Page 219 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
‘We can explore the Med, all the little islands to the south. And more importantly, we can explore each other.’
Her whole body was screaming at her to say yes. It was more tempting than she could put into words. But her brain was kicking and shouting, because a week on his yacht was just the kind of vulnerability that she’d learned to avoid like the plague. She would be completely at his whim, completely at his command. If she was wrong about him, and he wasn’t trustworthy and decent, then what?
Only, she wasn’t wrong.
She knew that.
In a way she’d never felt about Steven, she fundamentally understood Zeus, and knew that, just as he’d said, he’d never hurt her.
A week on his yacht. A week away from Athens. Away from his business. A week where she could pretend it was just him, and her, and all the reasons she had for meeting him in the first place didn’t exist. A sneaky little cheat, a bubble, a break from agonising over what she should do. Because a week on his yacht had a definitive beginning, a middle and an end, and when that end came, he would drop her back in a port, she’d get to a plane and go home, away from him, and the most beautifully complicated, utterly addictive man and situation she’d ever known.
‘I say yes,’ she whispered, and then she smiled, because in the midst of her angsting a solution had come that just made sense. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ And they both laughed as though neither had a care in the world.
Another first, he thought, as later that night his driver deposited them at the marina. Having been to her hotel, waiting for Jane to pack up her things, his patience was at an all-time low. He wanted to be alone with her, more than he could say.
It wasn’t like they’d be completely alone on the yacht—there was a full-time captain, a cook and a housekeeper, but it was more than big enough for the staff to have their own quarters, leaving Zeus and Jane free to explore one another, just as he’d promised.
Promised on a whim. Without any forethought or planning. Promised because she’d thrown a date at him that seemed too soon for how much he enjoyed her company. And yet, he’d felt relief, most of all. Because she was going, and when Jane left, everything in his life would be so much simpler. Without her here to crave, he would simply move on, refocus on Philomena, or someone like her. A sensible, easy-going wife who would be just as pragmatic about the union as he’d be, who would never threaten his independence or equilibrium. At some point, the matter of children would become an issue, but that was also a pragmatic decision, and he intended to foreshadow it with whomever he married.
Until then, he had a week with Jane, and he intended to enjoy every damned minute of that week, until she was out of his system once and for all. It wasn’t normal to obsess over someone like this. It sure as hell wasn’t normal for Zeus. But he wasn’t worried. A week gave them time, and at the end of it, no matter what, he’d let her go and focus on the thing that mattered most to him in the world: securing his future as sole owner of the Papandreo Group. Jane was just a blip in his life, and after this week, he’d remember that.
It probably wasn’t even really about Jane. At least, not completely. Three months ago, his mother had died. After more than a decade of preparing for it, of knowing it was coming, it had still fractured parts of him he hadn’t realised could be touched any longer. Then, two weeks ago, his father had told him about his affair, about the daughter he’d fathered and financially supported all her life. And there’d been such longing in Aristotle’s face, such regret, that Zeus had known that the older man wasn’t going to let it go, either. As far as he was concerned, that was his daughter, as much as Zeus was his son. A muscle jerked in his jaw as angry defiance surged through him.
All the touchstones of his life were shaking—as if a large earthquake were persistently rumbling the foundations of his existence. And then there was Jane. A light in the dark. A distraction from everything. A reprieve.
After this week, he’d have to face reality. He’d have to get serious about shoring up his position in the company. He’d have to marry. For the first time, contemplating that brought an acrid taste to his mouth and he ground his teeth, wishing he could rebel against the provision of the company’s founding documents.
Except…
Were it not for that provision, Aristotle’s love child would have an even greater claim on all things Papandreo, wouldn’t she? At least the provision gave a black-and-white requirement of ownership. He tried not to imagine her. He knew nothing about her yet—he was still waiting on information from the detective he’d hired—but he supposed it would not be difficult for anyone to propose a marriage like the one he was intending on offering to Philomena. Autonomy, independence, freedom, unimaginable wealth and, one day, a child, when the time was right. What if she’d already found someone willing to undertake marriage on those terms?
A bead of perspiration formed at the nape of his neck, but he refused to give in to that now.
He was here, with Jane, and he was going to damn well enjoy the week. After that, he’d put everything in motion for the rest of his life. A life without Jane in it.
‘Let me guess,’ she murmured, looking at the boats in the marina, a fingertip pressed to her perfectly shaped lips, so the unpleasantness of his thoughts evaporated on a sharp wave of need. ‘Yours is—’ she scanned the line of craft ‘—that one.’
She pointed to a reasonably sized boat with a gleaming ‘P’ on the side. ‘No, that’s the Petrakises’.’
‘Oh.’ She frowned, went back to looking and then her eyes widened when they landed on a boat so much larger than the others that it almost didn’t register at first. ‘Not that one?’
He saw the amazement on her features and laughed. ‘You’d prefer to bob around at sea in one of these?’ He gestured to the small boats in front of them.
‘I’m not complaining.’ She winked, all beautifully confident and charming, so his gut twisted sharply as his cells seemed to tighten.
‘I’m glad. I’d hate to disappoint you.’
‘That seems unlikely.’
He grinned, reaching down and taking her hand. ‘Shall we?’
Of course, the yacht wasn’t just enormous, but also incredibly luxuriously appointed, from the gleaming white accents to the shining timber features, and walls of glass that showed the ocean to best advantage. The moon bounced off the marina and the other boats as the captain readied the Papandreo yacht for departure, and Zeus left Jane alone a moment to speak with his crew. The driver of his car had unpacked her bags—Zeus, she presumed, had his own things on board already, for he brought nothing. And then, while Zeus was still absent, the yacht began to move, pushing back carefully from the pontoon and drifting into the clear water behind the rows of yachts, executing a perfect manoeuvre that enabled them to be pointing towards the Saronic Gulf.
Overhead, stars glittered brightly against a sky that was all black velvet, and Jane sighed a happy, contented sigh as the boat seemed to glide atop the water with effortless ease.
She was so focused on the boat’s journey that she didn’t notice Zeus’s approach. It was only when he came to stand behind her and slid his hands around her waist, eased her hair over one shoulder so he could press his lips to the sensitive flesh in the curve of her neck, and she shivered. Not from cold, but from a total bodily awareness of him. A need that was in overdrive. It was as though being here, on the open water, somehow freed her from all restraint. Not just of the conundrum of her deception, but of the hurts of her past. Finally, for the first time in years, she felt almost liberated from the shadow of what Steven had done to her, of how he’d made her feel.
She felt, simply, free.
