Page 24 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

Which she was not going to think too deeply about considering she hated both of these men.

Hated.

“Perhaps I have seen the error of my ways,” Constantine said, in a low, purring voice when he was close—too close. “You hide your assets, Lynna. Why don’t you show them off?” He even reached out, as if he was going to pull the robe off her.

Lynna jerked back in horror and disgust, but then in a blur, Constantine was gone. Well, sort of.

Athan had him pinned up against the wall, his forearm against Constantine’s throat.

But Constantine didn’t lookscared, even as Lynna’s heart clattered around in her rib cage at the shock of it all. The older mansmiled.

“Perhaps you should call the police, Ms. Carew,” he rasped. “It seems yourhusbandhas assaulted me.”

“If you ever try to touch my wife again, she will be calling the police to report a murder.”

“Threats? Athan.” Constantine tsked. “This isshocking.”

Lynna held her breath. For a moment, she was afraid Athan was actually going to commit that murder. It likely wouldn’t take him much to crush his father’s windpipe right then and there.

But then Athan released him, so abruptly Constantine stumbled a bit before he righted himself. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” he said to Athan, then strode out of the room.

Athan stood stock-still. He stared at the point on the wall he’d had his father pinned against. She had never seen him look quite so…dangerous and devastated at the same time.

Lynna also didn’t move. She didn’t know what to say. It took time for her heart to stop hammering at her, for the fear and thrill of too many things to dissipate.

“I thought I’d find a weak spot,” Athan said after what must have been several ticking minutes. He blew out a long, loud breath that left Lynna feeling…

Off-balance. Like she’d stumbled upon a private moment. That Athan might be human instead of the evil demon she wanted him to be.

“Instead, I suppose he found mine,” Athan added, somewhat thoughtfully. Perhaps a little too resignedly for her taste.

“A bad temper?” she offered, hoping to get some…response out of him that put them back on their normal footing.

He turned slowly, his gaze met hers, too direct, too potent. “You,” he said gravely, that dark voice like an arrow that landed low in her stomach, a pooling, painful heat. “It was never my intention to make you a target.”

He said this with a gravity that had too many things inside of her trying tomelt, but she had to harden herself against him. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as Constantine, maybe he’d defended her when she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t had to defend herself, maybe he almost seemed human in this moment, but he was still her enemy.

“You thought I could just be a pawn you got to move how you wanted with no consequences?” she asked, doing her best to sound haughty instead of winded.

He shook his head, suddenly looking exhausted. “Never mind,” he said. “I suppose I should call my own lawyer.”

“You don’t actually think…”

“It’s my father’s specialty. Poke at someone until they come undone. Then use their outburst against them either with veiled threats or police action. He will do something, and it will be on my doorstep by morning.”

It was awful. Underhanded and awful. So, of course, it suited Constantine to the bone. And no doubt she should leave Athan to deal with it, but…

Well, he had reacted that way in protection ofher. Now, she wasn’t silly enough to believe it was because of some great protective feeling he had towardher, or even some inner sense of goodness since he was an Akakios and could have none, but he had done it all the same.

“Come,” she said firmly. She walked out of the library, striding for the kitchen. She didn’t know if he followed, and she told herself she didn’t care. If he came, she would make him a sundae. If he did not, he was on his own for comfort.

She didn’t look behind her. She just moved into the kitchen and began to collect everything she’d need.

Once she had everything out, she ventured a look around the room. Athan had seated himself on a stool at the counter and was watching her intently.

“What is this?” he asked, clearly because she’d stopped.

She set the bowls out, took the lid off the ice cream. “It is the makings of a sundae. Subpar, as I do not have the time this late to make the brownies from scratch, or the ingredients to make any kind of sauce, so we will have to do with store-bought.”

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