Page 14 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4
“I assure you, I understand the point of this lecture,” Dioni said, mildly. “I, who have not yet accepted your proposal, would do so only because I am a gold digger of the highest order.” She waved her hand, taking in the kitchen they stood in, gleaming and beautiful. The gardens beyond. The entire brownstone itself, which was an extraordinarily luxurious property. “As is self-evident, I should think. I would do anything to escape this cruel and terrible life.”
“I understand that you are used to a pampered life,” he growled at her. “Perhaps you forget that your brother is my closest friend.”
Dioni never forgot that, little as she wished to think of Apostolis just now. Apostolis, who was always so kind to her. Apostolis, who had always made time for her. Apostolis, who had supported her when she’d wanted to go off to school, even when her father had initially balked.
She particularly did not want to think about his friendship with Alceu and how this situation must certainly test it, once her brother found out. Maybe she was deluding herself that she could keep it from him much longer, but the idea of telling him made her stomach hurt.
Especiallyif he was understanding. He forgave her everything and had supported her always and this was how she’d repaid him?
It did not bear thinking about.
“I did not exactly grow up in a workhouse, I grant you,” she said instead, rolling her eyes as if she was far more at her ease than she was. “But you seem to forget that for all the legends that swirl around my family, we have always been in trade. I have been working at the Hotel Andromeda since I was a girl. I am not unaccustomed to work, Alceu, though again, I don’t recall volunteering to help rehabilitate your image on an island I’ve never visited.” She smiled then, and widely. The very picture of beneficence. “Though I will say that this is quite a novel approach. No actual proposal, all dire warnings. Truly, it’s the stuff of which romantic poetry is made. I salute you.”
“This is what I am trying to make clear to you,” he all but threw at her, that same arrested fury in his gaze that she remembered from the storm they’d shared. “There will be no romance. You already carry my child. The Vaccaro line continues, I am no better than those who came before me, and unless I can raise our child to put an end to this once and for all, it will carry on as it always has. I have failed. This—you and me and what must happen now—is nothing but damage control.”
He stood there, arms crossed, telling her all of these dire things in what she could tell was perfect seriousness. He believed every word he was saying.
This time it was her heart that hurt, and more than the way it usually did where he was concerned.
Because he was doing this while he was standing there ramrod straight, as if facing his own firing squad. Only the gleam in his gaze told her that he was not anywhere near as calm as he pretended.
Or perhaps he believed he was. She imagined he always believed he was.
But then, none of it mattered anyway.
Because he had kissed her.
And so she knew, now.
Because her whole life she had been chaotic. Clumsy. Usually stained. Always a bit raggedy.
But when he kissed her, deep inside, she went still.
Still and bright and beautiful.
It was as if all the pieces that made her Dioni were little more than chunks of coal, but when his mouth was on her, all of that fused and became the diamond she’d beenmeantto be all along.
That was what it had felt like, that calm, endless glow from within while his mouth teased her and tamed her, taught her and remade her.
That was whathefelt like, as if he was the glue that could hold her together.
“Dioni,” he said gruffly. “You must marry me.”
And she agreed. Of course she must, though not for any one of his dire and depressing reasons.
She did not have to know a single thing about him, his family, or the Vaccaros’ reputation in Sicily to know that he was wrong. Whether he could ever accept it or not.
Because she was a motherless child who was the reason for her own lack, and she knew a thing or two about redemption and forgiveness.
She did not believe inirreparable.
“Thank you for asking so prettily,” she said.
“Dioni.” Her name was a stark growl and it shivered through her like another crushed bit of coal turned diamond gleam.
“Yes, Alceu,” she said quietly. “I will marry you and live a life of despair in your villainous castle. Oh, happy day.”
But inside, what she felt was nothing short of joy. She watched the way his expression changed again, something almost haunted moving over his stern face, stark and unmistakable. She watched the way he loosed his arms, and stood straight again.
