Page 27 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

“She isnotpregnant,” Athan said through gritted teeth.

Ophelia nodded. “Then that rumor will take care of itself in time. I have a meeting with your legal team shortly to go over our best course of action since these headlines are more direct in nature and come from a legitimate news source. But I came by to recommend a few public events with your wife. Along with the altercation story planted by your father, these stories will spread because she’s mysterious. So, we must end any mystery. Take her out, show her off and let her story be told.”

He wasn’t sure how Lynna would feel about that, but he supposed they didn’t have much of a choice. “Yes. Consult with Niko about my calendar. The dinners I have set up are nonmovable, but anything else is negotiable if there are events we should be seen at.”

Ophelia nodded, collected her phone and turned to leave, but Athan stopped her.

“I want my own story planted. One that questions Constantine’s relationship with a woman nearly thirty years his junior, who was my fiancée not that long ago.” He knew he was on the right track, andthatwas why he was a target, why Lynna was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a few targets of his own.

Ophelia shook her head. “Mr. Akakios, if you bring any attention to your previous fiancée, you will only have people wondering why you rushed to marry Ms. Carew.” Ophelia waved her phone back and forth. “That is, if she is not pregnant.”

Athan wanted to crush something. Perhaps his father’s windpipe. “She isnot. Find a story then. Something that will havehimfielding obnoxious phone calls all day. I want it done by tomorrow.”

Ophelia looked disapproving, but she gave a nod before leaving. She would do what needed to be done.

And so would Athan.

* * *

Lynna found herself humming as she prepared dinner. She loved Athan’s kitchen. Whoever had designed it was brilliant. All the items she’d wanted—both in terms of tools and in terms of ingredients—had arrived by the time she’d returned from shopping—where she’d handpicked some of her own supplies as well.

Along with clothes more fitting for dinners with Athan’s associates. Many of whom she probably knew, if superficially. Her father had enjoyed bringing people to their home. Mother had enjoyed entertaining. And while her and Rhys had often not been involved in those dinners, they’d often been at the very least introduced, especially as they’d gotten older. Father had wanted them to follow him into AC International.

Lynna had never had any aspirations of business, but Rhys had.

Rhys was the reason for all of this. Because she’d realized that all of Athan’s plans would necessitate talking about her father, which she avoided like the plague. For Rhys, she would suffer through it.

Besides, she knew how to reroute a conversation. Mother liked to reminisce, to get lost in all thatgrief. Lynna preferred to set it aside. To focus on the reality of the situation. So she knew the tricks to turn the conversation to something more…productive, without itseeminglike she was avoiding the topic of her father.

Father was gone. A tragedy, really, but not one that could be undone. So speaking of the good times, of his warmth and humor before the Akakios family had humiliated and ruined him was…

“Pointless,” she told herself fiercely and out loud so her brain got the message.

She began to prepare a salad while her roast cooked, and soon enough she heard footsteps. Her current method of dealing with Athan was to never take her focus away from the food until she knew she was done, until she knew she could handle the…sharp, overwhelming blow that was just…him.

The way he’d grinned at her after kissing herhairthis morning, all humor and mischief and something that pulled out the strangest sensations in her. Not just…sexualfeelings, but a matching humor when she wanted to hate him.

Shedidhate him.

But today she was too curious about what might have gone on at his work regarding the tabloid stories to pretend like he wasn’t there, or she didn’t know if he was or not. So she looked up as he entered.

He wore a crisp suit, though his tie was slightly askew as if he’d loosened it.

She could tell just from the expression on his face that he did not arrive with good news. And something spooled within her chest, an odd kind of…reaction. She could almost picture herself crossing to him and offering him a comforting hug.

Which was the most ridiculous little detour her brain had ever taken. She turned her attention back to the salad. “Have the assault stories spread?”

“Not exactly. It appears my father has chosen to cast a wide net when it comes to stories.” He came to stand right next to her, holding out a phone.

With purposeful and careful movements that she considered a pointed retaliation against the things her bodywantedto do when she felt thewarmthof him so close, she angled her body away from his even as she took the proffered phone.

There was a picture. A ridiculous headline about their marriage and her pregnancy.

“This is… I was simply shopping.” Lynna frowned at the picture of herself. It was not the most flattering angle, but she definitely wasnotpregnant, in any way, shape or form.

But what had Athan said this morning? Truths didn’t matter. It was all perception, and she was familiar with the games media played when it came to women’s bodies.

“I should have seen this coming,” Athan said, sounding apologetic. “An interest in you from the press, spearheaded by my father. His goal is to humiliate, and he is an expert.”

---