Page 67 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
CHAPTER SIX
T HE PALACE GATES opened for her, and in that brief moment Lydia felt like a bona fide princess.
She’d seen plenty of pictures of the palace, one of Europe’s largest, over the years, but nothing could have prepared her for its magnificence in the flesh.
In a country with a strong shared cultural heritage with its Greek neighbour Crete, its palace had a strong Middle Eastern flavour to it, as if it had long ago been built for a great Sultan, its multicoloured turrets and domed roofs gleaming under the midday sun.
Driving slowly through the magnificent grounds, she feared her heart might smash its way out of her chest.
Would Alexis even be there?
She’d been gently woken by a maid with her laundered clothes and a tray of coffee, fruit and pastries.
The bed had been empty, not even residual warmth on Alexis’s side.
But she’d caught the faint trace of his cologne lingering in the air and knew he must have showered and dressed in stealth mode.
A kindness to let her sleep a little longer?
Did he know that she’d still been wide awake hours after he’d fallen into a deep sleep, her thoughts wretched, longing for him to roll over and press into her, longing to roll over and press herself into him?
Or was he still too angry to want to speak to her?
Once she’d finished eating, she’d been given a short brown wig to disguise herself with and a credit card, and then taken to Agon’s swankiest hotel by Alexis’s driver with strict instructions to be ready for collection in two hours.
Inside, she’d been astounded to find numerous boutiques catering to all tastes.
Lydia could never explain to herself why she hadn’t grabbed the first pair of jeans and vaguely reasonable top to wear, nor why she’d bought makeup and perfume, nor why she’d spent so long in the guest shower room that she’d had to run to make it to the car park on time.
Nor did she understand why she wrenched the wig off as soon as the driver closed the door and then spent half the journey frantically brushing and fiddling with her hair.
And she would never be able to explain or understand why the fear that had rooted itself so tightly in the knots in her belly was the fear that Alexis had changed his mind, and that no matter how much she rubbed her belly and whispered to the tiny life inside it that its daddy would be there, that he was committing himself to them, she couldn’t shake off the even more deeply rooted fear that he would never commit himself solely to her .
As far as fears went, it was ludicrous because she’d loftily told him she didn’t demand or expect fidelity and he’d never even alluded to it. She shouldn’t want it. She shouldn’t. She wouldn’t.
Somehow she had to find a way to stop herself imagining him with other women. Learn to block her own thoughts, and, if that proved impossible, learn to control the sickness those thoughts always induced.
Be more Rebecca Tsaliki, she chanted to herself. Be more Rebecca Tsaliki.
If the palace itself had a Middle Eastern flavour, the royal chapel, its yellow walls excepted, was pure Greek.
Not a soul witnessed her slip through its doors. Only the prince, a mountain of a man bigger even than Alexis, his beautiful wife, Amelie, and the priest were there to greet her. And Alexis, standing at the altar…
Relief whooshed through every cell of her body. And something else, something that filled her chest and weakened her legs.
He met her at the aisle’s halfway point. His face was a mask she couldn’t read. ‘I thought you might have done a Lucie.’
She had to clear her choked throat. ‘I thought you might have done a Lucie too.’
His chest rose before a half-smile played on his lips, and she suddenly found herself overwhelmed with a longing to see the full-blown smile that had so warmed her the first time it had been bestowed on her all that time ago. ‘We made a deal, my angel. Now it is time to seal it.’
Alexis recited his vows still expelling relief that Lydia hadn’t fled from the hotel and taken the first flight off the island.
Even though his driver had messaged when he was en route to the palace, he’d been unable to shake the feeling that the car would arrive empty.
But she was here and so ravishingly beautiful that when she’d stepped into the chapel he’d felt her presence like a punch to his heart.
Having expected her to turn up in ripped jeans, and still furious that she’d believed he wouldn’t want to be a father, his ego punched all over again at her scathing dismissal of their weekend together, he’d been tempted to wear something similar, only changing into smart navy trousers and a white shirt at the last minute for the sole reason that they were marrying in a house of God and so he should at least make an effort to look respectable.
