Page 63 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
‘What is it?’ he asks, obviously seeing the change of expression on my face. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
He’s not teasing this time, he’s serious, and it seems ridiculous to be embarrassed after what we just did together, so I say, ‘I feel silly now—for telling you about that.’
‘Hey,’ he says, his voice softening, the gold of his eyes pinning me in place. ‘You didn’t know. There’s no shame in not knowing something.’ Again, all I can see in his eyes is sincerity. ‘If anyone should be ashamed, it’s your husband. He had you and all your passion in his bed, and he didn’t do a thing to help you unlock it. But it’s there, Katla. It was always there.’
He’s genuine. For some reason it’s important to him that I understand that, and something in my chest eases. A tight feeling that has been there so long I almost stopped being aware of it at all.
You can believe him. You can trust him.
It seems strange to think that about a man I’ve known for little more than a handful of hours. But…everything he’s said to me has been true so far and I’m starting to think that maybe I can trust him. I can trust him to give me pleasure at least, that’s for sure.
I nod slowly and then, because that feels too inadequate, I reach for him and lean forward, pressing my mouth to his. Telling him without words that I appreciate what he’s just said.
‘There will be a next time,’ he murmurs against my lips. ‘There will be as many next times as you want there to be.’
‘Good,’ I murmur back. Then, thinking about it, I ask, ‘How long approximately was that? You know, for future reference.’
He smiles. ‘About half an hour. Seems like it might take us a while to get to six months.’
‘Excellent,’ I say. Suddenly I’m not worrying about those six months. I think we’ve found a way to spend them all very nicely.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ulysses
The plane touchesdown in Athens on Christmas Day, and I’m eager to get home—not only to see Olympia, but because I have Katla with me. Katla, who has proven to be every bit the volcano I hoped she was.
I very much want to take her to bed, lay her out on white sheets and spend a long time exploring every inch of her, because the sex on the plane was only an entree and I’m ready for the main course.
We could have done more while in the air—she certainly wanted to—but for once it was me baulking. I want time and privacy for our next encounter and we had neither in the jet. Also I need…some distance to make sure I keep my head—because when she sat astride me on the seat it made me forget every promise that I’d made to myself that this would be just about her. I was already hard enough that it hurt. Then to have her sitting on me, the cotton of her knickers and the fabric of my trousers the only thing between my hard-on and her astonishing heat, her insisting on returning the orgasm favour…
I’m a man who likes control and I’ve never doubted my command over myself. Yet she broke that control, snapped it as easily as an old rubber band. It’s not a feeling I enjoy. It reminds me of when my mother died, and the state came to take my sister and me into care. I was sixteen, a good boy, a rule-follower up to that point, and my certainty that we’d be placed together with kind foster parents was rock-solid. And why not? It was the right thing to do and surely the state knew that?
Except the state didn’t know that and we weren’t placed together. No one wanted a sixteen-year-old boy, no matter how good he was, but a quiet ten-year-old girl was an easy sell. And no matter how much I argued, no matter how much I begged, we were split up,
It hurt to watch her get taken away and to know that nothing I did would make any difference. To feel such powerlessness, as the love I felt for her ravaged my soul. It was something I never wanted to experience ever again.
So I turned that love into fury, and it changed me. It made me realise that the only way I could get Olympia back was not to be the boy I once was—the boy who waited for the good things to be given to him. Instead I became a man who took what he wanted, and what I wanted was my sister back.
It was fury that led me to the only way a boy like me could gain enough money and power to rescue her and that was in the criminal underworld. Four years later, I had one of my associates keeping tabs on the foster parents who had her. The ‘father’ was scum of the earth, the ‘mother’ little better; they were only in it for the money they got having a foster kid. I was an enforcer for the most powerful crime families in Athens, and by then I had enough clout to organise a raid on the foster parents.
We got her back, but not without cost. She was afraid of me when I first got her back to the terrible apartment I was living in at the time, and she had every right to be. I’d done things that no good man should ever do. And, worse than that, I didn’t see anything wrong with what I was doing or with the path I was on.
Then she told me she couldn’t stay with me, that I was no better than the people who’d hurt her, and I knew then that I had to change once again. I’d left behind the sweet kid who did what his mother told him, and now it was time to leave behind the criminal enforcer. I became yet another man— I left the feral warrior behind and became the knight, protective, just and honourable. At least, I managed the first one; I’m still working on the last two.
I’m not perfect, not by any stretch, and when I doubt my actions I think of Olympia and what she would say to me, and I do things differently because of that. Except for one thing: I will do anything to keep her safe, anything at all. No one will ever take her from me again and that has been my guiding principle ever since I got her back. It’s what my entire life has been about.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been at the mercy of anyone or anything, but up in the air with Katla in my lap, having just watched her come so beautifully under my hand, I took what she offered without a single second thought. And, my God, those moments inside her, feeling her heat squeeze tight… It tests me even to remember it. But I can’t be an animal here in the house I share with my sister. I must be circumspect. So, first I need to see Olympia and apologise for my absence the night before.
My driver pulls into the driveway of the villa I own in Glyfada, on the Athenian Riviera. It’s huge, with two stories and six bedrooms, built in the traditional way, white washed and square as it faces the sea. There are stone terraces, gardens and olive groves as well as a big pool area with a hot tub.
It’s a beautiful day for December, with the sun shining, and the sea is its usual brilliant, translucent blue, washing the air with salt as I shepherd Katla inside. My staff all have Christmas leave, so I’m not expecting my housekeeper Elena to be around, but Iamexpecting my sister.
She should be in the living area, perhaps putting a few last presents under the tree there. I don’t care about a tree myself, but I put one up for her because she loves it. The tree usually has silver and gold tinsel wound around it, and other decorations of many kinds. I buy her a new Christmas ornament every year and this year, while I was in Munich, I bought a delicate, shimmering silver reindeer that I think she’ll love.
Yet as I show Katla into the entrance hallway, and close the door after us, my first warning that something’s amiss is the utter silence. With the staff being absent, I’m not too concerned, but then as I stride into the living area with Katla at my heels the silence starts to feel…ominous.
‘Wait here,’ I instruct Katla tersely, then without another word I leave the living area and make my way upstairs to check Olympia’s bedroom. She’s not there, which is puzzling. As I walk back downstairs, I text her in case she’s outside or somewhere else in the house.
