Page 92 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
‘Not neces…’
‘That’s my condition. A real marriage. Husband, wife, one bed, till death us do part. Take it or leave it.’
A tremor came into her voice. ‘When you say one bed…’
‘Yes. Sex.’ He allowed himself a half-smile, allowed a partial memory of their nights together to infiltrate his mind, of Lydia on top of him, throwing her head back in rapture as she’d climaxed with such force her spasming contractions had pulled him over the edge too. With a snapped blink, he shuttered the vivid memory away and added, ‘I figure you should be allowed some enjoyment within it.’
She spluttered with outrage then shook her head vigorously. ‘No sex.’
‘Then no deal.’
‘You don’t need to have…’
‘You said you’d agree to anything, and that’s my price. If I’m going to commit to you and our baby then you can damned well commit to me too. A real marriage, Lydia. All or nothing. Say yes and I will fly you to Agon tomorrow and marry you there on Sunday. In less than forty-eight hours you will be my wife. Say no and take your chances that your worst fears won’t be proved right.’
He could feel her turmoil like a wave of tension vibrating off her skin.
Until the night she’d come to his nightclub—and only a select few of his inner circle knew he owned the nightclub as part of his vast portfolio of personal investments—Lydia had been a face he’d known only as a member of the Antoniadis family. A pretty face for sure, but there were plenty of pretty faces in his world and as her pretty face was one he associated with poisonous scorpions, not one he’d had any wish to know.
That she’d appeared in his club seeking him out hadn’t been in question, and he’d joined her in her booth fully expecting to be only moments away from calling security to eject her from his premises.
There were many things he hadn’t expected when he took that seat beside her: not her reasons for seeking him out, not the open, warm curiosity in her hazel eyes, not the witty playfulness, and definitely not the click of attraction that had sprung almost immediately between them.
He’d invited her to his apartment knowing she would say yes and knowing it had nothing to do with her request for his help, which had been barely spoken about as they’d shared the best part of a bottle of tequila between them and a mountain of chips, and exchanged increasingly more outrageous stories about mutual acquaintances that had them both roaring with laughter. By the time he’d issued his invitation, her legs had been draped over his lap, their hands had been clasped tightly together and their eyes might as well have been glued together because they’d both stopped seeing anyone else.
If one of them had carried a condom, he’d have taken her…or she’d have taken him…before his driver had left the underground car park.Theos, he could still remember the thrill of electricity that had coursed through him at the first touch of her tongue against his, still remember the pulsation the first time her fingers had wrapped around his erection, still remember the sound of her first climax cried into his mouth as they’d pleasured each other with their hands.
He’d never known a night like it, a hedonistic, instinctive compatibility that had blown his mind and, instead of sating him, had kept him wanting more; kept them both wanting more. One night had rolled into day and then into another night, time managing to stand still and yet pass in the blink of an eye.
Scorpions had bite but, as he’d discovered that weekend, they tasted divine.
It was on the Sunday that Lydia had unleashed the sting in her tail.
She’d woken him with a quick shake of his shoulder. He’d opened his eyes to find her dressed and the bedroom bathed in daylight.
‘I have to go.’
He’d thrown the sheets off to reveal an erection that no man should have been able to produce after the two nights they’d shared. ‘Sure about that?’
She’d darted her gaze away. ‘Sorry. Things to do.’
He’d sat up and cupped her face before kissing her deeply and then murmuring, ‘Dinner tonight?’
She’d pulled away from him and climbed off the bed. Her blonde hair had been all mussed from their lovemaking, her face bare, not a scrap of makeup. He’d never seen a sight so beautiful.
‘I can’t.’
‘Tomorrow night?’
She’d raised her gaze to the ceiling. ‘Alexis…what we’ve shared has been…great, but we can’t see each other again.’
His limbs still heavy from all their incredible lovemaking, his loins primed and ready for more, he’d pulled a face. ‘Why not?’
Her stare had whipped to him. All the passion and light that had shone from the beautiful hazel eyes had gone. Now all that had rung out from them had been incredulity. ‘You have to ask? Seeing each other again is out of the question.’
‘If you’re worried about our families then don’t be—they don’t need to know.’
‘They mustneverknow,’ she’d said with such vehemence his hackles had risen. ‘No one can ever know and we both need to forget that anything happened.’
