Page 33 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

She didn’t seem to know who she was any more. She was no longer a rich man’s housekeeper, but she didn’t feel much like a wife either. In fact, she didn’t feel like a wife at all.

Because things had changed between her and Odysseus. He had become increasingly distant since the night of their wedding and she wasn’t sure how to fix it.

This wassupposedto be a brief honeymoon before they flew out to Tuloranka, but she’d scarcely seen her husband. Stirring some sugar into her coffee, she willed the stupid lump in her throat to subside. Had she expected marriage to bring them closer? Guilty. But there were plenty of other crimes she could add to her charge sheet of unrealistic expectations. Despite all her best intentions, she knew perfectly well that she’d fallen for him. But was that so very surprising? It wasn’t as if she was in a club of one, was it? Not if you read the reports of women who’d been smitten with the Greek billionaire in the past.

He’d explicitly warned her that he didn’tdolove, but Grace had chosen to blot out those warnings. Secretly, she had hoped for more. When he’d told her about his awful childhood, her heart had melted like butter. His bitter disclosure had given her a glimmer of hope that their relationship had the ability to deepen and she’d been longing to show him some of the affection he’d grown up without.

But she hadn’t got the chance, because his emotional retreat from her had been immediate and almost tangible. Was he regretting having let his guard down during his bitter revelation about his early years? Was that why he closeted himself away in his office day after day, making it very clear that her presence in his private lair was unwelcome? She’d learnt that any attempts to entice him away from his busy schedule were doomed to failure, so that in the end she’d given up trying. At first she had consoled herself with the knowledge that he would always appear by late afternoon, giving them time for a blissful bout of sex before early-evening drinks. Afterwards, they would dine by candlelight on the sunset terrace and she guessed that, to an observer, everything must have looked just fine.

Sometimes, she even managed to convince herself itwasfine. His quickness of mind and rare flashes of humour continued to captivate her and his capacity for physical pleasure remained undiminished. He could dissolve her doubts and uncertainties with a single kiss and sometimes, in those moments, she was certain that she loved him. But those kind of thoughts were dangerous. Wouldn’t he be horrified if he knew? Of course he would. And the longer this went on, the more she would lose her own identity—hankering after a man who seemed determined to push her away.

More than that, she was lonely. At least in Venice she’d had her friends and the familiarity of a city she’d known most of her life, even if she had been working for the boss from hell. But this loneliness was different. It went bone-deep. She forced herself to read books from the vast library and made serious inroads into learning Greek—sometimes helped by Marinos, who would practise his English on her. Odysseus had employed a female coach to help improve her swimming technique and every morning she used the vast pool, getting more proficient and fitter than she’d been in years. But there was only so much displacement activity you could engage in before your head started wanting to explode.

Finishing her coffee, she went up to their room, where the bed had already been made—the pristine new sheets giving no sign of the previous night’s passion. She thought of the way he held her every night. The way he drove into her and buried his face in her hair when it was over, his breathing harsh until he had steadied it enough to whisper her name in a way which made her heart clench. Wasn’t it all too easy to feel that she meant something tohimin those moments? That she was more than just a convenient wife—a tick on the list of requirements for a successful man?

But those longings never lasted—they were banished by the sight of the now-familiar mask Odysseus put on as he got dressed each morning, the stony perfection of his features making him resemble a gorgeous stranger.

This morning, even the vast garden was making her feel claustrophobic and suddenly Grace knew she had to get away from the villa before she drove herself crazy. Cramming on the straw hat which Sofia had gifted her as a wedding present, she prepared for a walk—sensibly covering her shoulders in a cap-sleeved cotton dress before running downstairs to ask Evangelia for some water.

‘The master, he knows you are going out?’ the housekeeper questioned doubtfully.

The master! An infuriating and outdated description, but not as infuriating as the illicit thrill of pleasure it triggered, as Grace acknowledged its implications of dominance and power. Resisting the impulse to enquire whether she needed the Greek billionaire’s permission to actuallyleavethe building, Grace shook her head.

