Page 48 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
‘Well?’ Again, he lifts an arrogant brow. ‘Is that sufficient or do you require more proof?’
An unfamiliar devil in me wants to tell him no, it’s not sufficient, that I need more proof than that, but I’m wary. In less than ten minutes this man has got under my skin so completely, mesmerised me so utterly, that I have my hand on him and am contemplating giving him exactly what he wants right here, right now. And yes, he’s right—no matter how much I want to ignore it, I am scared.
Desires can be used against you, such as my need for safety and stability. John used that to get me to do what he wanted, and then what seemed safe ended up dangerous, and what looked like love was actually harm. I’ve been wrong about people too many times before, and I don’t want to be vulnerable to anyone ever again.
‘Don’t play with me,’ I tell him flatly, my voice hoarse.
‘Is that what you think?’ His piercing gaze searches mine. ‘I was not playing with you, my ice queen. I told you I was going to test our chemistry and I did. It was enlightening.’
I can’t deny he’s right. He told me that was what he was going to do and that was exactly what he did. Then again, John was like that in the beginning. He promised me so many things and for the first six months of our marriage I felt safe and secure. Happy. But then came the jealousy about the few work friends I had, and then the controlling behaviours—telling me that I promised to love, cherish, honour and obey him when we got married and that I was doing none of those things.
In the end I didn’t feel safe with John, but vulnerable. He manipulated me, manipulated some of the things I’m blind or too literal about, and I ended up feeling stupid. I started questioning as to how I’d missed things about him that I should have seen in our early courtship.
He was a liar, just like my mother and, just like my mother, he hurt me. I do not want to be hurt again.
‘A physical response doesn’t mean consent,’ I tell Ulysses, so he’s clear.
‘Of course not,’ he answers without hesitation. ‘But perhaps we can discuss that during our time together. What I can promise is that it will be a very pleasurable conversation.’
I search his face, trying to read it, trying to find the hidden traps, but all I see in his eyes is desire. He’s been totally upfront about what he wants—and, yes, perhaps he used this attraction between us to prove a point, but only because I let him.
Perhaps it’s not him I should be second-guessing. Perhaps, it’s myself. Doesn’t mean I’m not angry at his effrontery, though. Or his arrogance.
He doesn’t move, his gaze on mine, as if he somehow knows what I’m searching for and is letting me read him. He’s not leaning into my hand where it rests on his fly, but he’s not pulling away either.
‘I like you touching me,’ he says softly, and I can see that it’s true; I can feel it too. ‘But I suggest you stop, not if you don’t want me to use Mr Tanaka’s meeting-room table as a bed.’
I flush and jerk my hand away, because obviously I don’t want that to happen, even though a very small part of me is whispering,but what if you do?
‘Disappointing,’ he murmurs. ‘But unsurprising.’
He pulls away and straightens, and it feels as if I can breathe again, even as a newly awakened part of me aches, wanting to pull him closer.
‘So,’ he goes on briskly, all business now, as if I hadn’t just had my hand on the hot, hard length of him. ‘When and where would you like our first meeting? New Year’s Eve perhaps? I have a bottle of excellent champagne we can open to ring in the new year.’
I haven’t even thought about Christmas, let alone New Year. Not that there’s much to think about. The only good thing my mother ever did was to buy me a book at Christmas Eve, which is an Icelandic tradition. Then I’d have hot chocolate and read happily by myself for the whole night while she went out to Christmas Eve parties. Those are my best memories of Christmas because, after I married John, we only had one Christmas together and it was with his parents. I spent the whole time being criticised and told how to be a better wife to him by my overbearing in-laws, while he just sat there smiling.
Not that I should think about Christmas when it’s clear I’m going to have to give Ulysses Zakynthos what he wants, or else Mr Tanaka will lose his company.
It galls me to have to do it, but I can’t be the reason that Tanaka Solar is swallowed up by Vulcan Energy—I can’t. Not on Christmas Eve.
Reflexively, I smooth the fabric of my skirt, trying to hide how my hands shake. I don’t want to give him any more proof of my susceptibility.
‘I need to think about it,’ I say, desperately hoping he’ll give me this. ‘Maybe some time in January.’
He frowns. ‘That is not the timeline I was hoping for.’
I give him my frostiest stare, feeling more in control now. ‘You’ve barged into my place of work, issuing demands and threatening the company I work for. The least you can do is grant me some space to think about your offer.’
He is unmoved by this, his mouth going hard. Yet the amber glint in his eyes holds nothing but flames. ‘You’re right—it was a demand, not an offer. And as such you know what will happen if you deny me.’
‘I mean, I need space to think about your timeline.’ My voice is quite level now, and I’m determined to keep it that way. I’m also determined not to cede any more ground to him than I have to. ‘I have a gap in my schedule for a meeting at the end of January. I can spare you an hour.’ It’s not what he really wants, and I know that, but all he requires is my time. He didn’t state where, how or what kind of time he wants.
The granite lines of his face are as hard as his mouth. ‘I will not be put in your diary like a lackey.’
‘You wanted my time, Mr Zakynthos,’ I say crisply. ‘You didn’t specify what kind of time you wanted, so I have elected to give you my business time.’
I expect him to be furious for denying him yet again—certainly John always got furious when I told him no—but, strangely, this time his expression softens and his hard mouth curves. His smile is as hot as his amber gaze and something inside me melts at the sight of it.
