into tingling life.

With skilled precision, he slid his tongue into her mouth, an arm sliding round her waist, pulling her closer and lighting all those nerve-endings like a match against tissue paper. Lydia, her brain cut off with her breath and her words, melted into him.

Leaning into the kiss, leaning into him, she slid an arm around his neck, and kissed him back, each intimate stroke of their duelling tongues adding to the sizzling excitement building low in her pelvis, would have crawled onto his lap to straddle him if he hadn’t pulled away from it.

Ready to cry at the withdrawal of his mouth, she gazed at him in bewilderment, barely able to think under the heavy pounding of her heart, and found herself lost in the blue-grey eyes probing her with a look she couldn’t begin to decipher.

After what felt like for ever had passed he rubbed his thumb over her cheek and bent his head for one final, gentle kiss. ‘There,’ he said softly. ‘Now you look like you’re in love.’