Page 64 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
Normally she’s responsive to texts, and always replies promptly because she knows I worry about her. I have enemies, naturally, so she never goes anywhere without her security detail, and I’m always very strict with her about that. On public holidays, she usually stays home, because she doesn’t like the staff to have to give up a day’s leave for her, so I’d be surprised if she’s gone out somewhere.
In the living area, Katla is still standing by the Christmas tree and looking up at it, eyes wide, oblivious to my growing concern. I call my head of security to find out where Olympia might be, but he tells me that she didn’t order any detail for today.
Cold settles in my gut. She didn’t respond to my Christmas Eve apology, now that I think about it, but I didn’t worry because I thought she might have been annoyed with me and didn’t want to answer. She has been more annoyed with me this past year, getting impatient with my over-protectiveness, but I thought we were over that. Yet, with an empty house and no sign of her, I’m worried. I call her, but there’s no reply. It goes straight to voicemail.
Katla turns from the tree, her dark-blue eyes narrowing as she takes me in. She’s sensing my growing agitation, no doubt, but I keep it contained and force a smile. ‘There are four spare bedrooms upstairs and they all haveen suites,’ I tell her. ‘Pick one and get some rest. My sister’s room is up there too and she won’t mind if you need to borrow some clothes. She has far too many for one woman as it is.’
I want her to nod and take herself off up the stairs so I don’t have an audience for my deepening concern, and the fury that often accompanies it, but she doesn’t move. She only gives me her direct, piercing stare. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.
My smile feels more fixed with each passing second, but I keep it in place. This is not her concern. ‘Nothing,’ I say, my voice carefully casual. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’
But she still doesn’t move, scanning my face, her forehead creasing. ‘What is it, Ulysses?’
The way she says my name makes me automatically think of her saying it as she came, her voice husky and thick with the pleasure I gave her, and an arrow of heat shoots clean through my worry, as though it wasn’t there.
I ignore it. Sex is not what I need right now. Right now I need to find out where my sister is, and quickly, and I don’t have the time or patience to explain to Katla what the issue is. So I shake my head, turn and stride from the living room, walking quickly down the hallway to my office at the other end of the villa where I’ll have some privacy to make a few calls.
However, a quick ten minutes of speaking to various employees and associates doesn’t make the reason for Olympia’s absence any clearer. She’s been at home the past week, apparently, but went out on Christmas Eve. She told Elena that she had a few errands to run and would be back later that evening. Yet she then texted to say she’d be later than she thought, and not to wait for her, so Elena went home. The security detail that went with Olympia was also dismissed by her that evening. However, some time after that, she disappeared and no one knows where she went or why.
I stand in my office, staring sightlessly out of the window at the pines that grow close to the house, a ball of cold fear and fury collecting inside me. I have many enemies—I can’t live the kind of life I’ve lived without earning more than a few—and I’ve always been conscious that Olympia is a potential target. That’s why I keep her close and well protected. And, while her disappearance could be innocuous, I don’t think it is. In fact, I’m sure it’s not, which means that now I’ll have to overturn the entire world looking for her.
I can’t lose her—I can’t. I swore to protect her all those years ago, promising her that she’d never have to go through the horror of what she experienced with that abusive foster family again. I promised that I’d keep her safe. Breaking that promise is unthinkable, unconscionable, and, by God, if anything’s happened to her someone willpay…
A million plans turn over in my head and I’m busy sorting through them when my phone vibrates in my hand. I look down at the screen and the world stops spinning for a moment.
It’s Olympia.
I hit ‘accept’ and raise the phone to my ear. ‘Where the hell are you?’ I growl at her in Greek. ‘You didn’t answer my texts and—’
‘Don’t get angry, Ulysses,’ Olympia interrupts, the sound of her clear, sweet voice sending relief spilling through me. ‘There are a few things I need to say to you.’
‘Where are you?’ I snap, my relief now turning to anger. ‘Why aren’t you at home?’
‘Listen to me,’ she says, blatantly ignoring my questions, which only infuriates me more. ‘I have something to tell you.’
My fist closes hard on the piece of technology in my hand. ‘What?’ I demand, graceless now with all the fury, fear and relief mixing like acid in my stomach.
‘I…can’t spend Christmas with you.’
She sounds unsure and there is trepidation in her voice. I go very still, listening intently. ‘Is everything all right?’ I try to keep my voice calm. ‘Are you in danger? What’s going on, Olympia?’
‘No, I’m not in any danger,’ she says, and this sounds much more firm and convincing. ‘So you can stand down the battle stations.’
I grit my teeth at her flippant comment. ‘You sounded afraid.’
There’s a long silence down the other end of the phone and then I hear her release a breath. ‘Look, I really am safe, Ulysses. I’m not in danger at all. I just…can’t come to you right now. I’ve got a few things I need to sort out.’
This does not make me feel any better. ‘What things? Come home, Olympia. I have presents for you and the tree—’
‘I know, I know.’ She mutters a filthy curse that I had no idea she even knew, then goes on. ‘I didn’t want to have to tell you like this.’
‘Tell me what?’ I’m furious, worried and frustrated and none of this is helping. ‘I’ll come to you, then, and we can have a face-to-face chat.’
‘No,’ she says, a surprising hint of steel entering her voice. Surprising, because normally Olympia lets me coddle and cosset her. She likes it when I’m protective—or at least she did. Lately, I admit, she’s been more impatient with it. ‘I’m not going to tell you where I am or who I’m with, because then you’ll start looking for me, and I don’t need that drama, okay?’
I don’t listen, because of course the ‘who I’m with’ has got stuck in my brain. She’s with someone, and I bet I’m not going to like who that someone is. In fact, I’m don’t likeanythingabout this entire situation. ‘Tell me where you are, Olympia,’ I order tersely, my tone hard. ‘I won’t ask again.’
‘Ulysses,’ she says, ignoring me, ‘I’m pregnant.’
