Page 85 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
His Pregnant Enemy Bride
Michelle Smart
CHAPTER ONE
LYDIAANTONIADISPEEREDintently through the binoculars she’d borrowed from a deckhand, watching the supply boat heading in the direction of Kos. She’d caught a fleeting glance at a figure slipping below deck, which in itself was not in the least strange, but what was strange was that the figure bore a strong resemblance to Lucie Burton. But it couldn’t be Lucie because Lucie was marrying Lydia’s brother the next day on Sephone and so definitely wouldn’t be sailing away from the island. It must have been a trick of the mind. After all, the distance between the yacht Lydia stood on the sundeck of and the supply boat was immense.
Definitely a mind trick, she assured herself again before training the binoculars on Sephone itself. The island’s gorgeous multiple-domed villa was gleaming under the rising sun, and she slowly scanned the faces in its front grounds. The only ones she recognised were the household staff, which wasn’t really surprising considering it was barely nine a.m. They all looked stressed, which wasn’t surprising either considering hundreds of people were about to descend on the island for the wedding. Most would be there before nightfall.
Draining her glass of water, she looked out again over the Aegean. More vessels had appeared since she’d become distracted by the figure on the supply boat.
‘You’re up early,baba.’
Lydia flinched but didn’t drop the binoculars. ‘I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.’
‘I was hardly sneaking,’ her mother said drily, standing beside her at the balustrade. ‘What’s got you so enraptured?’
‘Nothing. Just looking to see if I recognise any of the yachts heading this way.’
‘And?’
‘Too far away to tell. Looks like we’ll be the third party to arrive.’ There were two superyachts already anchored, and they sailed past them, the crew scurrying around preparing to dock at the small harbour that could accommodate only two vessels. Lydia’s brother refused to dredge the shoreline of his precious island to accommodate more.
‘Are any ofthemhere yet?’
Them. Meaning the Tsalikis.
Lydia’s fingers tightened but her voice remained steady. ‘No.’
‘Good. I couldn’t face seeing any of them before my breakfast has been digested. Have you eaten?’
‘I’ll get something later.’ Her stomach was so tightly knotted she’d struggled to get water into it.
‘You need to eat.’
‘Don’t fuss. I’m fine.’
‘None of us are fine,baba, but we all need to eat. It’s going to be a long couple of days and we need to keep our strength up.’
Lydia nodded automatically. Since their lives had imploded her mother had gone into self-preservation mode with a steely smile and a steelier determination that whatever happened to the family business and fortune, the family itself would survive. Part of this survival came in the form of food. Her mother had always been a feeder but in recent months, Lydia had been unable to walk through the front door without having food thrust in her face. What they had travelled to Sephone for, though, was going to push her mother’s steely smile to the limit: a marriage between Lydia’s brother Thanasis and Lucie Burton, the stepdaughter of their enemy Georgios Tsaliki. For the next three days, with the world’s press acting as witnesses, they were going to break bread, smile, dance and laugh with their heinous sworn enemy and his equally heinous family. This wedding was the Antoniadises’ last chance to save their business and save themselves from destitution.
Soon, their yacht was moored beside Thanasis’s and it was time to disembark and play their parts in the performance of the century. With her father striding along the jetty as if he’d spent his whole lifetime waiting impatiently for this wedding and her mother striding purposefully with her steely smile fixed firmly in place, Lydia followed behind them, attempting her own steely smile and trying her hardest not to think that the one thing that could actually break her mother lay nestled in her stomach.
Alexis Tsaliki read the message Thanasis Antoniadis had sent him for a third time, spat a curse, and pressed the intercom. ‘Get the jet ski out for me. Now.’
Jumping out of bed, he threw shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of running shoes on, then raced out of his yacht’s master cabin and banged on his father’s door. His stomach curdled when his stepmother opened it but there was no time for unpleasantries. ‘Where is he?’
‘Showering. What’s wrong?’
He pushed past her without answering and banged on the bathroom door. ‘Dad, get out of there. We need to talk.’
‘What’s wrong?’ his stepmother asked again.
Not bothering to hide the loathing he usually masked for the sake of family harmony, he said tightly, ‘Your daughter.’ Then he banged even louder on the bathroom door.
‘Lucie? What’s happened?’
‘Dad!’ he shouted. ‘We need to talk right now.’