The last thing he’d expected was for Lydia to make an effort too. She was so naturally beautiful that she didn’t need to make an effort but when she did, the effect was breathtaking.
Far from wearing ripped jeans, she stood facing him at the altar in a creamy white floaty dress, the laced long-sleeved top half plunging in a V giving a hint of her growing cleavage, the flowing skirt ruched, the whole thing tied together with a thick brown belt at the waist. She looked like she should be running through a meadow with her long blonde hair trailing behind her.
Their vows made, the time had come to seal their marriage like they’d sealed their commitment to their deal of a real marriage—with a kiss.
Their eyes locked together. He pressed a hand into the small of her back A small hand slid onto his shoulder.
His heart thumping a roar in his head, Alexis brought his mouth down to hers as she lifted her mouth to his.
He glimpsed a sweep of her lashes before he closed his eyes and their lips fused together in a long, lingering kiss.
Breaking apart, he gazed again into the hazel eyes now brimming with an emotion he’d never seen in them before.
Euphoria slammed through him.
Lydia was his .
She was married. A married woman. Married to Alexis Tsaliki.
God help her.
Prince Talos had arranged a wedding meal for them in a stateroom in the palace, the four of them dining at a table that could comfortably seat fifty.
She was dining with royalty, a thought that was only a dim whisper in a head filled wholly with the man seated next to her, eating, chatting and laughing as if this were all just an ordinary meal. Her husband.
The wedding service itself had passed in a daze but she could still feel the mark of Alexis’s mouth from their kiss.
Still feel the longing that had ripped through her when he’d made his vows, a swelling of emotion that had filled her so completely she had no memory of reciting her own identical vows in turn.
‘I promise you love, honour and respect; to be faithful to you, and not to forsake you until death do us part…’
Why hadn’t it occurred to her that marrying in a chapel would mean reciting traditional vows?
And why, when the time had come to recite them, had it felt the most natural thing in the world when it was all a lie?
As if Alexis were going to be faithful to her!
As if he could ever love her! As if she could ever love him!
But it had all felt so natural and, in the moment, right, and now she had an impending sense of doom in the pit of her stomach that she’d just made the greatest mistake of her life.
A hand slid onto her thigh. She trembled as a jolt of electricity shot through her, and tightened her hold on the stem of her glass to stop herself seeking out the hand to hold it.
He was marking his territory, she told herself.
Reminding her that she was now his territory, reminding her of what was to come when they left the palace, and she didn’t know if her growing sickness was nerves, terror or excitement.
All she did know was that her heart had forgotten how to beat properly and when his fingers made gentle circles on her thighs, she didn’t know if she wanted to grab his hand to shove it off her or move it higher…
As desperately as she wished for time to slow down, it accelerated, their seven courses flashing by at such speed that before she knew it, she was being embraced by the prince and princess with wishes for a long and happy marriage that registered like a distant ringing in her ears.
When she climbed into the back of the car she realised she couldn’t remember a single thing she’d eaten or a single snippet of conversation.
Nerves hadn’t just kicked in, they were doing a full-blown cancan with a vigour that only increased when their car set off.
They were returning to Alexis’s apartment to consummate the marriage. To have sex. For Lydia to fulfil her side of their deal as Alexis had just fulfilled his.
A large, warm hand covered the fist she hadn’t even realised she’d made. ‘How are you feeling, wife ?’
Terrified.
She tried to conjure a smile. ‘Good. You?’
A slow smile curved his cheeks and he leaned his face closer to hers. ‘Very good.’
It was the blaze of sensuality in his eyes and the promise contained in it that had her sharply extract her hands from his on the pretext of removing her phone from her bag and checking her messages. She couldn’t bear the longing that swelled in her to see it.
Hugely aware of Alexis’s silent displeasure at her abrupt turning from him, even more aware that she was close to falling to pieces, Lydia bowed her head and tried to focus on reading the myriad messages she’d received from her mother with updates, along with the myriad messages from friends wanting to know what on earth was going on and why Thanasis and Lucie’s wedding had been called off.
And she tried harder than ever to block out the hunk of a man whose thigh was pressed against hers, and clear her body and mind of all the feelings and emotions ravaging her.