Page 5 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

He needed to figure out out what he was going to do about replacing Callista as his plus-one for the Baros party. He cursed her again for putting her vices on public display. But then, he had to concede that if they’d actually announced their engagement and she’d been caught in such a compromising position, it would have been a lot worse.

Axel mentally scrolled through the women in London he might call for sex or to attend a social event—beautiful accomplished women who knew the score. But not one of them appealed for this because Axel knew that if he was asking them to appear with him for a prolonged period of time and then to go with him to the Baros benefit, they would inevitably think the rules had changed and that they could be in line for something more permanent.

Damn. He looked out of the window of the car and something caught his eye. Bright blonde hair. Short. Curly. A petite figure in a pencil skirt, matching jacket. Shirt with a colourful tie. Pulling a wheelie case behind her.

Hope Smith.

He watched as someone turned and walked straight into her, almost felling her, she was so tiny, but they caught her. It was a man and he had his hands on her shoulders and she was looking up and smiling and shaking her head as if to say, no, no, it was my fault. Like the way she’d taken responsibility for tripping over Axel’s feet on the plane.

But all Axel could see was the way the man was taking her in, this fey sprite, and assessing her appeal. An appeal that galvanised Axel to tell Derek to stop the car. He had got out and was standing beside her before he’d even consciously made the decision.

* * *

Hope was gritting her teeth. She didn’t like the way the man—who had barrelled right into her; she wasn’t that small!—was digging into her shoulders and not letting her go. Her feet were killing her in the court shoes and she wanted to get back to her little humble rental that she shared with an old friend.

‘Look, it’s fine, really, now, if you’ll—’ She stopped talking because the air around her seemed to change and become electrified. She was aware of a tall dark shape beside her and the man holding her looked at the dark shape and went pale and suddenly lifted his hands from her and scurried off.

Hope turned and had to look up and her heart somersaulted in her chest. ‘Mr Drakos. I…what are you doing here?’ He was wearing a three-piece suit again and looked formidable.

His jaw was hard. ‘Stuck in traffic, if you can believe it.’

He said this as if it was the most outlandish thing, which for this man it quite possibly was. And then suddenly Hope realised maybe he’d seen her and had just assumed she was still on the clock. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, is there something I can help with?’

He looked at her. ‘We’re not on the jet now.’

Hope groaned inwardly. He must think she was so stupid. She felt her face get hot. ‘No, I know, I just… OK, look, I’ll get on, then. Goodbye, Mr Drakos.’

She turned to rejoin the flow of people arriving and departing the airport but he said, ‘Wait, let me give you a lift.’

As a fairly savvy Londoner, Hope knew very well that public transport was the most efficient way to get into town. She faced her boss again. He really did look so out of place among the mere mortals of the world.

‘That really isn’t necessary. I live in north London and at this time of day it’d take—’

‘I insist.’

Hope had a vision of the packed Tube and then the fifteen-minute walk to her flat. It might not actually be much slower in the car and it would certainly be far more comfortable, albeit slightly stressful with her boss. But he was insisting.

A car horn beeped and he said, ‘We’re holding up traffic now. Please.’

‘OK, thank you, that’s very—’

‘Nice?’ he interjected.

Hope looked at him suspiciously but he was reaching for her case and lifting it into the open boot and holding the door open for her. She was transgressing so many boundaries now she felt a bit dizzy.

Inside the car it was like a cocoon. The busy bustling world outside just fell away. The seat felt as if it was moulding around the contours of Hope’s body. It was luxurious and the car was so smooth she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t actually gliding a couple of feet above the ground.

‘What’s your address?’

Hope looked into a kind of middle distance. Surely she couldn’t be making eye contact now when he was a mere foot away on the other side of the car. ‘Um, it’s Baxter Gardens, but really, even if you drop me off at a central Tube I can jump on anywhere.’ She was sure this guy’s address was Mayfair or Kensington.

‘Baxter Gardens, Derek, you got that?’

‘Yes, sir, no problem.’

Hope clamped her mouth shut. He was probably the type that didn’t like unnecessary chatter and that was one of her big weaknesses. She babbled when she was nervous.

‘So how long have you been a flight attendant?’