‘He’s busy working,’ she said, taking the flask of chilled water Evangelia held out to her, unable to iron the sarcasm from her voice as Gouri the cat arched her back and hissed at her. ‘And I’d hate to disturb him.’

But a few minutes of brisk walking soon calmed her ruffled senses and she found her mood automatically lifted by the beauty of the island as she got further away from the villa. The sky was blue and the sea even bluer, glittering like dark sapphires beneath the beat of the sun. She didn’t see another soul as she made steady progress along the cliff path and as the sun rose higher, she was cheered by the sight of a small harbour in the distance. Carefully, she began to pick her way towards it, down a winding path edged with an abundance of wild flowers.

The temperature was higher than expected and the village further away than she thought and Grace was boiling by the time she reached the gleaming waterside. Wiping her clammy brow with the back of her hand, she looked around. The place was completely deserted—the fisherman must have returned with their catch hours ago and there was nobody else to be seen. By now her water bottle was almost empty and as she spotted a tiny taverna, she decided to get a drink and a refill. Blinking a little as she went inside, she felt as if she were in one of those old Western movies her nana used to watch. Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. Did they know who she was? Did the sparkle of the fabulous yellow diamond engagement ring on her finger proclaim her as the new bride of the island’s owner?

Using the small amount of Greek she’d learned, she bought a glass of fizzy water and gulped it down while her water bottle was being replenished. Looking around the small bar at the other customers, she was just psyching herself up for the long walk back when she saw someone she recognised. Sitting playing cards at the back of the room was Marinos, Evangelia’s son, and Grace’s heart lifted as he got up and came towards her.

‘Marinos.Yiasu!’ She smiled. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to see a familiar face.’

‘Kyria Diamides.’ His smile was rather cautious. ‘You are a long way from home.’

She wondered what the shy student would say if she told him that Odysseus’s lavish villa didn’t feel remotely like home—but she guessed that was the story of her life. ‘I’ve come much further than I thought,’ she admitted.

‘If you like, I can take you back.’

She opened her mouth to refuse, but making her way back up those cliffs in the soaring heat was the sort of foolhardy escapade which gave the English such a terrible reputation on the continent. ‘That’d be great. Have you got a car?’

He shook his head and grinned. ‘I have my motorbike.’

Once outside, he handed her a spare helmet which was strapped to the bike, and after cramming it on and folding up her straw hat, Grace climbed gingerly on the back.

‘I’ve never been on a motorbike before,’ she warned him.

‘It’s easy,’ he reassured her. ‘Once you know how.’

He showed her which way to lean when they went round a bend and, considerately, kept his speed down and Grace found the journey back nothing short of exhilarating. Back at the estate, she thanked him and made her way through the grounds where the glorious air-conditioned cool of the villa greeted her. Slipping off her sandals, she padded barefoot up the delicious cool of the marble staircase and as she pushed open the door of their bedroom, her only thought was to stand beneath the welcome jets of a cold shower and put on a clean dress.

She didn’t see him at first.

Why would she, when she hadn’t expected him to be there? When he blended so well with the shadows—this man of intense shade, rather than light? He was sitting in an alcove in one corner of the room, a computer open in front of him but he wasn’t looking at the screen. Despite her barefooted noiselessness, he must have heard her come in because he turned round, and she could see the flicker of something she didn’t recognise glittering in the depths of his blue eyes.

‘Good day?’ he questioned evenly.

Grace didn’t know why she’d been holding her breath, only that it was leaving her mouth in a gentle hiss. But her sense of unease remained and she didn’t know why. ‘Great, thanks. I went out for a walk only I went further than I intended and nearly ran out of water and I ended up in a taverna and…’ She was aware that she was babbling but couldn’t seem to stop herself. ‘And Marinos was there and he brought me back on his motorbike.’

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