Page 68 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
But I can’t get out of my head Olympia’s voice as Rafael Santangelo took the phone from her. She sounded more angry than afraid, and I know what that sounds like, because she’s been angry with me more often than she used to be. She’s thrown around accusations that I’m suffocating her, that she feels like a captive, and all sorts of over-dramatic nonsense. I don’t know how many times I’ve explained that she needs security because of my enemies, that she’s my one weak spot and I’m only trying to protect her, but she never listens.
To be fair, she’s been a bit more settled this past year, and hasn’t argued about anything, but now… My thoughts careen out of control, my blood turning to ice at the thought of what she might be going through right now, and for the first time in my life I have regrets.
I should have been a better man. I should have been a good man. I should have been principled and moral, and all the things I was when I was a boy. But I wasn’t, and I’m not, and I have the enemies to show for it. And now my sister has to bear the consequences.
Katla’s gaze on mine is wide and dark, and I know exactly what kind of distraction I need—her, naked. On my desk or on the floor, I don’t care where. I need the kind of physical distraction only sex can bring and she’ll be the perfect cure.
But, instead of coming closer, she turns and for some reason picks up the shell that sits on the bookshelf behind her. It was one Olympia collected from the beach when I first bought the villa. She loves it here, loves the beach and the glittering sea beyond. She often goes for long walks along the sand and that particular shell was from her first walk.
I kept it, because that was the first time she’d smiled since I rescued her, and that’s when I knew that she’d be okay. The dread that had felt like a stone in my gut melted away, the dark cloud that had hung over me ever since she’d been taken from me lifting.
Now Katla has that shell in her hand and she turns to me, holding it as if she somehow knows how precious it is to me.
‘You see this?’ She indicates the spiral pattern of the shell. ‘This is the golden ratio. A ratio between two numbers that equals approximately 1.618. I love finding it in nature, because numbers are the truth of the universe, and you can see that everywhere—such as this shell. Its spiral is perfect and pleasing to the eye.’
She gently places the shell in my hand and looks at me. ‘Whenever I feel as if things are happening outside my control, I look for the golden ratio, and wherever I find it it’s proof that numbers still work. That the universe is still the same and that everything is happening just as it should.’
I stare at her, for a moment so surprised I don’t know what to say—a very rare thing for me. She’s looking at me all expectantly. There’s some uncertainty there too, but also a kind of glowing shyness, as if she’s telling me something very precious and important to her.
I know about the golden ratio, but I’m no mathematician; that’s not where my skills lie. And somewhere along the line I’ve forgotten that, behind her beautiful eyes and her silky, curvy body, there’s a brilliant mind. I can see it there now, glittering and sharp as cut crystal in the sun. Some men are intimidated by smart, clever women, but I’m not, and what I can see now only interests me more. I want her body, I can’t deny that, but her mind looks to be a vast, undiscovered country and I’m interested in exploring that as well.
‘The golden ratio is part of the Fibonacci sequence, no?’ I ask as I turn the shell over in my hand.
‘Yes,’ she says, excitement glowing in her eyes. ‘Do you know geometry? What about—?’
‘No,’ I interrupt, but gently. ‘I’m a mathematical dunce, alas. But I like that this shell has a perfect spiral, because this shell is important to me.’
Her eyes widen slightly. ‘Oh?’
‘Olympia gave this to me when we moved into the villa,’ I explain. ‘It was on her first walk on the beach that she collected it, and when she gave it to me she smiled. It was the first time I saw her smile after I rescued her.’
The expression on Katla’s face softens. ‘Then it’s a perfect shell in every way.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘It is indeed.’
‘I…collect things,’ she says, sounding hesitant and more than a little shy. ‘I collect things that have the golden ratio on or in them somewhere, that perfect spiral: shells, plants, photos, art…’ She looks at me for a long moment, then raises a hand and touches me, tracing a spiral over my cheekbone, my brow bone and my nose. ‘Your face.’
There is a shift inside me and I don’t understand it. But she’s looking at me as if I am something special, something to be treasured, and it does things to me. It tightens my chest. Makes my heart beat fast. I like the way she’s looking at me. I like it far too much.
I reach for her hand and gather it between my own. It’s warm and soft, just like her. ‘And am I something you would like to add to your collection, then?’ I ask her. It’s supposed to be teasing yet it comes out sounding far too serious.
She flushes and I’m struck once again by her beauty, her uniqueness. I hadn’t known she was there when I smashed that glass and any woman in in their right mind would have left at that point. But she didn’t. Even when I told her to leave, she stayed, because she wanted to help me, she said.
I don’t know why my feelings should matter to her, especially when I haven’t much considered hers, but I can’t remember the last time someone cared about me in that way. Olympia does, I know that, but our relationship has been so…fraught lately. Katla’s cool concern feels calming, like cold water over a burn. A balm I never thought I needed until now.
‘It sounds silly, doesn’t it?’ she says quietly, and I can see that she’s embarrassed. That maybe someone, some time, has told her that collecting things was a silly thing to do, so she’s assumed that, yes, it is. I want to hurt that person, whoever they were.
‘No,’ I tell her, and mean it. ‘You are collecting things that please you and that’s all that matters. Who cares what other people think?’
She stares up at me, as if I’ve said something revelatory and not self-evident, and I like that look. I like that something I’ve said means something to her. I want to ask her more but, before I can, she goes up on her toes and presses her mouth to mine. It electrifies me, this kiss. Sends thoughts of my sister and what’s happening with her straight out of my head. There’s nothing in the world except Katla and her mouth.
‘Show me how to please you,’ she whispers against my lips. ‘Show me how to give you pleasure.’
The soft, husky words send yet more electricity arcing through me. Oh, there are so many ways for her to please me, so many. And yet…
She puts her hands on my chest, her palms warm, and leans against me, pressing the softness of her body to mine. ‘You wanted me to distract you,’ she goes on. ‘So let me distract you.’
There’s nothing I can do until I hear back from my contacts, nothing except call Olympia repeatedly. I’m powerless in this situation; I have no control, which has the potential to drive me out of my mind. But here, right now, Katla is with me and what she’s offering me is a gift, as if she knows exactly just how out of my mind I am. She’s giving me back some control and in this moment all I want to do is take it.
