Page 168 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

Her reaction only lasted a second because, nauseous though she felt, Dido never allowed herself to be vulnerable, not any more. She straightened, lifting her gaze past a wide chest in a pale summer shirt, up to a shadowy face topped by short, dark hair.

The light streaming through the huge windows was behind him yet she had no trouble recognising him.

If she hadn’t identified the scent of his skin or the feel of those hands on her body, the jut of that arrogantly hewn jaw would have given him away. Not to mention her body’s reaction.

She concentrated on ripping herself free of his hold, only to stand there, staring up at him because her legs wouldn’t work.

‘You!’ That deep voice cracked like a whip. ‘It is you.’

‘You took the words out of my mouth.’ Her scratchy voice wobbled as she forced herself to meet his eyes. Dark brown and filled with animosity. Flames licked her skin at the intensity of his flaying stare. ‘What are you doing here?’

Apart from staff, no one else was expected on the island except Chiara’s fiancé.

Dido’s breath hissed in, her lungs seizing.

No, no, no. It’s not possible. It can’t be.

Fate couldn’t be so cruel.

That wouldn’t just be a nightmare, it would be complete catastrophe.

The implications were…utterly impossible! Her mind shut down the idea. There had to be another explanation.

Maybe he owned the place. That would make sense. It was the sort of high-end business that would appeal to him. Perhaps he’d come to check on his investment.

Hadn’t she seen him last night through the trees? It must’ve been him. Chiara had paid for privacy but he was the sort to walk roughshod over others. If he owned the place, what would that mean for her role in the wedding?

‘That’s my question. What are you doing here?’ He didn’t raise his voice but it held all the arrogance of a man used to having the world kowtow to him. ‘Are you following me?’

Finally she managed to back up a step, pressing a hand to her abdomen as if to quell the horrible churning inside.

‘Following you?’ Her discordant laugh was too loud. ‘You really do have the most enormous ego. I have no interest in being anywhere near you.’

He folded his arms, the action drawing attention not only to the breadth of his chest and the strength of those biceps, but somehow to the solid length of his wide-planted legs as well. He looked disgustingly fit and strong. Alarmingly masculine.

Attractive too, if you liked classically handsome features burnished by a sneer.

Dido had already had enough of this man’s supercilious arrogance to last several lifetimes. Her skin crawled as memories she’d packed up and locked away spilled free, a deluge of pain and hatred.

‘Liar.’ His lip curled. ‘There was a time when I couldn’t get rid of you. You kept bombarding my staff, badgering them to put through your calls.’

Dido rescued the tablet that was in danger of slipping from under her arm and held it against her chest, arms crossed around it as if hugging a protective shield.

‘Until you sicced your lawyers onto me with their threats.’ She watched his eyebrows rise as if surprised she’d allude to that. But she wasn’t ashamed. She’d done nothing wrong. He’d been the one to behave appallingly.

If she didn’t feel sickened at the memories she’d tell him he was a bully and a coward, afraid to have a single conversation with the person he’d treated so shoddily.

But, despite her reference to the lawyers, the last thing she wanted was to rehash the past. It was too late. Nothing could be gained from it and, she realised with piercing terror, there was so much to lose.

Another step back, her chin rising lest he sense her feelings. Mutual antipathy she could handle, but there were complicating factors she needed to consider.

‘So, if you didn’t follow me to Tahiti, why are you here?’ He looked at the tablet she clutched. ‘You’re not a reporter now, are you?’

It was a fair question given his prominent position.

How pathetically cruel that she hadn’t realised who he was the first time they’d met. If she’d had an inkling of his true situation, much less his character, she’d have run a mile, despite what she’d once thought about his sexy body and his charm.

Was it possible she’d been drunk the whole time she’d known him? It would make a wonderful excuse for her terrible mistake in finding him attractive, much less trusting him.