Page 36 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

She was not so good at pretending he wasn’t there when she couldn’t distract herself with cooking.

“The dress is beautiful.”

Her chin came up a fraction. “Thank you,” she said.

Her hair was pinned up in strands, much like it had been on their wedding day. Colorful jewels winked at her ears. She kept her profile to him, elegant neck, lofty expression. Regal, all in all.

“You must have to work very hard to make yourself look so drab on your jobs.”

Slowly, she turned to look at him, affront in every inch of her expression.

Maybe he’d done it on purpose. Maybe he couldn’t quite help himself. Some sort of deep-seated need to get her to look at him, react to him. Childish, no doubt.

But shewaslooking at him now.

“Drab,” she repeated, as if she didn’t quite understand the word when applied to her.

He wanted to laugh. There was something so…somethingabout her. The way she said things, the way she held herself. Her sharp, dismissive reactions to him. The vulnerable way she accepted a compliment. He wanted to puzzle through it all.

He decided it all suited their purposes. His near obsession with her. This want. Everyone would see it and assume it love. People loved that little fantasy, almost as much as if notasmuch as they loved a salacious tale.

Every picture would reflect a man besotted, and if he was, he supposed no matter how strange and out of character it was, it was not like he believed in some end goal of happy-ever-after. He could try to be a better man, but being agoodone forgiven for all his past transgressions was impossible. So…

“All that frumpy black.”

“I amstaffwhen you see me. It is my job to blend in.”

“And now you are my wife.” He liked to say it. Out loud. Watch the way she tried to hide her reaction to the word. Sometimes a wince, sometimes a scowl. Would she spend a year scowling over it, or could he potentially get her to enjoy some piece of it?

When they beat Constantine, maybe. When he talked her into bed, definitely.

Because he would and they would enjoy their time—or at least, he would endeavor to. Then they would part. Both having gotten what they wanted, more or less.

He did not know why the thought left him feelingrestless. Moody. But it wasn’t the thought. It was just this aching, persistentwanthe’d brought upon himself for being fool enough to touch her.

“Ophelia has the biography ready to go. Once the pictures begin to circulate, she’ll make sure it’s distributed.”

Lynna’s response was muted. She’d approved the biography and knew the reasons behind why so many people were interested in her—thanks to Constantine’s stories. But he knew she wasn’t fullycomfortablewith the speculation about her as a person.

Still, she was going through with this. Still, they werepartnersin this. It was a new experience Athan had not expected to enjoy so much.

When the car arrived at their destination, Athan got out of the car and went to her side to help her out himself. He opened the door, held his hand out. She hesitated, and he knew it was because any physical touch reminded her of that moment in the pantry.

She had wanted him every bit as much as he’d wanted her. He should not have taunted her into telling him to stop, but he wanted no confusion.

If she wanted him, she would have to make that choice herself. Not leave it up to him. Not give herself anoutwhen it came to the responsibility of her own choice.

“Smile for the cameras,omorfiá mou. We have a crowd to dazzle.”

* * *

Lynna had tried to prepare herself for people wanting to take her picture. For a charity ball, for a reminder of the glittery life her parents had once led and she’d had a few glimpses of before her father had lost everything.

It was a lot, and yet none of it was more than trying to deal with her reaction to Athan, and his obnoxious determination or need orwhateverto not ignore the little spark of chemistry that seemed to exist between them.

When he could, and should, just as she was trying to do.

She kept telling herself to prepare for her body’s reaction to him. She kept assuring herself time would allow her the ability to brace herself, to ice it and him out.

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