Page 23 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

There was a pause, and as he shrugged he was the personification of cool, male arrogance. ‘Because I can.’

Grace was breathing rapidly as he studied her expectantly because his suggestion was completely bonkers and yet… She swallowed. The thought of not having to worry about the ever-escalating cost of Nana’s care was hugely tempting, but so too was the thought of living a normal life and doing normal things. Because lately the miserable nature of her job had become ever more apparent—like the slow drip of a tap which gradually became a big puddle—and for the first time ever, she allowed herself to consider an alternative. No more rising at the crack of dawn and going out in all weathers to procure the only cornetto in the city which her boss would contemplate eating for breakfast. No more cancelling stuff at the last minute because Vincenzo had some trifling complaint. No more sitting in that big, dark house most evenings while the clock ticked away the hours and her life.

But that life was the only one she had ever really known, locked into a situation which was highly unusual for a woman of her age. Restrictive, yes but undoubtedly safe—and sometimes the outside world seemed a little…daunting. Because Odysseus was only talking temporary. She wouldn’t have him by her side for long. What if she took a leap and everything came crashing down around her ears? ‘And if I said yes, what would happen?’

‘You collect your things and fly to my island home in Greece. We’ll get married there. Don’t expect romance, because I am not a romantic man. No fuss. No frills.’ His sapphire eyes glinted with mockery. ‘So I hope you weren’t holding out for a big dress on your wedding day.’

Ignoring his sarcasm, she bit her lip because she had far more immediate concerns on her mind. ‘And what if Vincenzo tries to stop me?’

Suddenly all that mockery and humour was gone. ‘Kalós theós epifónima, Grace,’ he bit out. ‘He’s your employer, not your damned jailer! But just to reassure you, I will ensure that a bodyguard will be at your side at all times.’

And then she asked him, because shehadto ask him, ‘Why…why do you hate him so much?’

The silence which followed seemed endless as he seemed to weigh up whether or not he could trust her. ‘Because he rejected my mother,’ he said at last, his words harsh and bitter. ‘He kicked her out when she was pregnant and she…’ He shook his head. ‘The rest doesn’t matter. That’s all history. Vincenzo Contarini is history,’ he ground out. ‘And I forbid you to worry about him any more, do you understand?’

Forbid was a powerful word, but right then it was making Grace feel protected. As if he were warding off the unsavoury elements of her life and rescuing her from all the drudgery, and she was too caught up in the violent swirl of her emotions to recognise just how dangerous a concept this was.

And she wanted him, that was the thing. The single element which dominated everything else. She wanted him with a hunger she’d never experienced before. He had awoken her senses. Made her feel like a woman. Made her feel as ifthiswas the person she was always meant to be. How could she contemplate going back to that miserable existence and saying goodbye to him, knowing that this unlikely relationship could never work as an affair?

But she could only say yes if she accepted his boundaries and, really, there was only one which mattered.

She mustn’t ever fall in love with him.

No matter what the provocation, nor how great the sex.

‘Okay, then,’ she said carelessly, not wanting to scare him off by soundingtooeager. ‘I’ll marry you.’

CHAPTER NINE

‘Wow,’saidGracesoftly and then, because the word seemed hopelessly inadequate, she said it again. ‘Justwow.’

‘You like it?’

She could hear the note of pleasure in Odysseus’s voice and who could blame him? Once again, she took in the panoramic view, shown at its breathtaking best from their viewpoint on the hilltop. The island of Kosmima was nothing short of paradise—no wonder the Greek billionaire had chosen to live there.

There were beaches of silvery sand, citrus trees heavy with bloom and the mingled scents of thyme and salt perfuming the warm air. Directly behind her stood Odysseus’s home—a dazzling white villa set in flower-filled grounds and featuring a vast infinity swimming pool. Inside, his taste was for quiet opulence and superb art. The house was bright and spacious and couldn’t have been more different from the dark and twisty house she’d grown up in, but Grace had loved it on sight. His offices were in a separate part of the sweeping grounds, though she couldn’t help noticing that they hadn’t been included in her tour of the property—as if he were erecting boundaries and keeping her out of his private space. She’d met his housekeeper, Evangelia, whose son, Marinos, was visiting from university in Thessaloniki, as well as Evangelia’s cat, a black and white ball of fur which had hissed at Grace in a very unfriendly manner.

She had flown in from Venice earlier that day and, as they had circled the crescent-shaped island, the pilot had pointed out the solar panels and wind turbines which made Kosmima self-sufficient for energy. With its abundant olive-oil crop and a daily catch of fish which was apparently haggled over by pretty much every Michelin-starred restaurant in Europe, the tiny island was thriving.

‘I love it,’ she said honestly, meeting the question in Odysseus’s sapphire eyes.

‘So you won’t object to getting married from here?’

‘Is that a joke? How could anyone possibly have any objections about this place?’

‘It is a little isolated for some tastes,’ he observed.

‘But not yours, obviously.’

‘It’s one of the main reasons I bought here.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘And the other reasons?’

‘You mean, apart from its natural, unspoiled beauty and some of the best sailing in the world?’ A slow smile curved his lips. ‘Mostly, I like the fact that nobody comes to see me without my permission.’

‘And what about leaving?’ she said, her voice very deliberate. ‘How does that work?’

‘That can happen at any time of your choosing, Grace,’ he answered softly. ‘Or mine.’

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