Page 104 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
His silence spoke louder than any verbal answer could have done.
CHAPTER SIX
THE PALACE GATESopened for her, and in that brief moment Lydia felt like a bona fide princess. She’d seen plenty of pictures of the palace, one of Europe’s largest, over the years, but nothing could have prepared her for its magnificence in the flesh. In a country with a strong shared cultural heritage with its Greek neighbour Crete, its palace had a strong Middle Eastern flavour to it, as if it had long ago been built for a great Sultan, its multicoloured turrets and domed roofs gleaming under the midday sun.
Driving slowly through the magnificent grounds, she feared her heart might smash its way out of her chest.
Would Alexis even be there?
She’d been gently woken by a maid with her laundered clothes and a tray of coffee, fruit and pastries. The bed had been empty, not even residual warmth on Alexis’s side. But she’d caught the faint trace of his cologne lingering in the air and knew he must have showered and dressed in stealth mode. A kindness to let her sleep a little longer? Did he know that she’d still been wide awake hours after he’d fallen into a deep sleep, her thoughts wretched, longing for him to roll over and press into her, longing to roll over and press herself into him? Or was he still too angry to want to speak to her?
Once she’d finished eating, she’d been given a short brown wig to disguise herself with and a credit card, and then taken to Agon’s swankiest hotel by Alexis’s driver with strict instructions to be ready for collection in two hours.
Inside, she’d been astounded to find numerous boutiques catering to all tastes.
Lydia could never explain to herself why she hadn’t grabbed the first pair of jeans and vaguely reasonable top to wear, nor why she’d bought makeup and perfume, nor why she’d spent so long in the guest shower room that she’d had to run to make it to the car park on time. Nor did she understand why she wrenched the wig off as soon as the driver closed the door and then spent half the journey frantically brushing and fiddling with her hair.
And she would never be able to explain or understand why the fear that had rooted itself so tightly in the knots in her belly was the fear that Alexis had changed his mind, and that no matter how much she rubbed her belly and whispered to the tiny life inside it that its daddy would be there, that he was committing himself to them, she couldn’t shake off the even more deeply rooted fear that he would never commit himself solely toher.
As far as fears went, it was ludicrous because she’d loftily told him she didn’t demand or expect fidelity and he’d never even alluded to it. She shouldn’t want it. She shouldn’t. She wouldn’t.
Somehow she had to find a way to stop herself imagining him with other women. Learn to block her own thoughts, and, if that proved impossible, learn to control the sickness those thoughts always induced.
Be more Rebecca Tsaliki, she chanted to herself. Be more Rebecca Tsaliki.
If the palace itself had a Middle Eastern flavour, the royal chapel, its yellow walls excepted, was pure Greek.
Not a soul witnessed her slip through its doors. Only the prince, a mountain of a man bigger even than Alexis, his beautiful wife, Amelie, and the priest were there to greet her. And Alexis, standing at the altar…
Relief whooshed through every cell of her body. And something else, something that filled her chest and weakened her legs.
He met her at the aisle’s halfway point. His face was a mask she couldn’t read. ‘I thought you might have done a Lucie.’
She had to clear her choked throat. ‘I thought you might have done a Lucie too.’
His chest rose before a half-smile played on his lips, and she suddenly found herself overwhelmed with a longing to see the full-blown smile that had so warmed her the first time it had been bestowed on her all that time ago. ‘We made a deal, my angel. Now it is time to seal it.’
Alexis recited his vows still expelling relief that Lydia hadn’t fled from the hotel and taken the first flight off the island. Even though his driver had messaged when he was en route to the palace, he’d been unable to shake the feeling that the car would arrive empty. But she was here and so ravishingly beautiful that when she’d stepped into the chapel he’d felt her presence like a punch to his heart.
Having expected her to turn up in ripped jeans, and still furious that she’d believed he wouldn’t want to be a father, his ego punched all over again at her scathing dismissal of their weekend together, he’d been tempted to wear something similar, only changing into smart navy trousers and a white shirt at the last minute for the sole reason that they were marrying in a house of God and so he should at least make an effort to look respectable.
The last thing he’d expected was for Lydia to make an effort too. She was so naturally beautiful that she didn’t need to make an effort but when she did, the effect was breathtaking.
Far from wearing ripped jeans, she stood facing him at the altar in a creamy white floaty dress, the laced long-sleeved top half plunging in a V giving a hint of her growing cleavage, the flowing skirt ruched, the whole thing tied together with a thick brown belt at the waist. She looked like she should be running through a meadow with her long blonde hair trailing behind her.
Their vows made, the time had come to seal their marriage like they’d sealed their commitment to their deal of a real marriage—with a kiss.
Their eyes locked together. He pressed a hand into the small of her back A small hand slid onto his shoulder. His heart thumping a roar in his head, Alexis brought his mouth down to hers as she lifted her mouth to his. He glimpsed a sweep of her lashes before he closed his eyes and their lips fused together in a long, lingering kiss.
Breaking apart, he gazed again into the hazel eyes now brimming with an emotion he’d never seen in them before.
Euphoria slammed through him.
Lydia washis.
She was married. A married woman. Married to Alexis Tsaliki.
God help her.
