Page 171 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
Dinner was stilted. They went their separate ways after. Zervou buried himself in work the next day—Ari in training by herself.
Zervou felt distracted and restless, but there were no other options here. He had work, plans. She did, too. Whatever that moment had been yesterday…it was nothing. And tonight, they had a group of partygoers to convince they were seconds away from becoming engaged.
No matter what he told himself, though, he didn’t feel like himself. Perhaps he was coming down with something.
Still, he got ready for the party, reminding himself of the plan. Show up, not just with Ari but never take his eyes off her. Drop hints about an upcoming engagement. Turn the screws on Erjon. Make him pressured into making a move.
Zervou felt more settled in that, more sure. Determined.
And then Ariadne appeared, ready to leave for the party.
The gown was white. It draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. The fabric nipped in at the waist, skimmed her hips. Her hair had been left curly and loose, and gold winked up her ears and around her neck.
She was a vision, and for too many moments, that was it. The vision of her and this strange riot inside of him.
She looked like a bride.
Something inside his chest clutched once before he iced it away, reminding himself who he was and that her beauty suited his purposes. And meant absolutely nothing else.
He did not meet her gaze—or maybe she did not meet his. They exchanged no pleasantries, simply left the estate and headed for his car. Bacchus drove them into the city and the party that would be full of socialites, royalty and the like. Ari’s face and name would be splashed across all media, linked with his.
The satisfaction he had over that came from knowing Erjon would see it.
He told himself this. Repeatedly.
Inside the party, there were people watching, talking. He’d seen more than one intrepid young person sneak a photo or video from their phones. He would need to dance with Ari at least once to get the appropriate photographs circulating.
At the moment, they were in an ancient ballroom all gilded gold and bright. It nearly gave him a headache, all this wealth on display. Ari in the middle of it.
She had been swept away by a small group of women who were asking her all sorts of questions about her boxing. She was handling them well enough, enough Zervou had felt comfortable letting her be swept away from him for a time. But right now, he couldn’t seem to occupy himself in any other way other than to watch her from where he stood on the other side of the dancing.
He wondered why he’d thought to dress her in white. The color of the gown made her skin seem like gold in candlelight. It seemed to add a richness to the sable curls and dark eyes. The gold in her ears glittered, and he could momentarily distract himself by questioning whether or not her bellybutton ring was being worn under all that white silk.
But then he would think of the boxing ring.
She had frustrated him, not willing to land any blow—real or otherwise. At first he had been offended. Perhaps felt as though his manhood was being impinged. She may be a boxer, but he’d grown up on the streets and scrabbled for everything he had. He could take a damn punch.
But then he’d come to a worse realization, because he’d seen it in her face. This was not arrogance. She just didn’t want to cause him pain. Which spoke to something…soft.
She couldn’t afford soft. And he wanted nothing to do with it.
His phone chimed from deep in his pocket. Normally he would not answer in such a situation, but he’d set his phone for only Bacchus to get through, and if Bacchus was contacting him, it was important.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket, read the text message.
We have traced the Petrov to Athens. He met with a man—not Hyseni—whom we will look further into.
Athens. Promising. Zervou had long believed Erjon had found a hiding place on the outskirts of Athens or Svilengrad or both. That had been a hunch he’d never been able to prove, but the Petrov spy meeting with someone in Athens was certainly interesting.
Steps. Steps toward everything he wanted.Finally.
He glanced at Ari. They would need to dance. They needed some photo ops. Now was the time.
He crossed the dance floor, made a beeline for her. He didn’t bother to look at the women talking to Ari. He only had eyes for her. A ruse. of course.
“You will have to excuse me. I would like to dance with my… Excuse us.” He’d said it on purpose. Themy…and then let it trail off. Stir up questions and glances.
The engagement would be sooner rather than later, and he wanted some speculation surrounding it. He wanted Erjon infuriated enough to make a mistake, to stop using his lackeys.
