Page 216 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

She shook her head. How was it even possible he believed her after all this time? She’d given no absolute proof. What proof could there be? It was Charlie’s word against hers and Panos had been quick to judge the first time.

A growl of thunder sounded in the distance. It was coming more often, a storm moving in. The wind had built in the hour since Panos had disappeared into the night.

Eventually Dido had left the table, tidying up and making her way upstairs. But sleep had been impossible. Her emotions were a quagmire. Satisfaction at finally having her say competed with sharp regret for the lost dream of their perfect romance. Momentary triumph even, at seeing him realise how badly he’d treated her.

There was pain too, for herself and, remarkably, for Panos. She’d tried to hold on to righteous indignation but it was impossible when he was clearly gutted.

She didn’t think she’d ever forget the sound of his voice saying he was sorry.

Those two words weren’t nearly enough after what he’d done, yet she couldn’t rejoice in his shock and misery. She’d been reaching for him when he strode from the room.

Thunder boomed close to the house and with it came rain, light at first, bringing the petrichor scent of fresh rainwater on baked earth. But soon it was drumming down. She looked out as another bolt of lightning lit the sky and for a second saw a hunched figure in the distance.

A moment later the night was black again, the moon obscured. But the image of that figure was branded on her retinas.

Panos. She only recognised him because there was no other person on the island. The bowed head, slumped shoulders and hunched curve of his back belonged to someone other than the proud, capable man she knew. He looked defeated, a word she’d never imagined to describe him.

Dido tried to conjure common sense, reminding herself he deserved to feel rotten about what he’d done.

It didn’t make her feel better.

Where did this leave them? Even if Panos believed her and regretted his actions, he was still a man she couldn’t wholly trust. Wasn’t he?

If she were advising a friend she’d warn her off a man who’d treated her so reprehensibly.

But things didn’t seem so black-and-white. Especially given the snippets he’d revealed about his life and relationships, or lack of them. Raised by paid servants who hadn’t even let a lonely child into the warmth of the kitchen. His first—and only?—love had wanted payment for sex. Women falsely claimed he’d fathered their children to get money from him. Any public missteps were fodder for the voracious press.

Dido barely comprehended what his life had been like. For seventeen years she’d been secure in her parents’ love. They’d supported each other as she and her aunt did now.

It shouldn’t surprise her that Panos had learned distrust. That didn’t excuse his actions, but as she listened to the downpour and imagined him out there, battered by the elements, sympathy mingled with impatience.

Had anyone, ever, befriended him out of anything other than self-interest? Or comforted him when he was hurt?

Her gaze strayed to her precious daughter, thinking of how her wobbling bottom lip would widen into a smile when Dido kissed her hurt better.

Panos was a grown man, not an infant. He knew the island far better than her. He’d be perfectly fine. Yet she couldn’t go to bed while he was out there.

* * *

He hadn’t moved since she’d seen him in a flash of lightning, sitting on a rock perched above the beach.

The rain was just a sprinkle now but in the light of her phone’s torch, she saw his hair plastered to his skull and his clothes sodden, clinging to broad, bowed shoulders. He didn’t look at the small glimmer of moonlight shining on the sea through a gap in the clouds. Instead his head hung as he stared at the rock between his feet, hands clasped between his knees.

‘Panos.’ He didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to hear. She stepped closer and raised her voice. ‘Panos.’

He stiffened, head rising slowly between slumped shoulders, though he didn’t turn. His voice was so raw it shocked her. ‘Go inside, Dido. There’s no point you getting wet.’

‘The storm’s clearing.’

As if that mattered. She’d thought he looked miserable when she saw him from the window, but up close his air of desolation reminded her of the terrible grief she’d felt after her parents died and her world turned on its head.

Was that what had happened to Panos? Had the world turned on its head?

But surely he’d been wrong before. Surely he’d jumped to conclusions he later regretted.

‘It’s better you go in,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I can’t, not yet. I don’t…’

She shivered, rubbing her hands up her bare arms, suddenly conscious that she wore only her skimpy red nightie. Stupid to act so impulsively but the need to go to him had been a compulsion.