Page 3 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

She had never given him the satisfaction of outwardly hating him, and part of him couldn’t help but respect her for it.

Sometimes, he worried that she was a little too much the personal touchstone from which he’d made every choice since. Because the moment of her father’s death had changed him, set him on a new course, and her crying in a corner had started that change.

Except it wasn’ther, he reminded himself. It was simply what she had represented.

A realization that his father was a viper. There was no amount ofbusiness acumenAthan would ever employ enough to earn his father’s respect, no matter whom he betrayed. And if he couldn’t get that respect, he did not want to continue down the path to belikehis father.

Athan Akakios would be his own man. Maybe his past transgressions would never be forgiven—by Lynna or anyone else—but he had set out to be agoodman in the time since.

Well, once he got his revenge.

After the wedding, he would pull the rug out from under his father. He would do to his father what Constantine Akakios had once done to Aled Carew.

Maybe Lynna wouldn’t pretend she didn’t care so much then.

Athan had gotten word she’d arrived this morning, but he hadn’t seen her. Usually he liked to seek her out, try to get a rise out of her. She never took the bait, but he tried all the same.

Tonight, his father was arriving at the estate to prepare for Saturday night’s wedding. Along with Athan’s bride, they would all sit down to a dinner where they pretended to laugh and celebrate over one of Lynna’s incomparable meals.

But Athan would know it was all a lie. His father wasn’thappyfor him and would be even less so once the papers were signed. Because once they were, Athan would have the shares to handle the companyhisway.

And it would be without Constantine. In any role. Anywhere. Athan would make AC International legitimate. Respectable. No more shady deals to save a dollar. No more questionable alliances. Athan would make everything as it had once been, before he’d been young and naive enough to betray a good man.

A good family.

Thinking about that good family had him going in search of his hired chef. She was in the kitchen, dressed as she almost always was on these jobs. Head-to-toe black, and a colorful apron. Her thick brown hair was always pulled back in some complicated twist with colorful fastenings Athan wouldn’t have the first idea the names of.

“Good evening, Lynna. So good to have you back.”

She didn’t immediately turn. She didn’t stiffen. She, in fact, did not react to his presence or his voice in any way. She finished what she was doing—something fussy looking with herbs over sometiropitakia.

She made him wait—he liked to think it was on purpose, but she was a focused soul. Once she was satisfied with her work, she motioned for one of the kitchen staff to add them to a platter of hors d’oeuvres.

Then, very slowly and with the blandest of pleasant smiles, she turned to face him. Though he liked to think her blue eyes reflected a malice she tried to hide. “Hello, Mr. Akakios.”

He scowled at her, unable to stop himself. He tried to have as little of reaction to her as she did to him.

He never succeeded. “I have asked you not to call me that. Repeatedly.”

Her eyes went wide—she always had a flair for the dramatic, though she did such a good job of pretending otherwise. “My apologies. I must have forgotten. I havemanyclients.”

He wanted to point out that they’d known each other since she’d beenborn, and he was hardly just another client. But she would just say something else equally infuriating.

Besides, a staff member came in and hailed him.

“Mr. Akakios is here.”

Athan nodded. “What about Miss Giordano?”

“I will have someone track her down.”

“Very good. Have my father seated at the dining room table. I will be there momentarily.” He looked over at Lynna, wondering if the mention of Constantine might be enough to see a crack in her armor.

No such luck.

“This is your first time feeding my father,” he said to her, needling the point. “I hope we won’t require medical intervention after eating your food.”

She didn’t so much as blink. It was as if herblandnessintensified. The all-black outfit that hid any hint of a figure, boring brown hair pulled up and away aided in her attempt.

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