Page 183 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

A second later a child cried for its mother and Dido bolted.

The shock of that cry rocked him back on his heels.

A small, still functioning part of his brain noted that explained the teddy bear and childish blanket. But to all intents and purposes his brain shut down for precious seconds, grappling with the idea of Dido with a child.

Pain radiated from his clenched jaw and fisted hands through every tensed muscle in his body.

She’d had a baby.

Out of nowhere nausea hit in a cresting wave that made his stomach churn.

His vision blurred as he imagined her naked with another man. Sharing with a faceless stranger all the intimacies that Panos had once believed so special between them.

Had she conned her next lover too? Making him think their relationship out of the ordinary?

Or, worse, had it been real? Did Dido and the child’s father have the sort of relationship Panos had craved? The sort he’d believed he was halfway to attaining with the duplicitous Ms Jones?

For some reason the notion was like a punch to the head and one to the gut.

He stalked from the room, following her into the minuscule entry space. He’d been angry before but now he could barely contain his ire. It felt as if his skin were too tight to contain it, as if it would burst free in a devastating blast if he didn’t exercise the utmost control.

Dido was bent over a stroller behind which stood an older woman whose facial features and olive-green eyes spoke of a familial link.

Dido had claimed her parents were dead. Another thing she’d lied about?

‘Theeny’s fine,’ the woman said. ‘It was just—’ She stopped, gaping at him. Her eyes grew round and her mouth opened and closed as if she’d never seen a man before.

As clear as day, Panos saw her surprise turn to fear, before her jaw set and her chin lifted in a way he knew so well. Clearly she was related to Dido.

Between them, Dido kept her back to him, looking down at what she held in her arms. Her child.

But she knew he was there. He saw tension in her slender neck and the angle of her shoulders. He felt it vibrate off her, like ripples in a pool after someone dived in.

Did she too, feel like she was drowning, tugged under by an unseen current? No, she wasn’t floundering. Her voice was crisp as she said, ‘Could you open the door, Flavia? Mr Diamandis is leaving.’

As if!

Two strides took him to Dido. Ignoring his body’s instantaneous fizz of reaction to hers, he looked over her shoulder and his breath died.

There, looking up at him, her face red, was a little girl with wild dark curls and long-lashed brown eyes. As he stared, fixated, he noticed two things. The sprinkling of familiar gold flecks in her eyes. And the fact that she looked exactly like the photo he’d seen of his mother as a toddler.

His larynx cramped, turning his voice into an unfamiliar, husky growl. ‘And who is this?’

He waited a beat but Dido made no response, just stood as if turned to stone. As if he might lose interest and walk away if she ignored him!

Panos thought he’d known anger before. But he discovered his earlier feelings were nothing to the molten fury he felt now. He’d never been one to shout or rant but now only the proximity of the child allowed him to keep his voice soft.

He leaned forward, watching the toddler’s gaze track his movement as if she’d never witnessed anything so fascinating. He knew the feeling. His gaze was riveted to her, taking in the small, heart-shaped face, the smudge of what might be ice cream on her cheek and the beginnings of a smile.

When he spoke again he was so close he inhaled the scent of warm, honeyed skin with a tantalising note of vanilla from the woman standing so rigid beside him.

‘But you haven’t introduced me,’ he murmured. ‘Besides, we have so much more to discuss.’

Satisfaction pierced his rage as Dido jumped. But she couldn’t have been naïve enough to think he’d walk away after seeing the child.

For what seemed a whole minute no one moved. Until the little girl lifted her hand towards him, little fingers opening and closing in what might have been a wave. Then, as if finally sensing the fraught emotions around her, her forehead puckered and she cried, ‘Mumma!’

Dido swung around, her hand protectively covering the back of the child’s head as she faced him. If he’d had doubts about his instinctive deduction, her protective stance now would have obliterated them.