Page 41 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
She should look ridiculous, standing there with antlers on her head in that awful red-and-green Christmas sweater, ordering me around like I’m the nobody she’s decided to treat me as. But I’m not a nobody and she doesn’t look ridiculous.
I’m not a fanciful man either, but there’s an ethereal quality to her, a sharpness to her features, that makes me think of otherworldly beings: elves; fairies; the beautiful creatures of myth, rare and unique, which was what drew me to her in the first place.
I’m a collector of rare and unique things. Beautiful things. I’ve never wanted to collect a woman before, so the depth of my initial desire to collect her surprised me. But I hate being denied something I want, so it’s probably that which has deepened my obsession. It’s galling to be a cliché. Nevertheless, I wasn’t deterred when I first asked her to dinner and she refused. I asked her again, politely, courteously. I know the rules of human interaction and I play by them, but if that doesn’t get me what I want then I break them. Rules are made to broken, after all. So, after rejection number six, I decided it was time to stop playing.
She wanted me—I saw the fire in her eyes that day in the meeting. And she wouldn’t have held my gaze, challenging me, if she hadn’t found me compelling, as most women generally do. But she is not most women, and tonight I will not take no for an answer.
I smile, appreciating her little joke, taking no notice of the quiet room and all the people staring at me. ‘But I’m not here for the Christmas party, Miss Sigurdsdottir,’ I say. ‘And neither are my associates.’
The man standing next to her frowns and says in puzzled tones, ‘Miss?’
She pays no attention to him. ‘It’s Ms,’ she corrects me coldly, her dark-blue gaze on mine. ‘Are you wanting to speak to Mr Tanaka?’
Of course I do. It’s his company I’ll be using as leverage, after all.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘This does involve him.’
Her eyes narrow. ‘“This”? Can I ask, what is “this”?’
‘You can ask.’ I give the rest of the room a glance. ‘But you may not want an audience for the answer.’
If she’s guessed my intentions, she gives no sign. Perhaps she thinks the reason for my presence is some last-minute emergency, a piece of business that needs taking care of before the Christmas break. She would be wrong.
‘The business day is over, Mr Zakynthos,’ she says. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, if you hadn’t noticed, and unless you’re—’
‘I’m not here for business,’ I interrupt calmly. ‘I am here for you.’
She’s not so pale now, a flush tinging her cheeks like dawn light touching a snow bank; her full mouth tightening, the blue ice of her eyes trying to freeze me where I stand. ‘In what capacity?’ she asks, her clear voice noticeably chilling.
I give her a slow smile. ‘I think you know in what capacity, Ms Sigurdsdottir.’
‘Kat,’ the man next to her interjects, scowling. ‘What the hell is going on? Who is this guy?’
Once again, she ignores him. ‘Mr Zakynthos…’ she begins.
But I don’t let her finish. ‘Find Mr Tanaka and a room where we can discuss this in private. Though…’ I pause for effect ‘…I’m very willing to talk about this right here, right now if you’d prefer.’
She’s angry, I can see it in her eyes, but it’s a cold anger, as befits a daughter of Iceland. That’s where she’s from, and I know that because, after that meeting, I wanted to know everything about her, so I educated myself.
Her mother was a kind of free spirit and left Reykjavik when Katla was very young. They led a peripatetic life in Europe, never settling in one place for too long before moving on. I’m not sure how she managed schooling in a life like that, but she did turn up at a British university that she attended young because of her gift for numbers. She studied finance and maths, graduating with honours and getting positions in a number of different companies, before she was headhunted by Tanaka to be their CFO.
It’s a small company, specialising in solar energy, but growing fast and I suspect that’s largely because of her. Like I said, she’s unique. Rare. And, the more I discovered about her, the more I wanted to know because she fascinates me— I confess, I’m not sure why—and there’s only one way to handle such obsessions. You must take the thing you’re obsessed with and learn everything about it until you know it inside out.
Only once you know a thing completely can you move on. This is why I have to move on her, and move now. There are other things I need to do, other obsessions to explore, but I can’t do any of them until I’ve sated myself with her.
‘There is no need to talk about this at all,’ she says icily. ‘I have nothing to say to you, except to please leave. Because, if you don’t, I’ll have security throw you out.’
She’s impressive, I’ll give her that, and some might find her intimidating. But I don’t. I find her exciting. In fact, my muscles are already tightening in anticipation of the fight to come, and shewillgive me a fight—I already know that. Which is good. It’s been too long since I’ve had such an interesting lover.
‘There was no security downstairs,’ I inform her. ‘They must have gone home already. It is Christmas Eve, after all.’
‘Kat,’ the man says, his voice as annoying as the buzz of a mosquito. ‘I really need your attention right now. This is important and I—’
‘No, it is not,’ I break in, causing him to fall silent. ‘Stay quiet, please. No one is talking to you.’
He stares at me for a moment, clearly deciding whether or not to argue, but I hold his gaze, letting him know exactly who and what he is dealing with, and he shuts his mouth with a snap.
Katla mutters something under her breath and Mr Tanaka, who must have been informed of my arrival, abruptly appears at my elbow.
