Page 174 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
He eyed her. She didn’t meet his gaze, but she could feel it, his gaze and a tension inside of him that made little sense to her. And she did not wish it to make it make sense, because if she understood…
Having these lines drawn was her last defense against everything that had happened in that boxing ring in Paris. An unraveling she couldn’t survive.
“I worry there is nowhere at the boxing gym safe enough to keep something as fine as this ring from getting stolen,” she explained. “No matter how good and loyal people are, money is an enticing lure.”
“You may leave it in the car then, with Bacchus or whomever drives you. But as much as possible, in public, it should be on your finger. We do not want any questions.”
Questions. No, they didn’t want that. They wanted Erjon. Though Zervou’s men had followed the member of the Petrov family and the man he’d met in Athens and a few other meandering possibilities, they had yet to get any clarity on where Erjon himself might be.
This was supposed to draw him out. Fully. He would not allow her to be married off to the man who wished to destroy him. He would need to stop it.
“Put it on then,” Zervou directed.
She didn’t want to. Everything inside of her resisted reaching out for it, but he’d given a direction and as much as she was used to following her own directions and no one else’s, he existed in some other place for her, didn’t he?
She lifted the box, still resisting touching the actual ring. “This is the last step.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It should be.”
It should be.She recalled him saying a while backifthey had to marry, she would win an impressive divorce settlement for her trouble. That he would actually go so far as to marry her if that was what was required to lure Erjon out of hiding.
Marry.It had never been a dream of hers. She’d never really thought relationships were in her future. She had too much to do. Too much to protect. Everything about her future had been simply keeping her and her mother safe and alive, and how could she imagine balancing all that and a life partner?
Her dreams had been so small, and Zervou had opened up a whole new world to her. Beyond survival. More than one world, really.
Not that a marriage between them would be real. Not thatthiswas real or changing her dreams. If they married, it would be simply to get to Erjon. It wouldn’t be about…living beyond survival and revenge.
But too much between them had begun to feel real. Within reach. A core part of the life she wanted. The idea of marrying him wasn’t repellant, it was…intriguing.
Was she alone in that feeling? Could he behave the way he did and not care for her at all? Or was this strange pang inside of her—need and want and something deeper all wrapped up into one confusing ball of emotion—something he felt, too?
What would it be like if she let her guard down, if she let him see that she was happy, touched? That she thought the ring was beautiful and that he was good? What would happen if she risked?
What always happens to women whoriskanywhere near a powerful man.
Destruction. Even if he was kind about it, he would say something about this not being real, and she would be the fool.
You are a fool, Ari.
She closed her eyes, trying to ice out the pain.
“Is it such a hardship,glikí mou, to wear a beautiful ring?” There was an edge to his voice, irritation simmering in his gaze.
She couldn’t say she fully understood it or him, but she felt like she was on the edge of it making sense. Of everything or nothing making sense.
“No,” she said softly, slipping the ring on her own finger. Because the ring was not the hardship.
It was loving him that would be.
Chapter Thirteen
Zervou did notknow what had gotten into him. He dreamed of Ari nightly. He thought of her constantly. He could not distract himself with anything.
She was a curse.
And still, every evening he had to go parade her about. He thought he’d had a handle on it, until last night when he’d had to take her to a play with that ring on her finger. Perhaps a party or dinner would have been better, but he’d had to sit next to her in a darkened theater, where the glow of the gold on her finger matched the gold hoops in her ears.
He’d wanted to play with the ring. Twirl it around. Feel the weight of it on her finger. He’d wanted to memorize what her hand looked like with his ring on it. Perfect. Just as he’d known it would be when he’d gone to the jeweler.
