Page 23 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

Determined that this would be just the thing to cure her insomnia, Lynna left her room. She found herself…sneaking, essentially. Which was stupid. She lived here too. No matter how little she liked it, she was the owner’s wife.

Wife.

If she let that word rattle around in her head, she might start screaming. Maybe run out the front door.

And where would you go? Back to London? Back to all that hard work just to tread water? Just to fail your mother and Rhys?

No. It wasn’t an option. She’d made her choice and she had to live with it. For the people she loved most. Lynna had never once accepted failure in herself, and she would not start now.

She crept down the stairs, before she could make her way to the back of the house and the kitchen she heard voices. Low, dark, vicious voices.

Suspicious, she moved toward the sound. Coming from Athan’s library he’d showed her upon arrival. It was a lovely room. Not as bright and spacious as his office back in Mykonos, likely to protect the books from too much sunlight. Instead it was made of dark woods and deep colors, but it had been cozy. She’d been able to easily picture herself curled up on one of the oversize chairs reading in front of the fire on a cold night.

In the dim hallway, light from the library poured out. The door was open about halfway, so it was easy to see inside. To see Athan, still dressed as he’d been at dinner, and then Constantine. They spoke to one another in low tones, and Lynna stopped short with the terrible, horrible realization.

They were working together. This was the plan all along. She had been so stupid. So careless. She didn’t know what they wanted from her, when they’d already killed her father and won a million times over, but what else could this be?

Her breath sawed in and out, her heart beating loudly in her ears, but then…she remembered what Athan had said before they’d left Mykonos.

He’d been so sure Constantine would arrive the moment they were here.

Her breathing slowed. Was this just some father-son…spat? She calmed enough to actually listen to what they were saying.

“People will see through this farce, Athan. I take no joy in ending you, but if it must be done, I will do it. I will ruin you. Once and for all. This is your final chance to be saved.”

Lynna found herself holding her breath, not sure how Athan would react. He seemed determined to overthrow his father, but maybe he would falter? Maybe he would take whatever deal Constantine was offering? Maybe he was all talk and absolutely no wherewithal.

Even as she tried to believe that, she knew in her heart it wasn’t true. She could fault Athan for many things, but being weak willed was not one of them.

“You know, it’s funny, Lynna called you the devil. And I’m afraid I can no longer do deals with the devil when I have married a saint.”

So no, this was not the moment of Athan’s inevitable betrayal—one she knew could come at any moment and had to remember that.

She knew he didn’treallythink her a saint, but he wasn’t taking whatever his father was offering. And it was clearly making Constantine angry. His voice wasn’t slick anymore. It was all venom.

“Do you honestly expect anyone to believe you care for that mousy, pathetic, pudgyservantgirl? Everyone will know it’s a transparent ploy to win over her father’s idiotic supporters.”

Mousy, pathetic, pudgy servant girl.The absolute gall of that man to narrow her down to his opinion on her looks and her position as apersonalchef. As if that was all anyone could ever see when they looked at her.

She couldn’t hear Athan’s response over the roaring in her head. She thought maybe he laughed, but she couldn’t be sure.

Because she wasn’t about to let that stand. Maybe her marriage to Athan would never bereal, but now she was bound and determined for Constantine to think it was.

It was rage and pride and a million other things that had her acting. Stupid, mostly, but she did it anyway. She undid the belt on her robe. Her pajamas weren’t exactly sexy lace, but the tank top she wore was soft and thin and dipped a little to give a hint of cleavage. She let the robe slide off her shoulders, hook at her elbows.

She pushed the door open farther, trying to make her expression into one of silky promise and intent.

Two pairs of dark eyes turned to her. She feigned shock, rushed to pull her robe together as though she had not expected to find anyone but her husband in his library.

“Oh. Athan. I… I didn’t realize you’d been…” she looked from Athan to Constantine, widened her eyes “…distracted.”

Athan’s mouth curved, dark eyes amused. “Darling, I apologize for not returning immediately. But my father had stopped by to offer his congratulations.” He was picking up the thread easily. He held out his arm and she moved across the room to him, let him wrap it around her waist and pull her to his side. She ignored howwarmit was here, howhardhe felt against her side.

She had acting to do. So she leaned into Athan, smiled at Constantine, though the smile threatened to curdle at the edges. “It’s awfully late for congratulations,” she offered, not hiding the censure in her tone.

Constantine’s expression was not rage exactly. His color was high, he was breathing a little heavily, but she couldseethe wheels in his head all but turning as he surveyed them.

Then he moved toward them, and Lynna felt a bit like she was being stalked by a lion. It was only Athan’s strong arm around her that allowed her to feel…protected. And stopped her from backing away.

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