Page 206 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8

That was precisely her fear, she admitted to herself. New fears of how much she wanted him, and old fears of being hurt and taken advantage of. Of sacrificing the control she’d fought so hard for.

‘Of course not,’ she muttered, looking around to make sure she was still alone, a little way off the beaten tourist track. ‘But it’s not the nineteen fifties. I’m more than capable of making my own way to you.’

She waited for him to argue and wondered how long she’d hold her steel for, but then he simply said, ‘Okay. I’ll text you the restaurant. See you at eight, Jane.’

She let out a breath of relief.

‘And Jane?’

Her heart skipped a beat.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again.’ He disconnected the call, and Jane closed her eyes on a rush of awareness and a growing sense of panic.

She had about five hours to talk some sense into herself and retrain her body so that it wouldn’t practically melt whenever he was nearby. Five hours to remind herself that the only reason she was seeing this man—this man she hated on behalf of her best friend and womankind everywhere—was because of the horribly old-fashioned term of inheritance. This meant the world to Lottie, and there was no way Jane was going to let her down. Not after everything she’d already been denied in her life. Jane had her back and always would. She just wished she could stop fantasising about Zeus!

Five minutes after eight, she strode into the restaurant in yet another dress she’d borrowed, this time from her mother’s wardrobe. It was a couture dress from a few summers ago, meaning her mother had long since forgotten it existed and wouldn’t miss it. A vibrant pink, with slender straps, it clung to the torso then flared at the hips in a skirt that fell to just beneath the knees in a classic prom dress silhouette. But there was something risqué about the dress and the way the back hung low, revealing the line of her spine to just above the curve of her bottom.

She’d teamed it with flats tonight. Even for Lottie and this scheme, she couldn’t force her feet into another pair of high heels. Not after she’d walked all over Athens and was still recovering from a dose of pinch-toe-itis courtesy of the night before.

‘This way, madam,’ a waiter said with a deferential bow when she told him her name.

He led her through the restaurant, past the incredible windows that showed views towards the Acropolis, towards yet another room, this time small enough for one table, and with a sheer curtain hanging across the doorway.

Her heart plunged.

She’d been hoping to sit across from him in a crowded restaurant, not to be in yet another out of the way table like this, with the magic of Athens glittering in the background. They had their own private window, though she supposed, if it was any consolation, the view was hardly likely to get more than a second glance from Jane, given that Zeus was standing up to greet her.

‘Jane,’ he said, crossing towards her, ignoring the waiter, who faded into the background. She swallowed, but her mouth was inexplicably dry and there was nothing she could do to moisten it. He took her hands in his, held them for a moment then lifted one to his lips. Her stomach dropped to her toes; her insides squeezed with recognition.

‘Zeus,’ she said, trying to focus. Trying to remember how she needed to act—for Lottie—but also for herself.

‘Thank you for meeting me.’

She arched a brow then gestured towards the window, glad to wrestle back control of her hand. ‘You promised to show me the sights. You weren’t lying.’

‘I never lie,’ he said, and guilt coloured Jane’s face. Shewasn’tlying to him, though, just by omitting her connection with his family and her reason for being here. He hadn’t asked; she was under no obligation to volunteer the information. He put a hand on her hip then, drawing her closer to him, and he kissed her cheek in a manner that was somehow so much more intimate than anything they’d done the night before. A shiver ran the length of her spine.

‘I—’ she whispered, voice husky. ‘I need to tell you something,’ she said, pulling away so she could see his face. And the importance of this moment slammed into her. The knowledge that what she told him might ruin Lottie’s plan—but that it had to be done. She couldn’t keep doing this without putting some guardrails in place; it was too dangerous for Jane. Too hard for her.

His eyes bore into hers and he nodded without making any effort to put some distance between them.

‘Last night—what happened in the bar—’

‘I thought we discussed this already.’

‘No, you decreed I shouldn’t explain, but that’s not good enough. I have to.’

Amusement sculpted his lips and lifted his brows. ‘I decreed?’

‘Yes. You’re very bossy, you know,’ she said with a semi-apologetic grimace.

‘I have been told that before.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Not often so gently, either,’ he added, and one side of her lips tugged upwards in a smile. ‘Go on, Jane. Explain whatever it is you would like to say.’ He pressed a finger beneath her chin, though, lifting her gaze to his. ‘Though I do not consider anything requires an explanation. As I said last night, I felt it, too.’

‘You felt what, exactly?’