Page 184 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

‘Now’s not a good time,’ she hissed.

As if he’d asked to schedule a business meeting. This was more vital than any business he’d ever conducted.

Panos folded his arms across his chest. She couldn’t really think he’d leave now. ‘When would have been a good time? A bit over two years ago?’

He heard a gasp and Dido jerked back as if afraid he’d pluck the child from her arms.

If his conclusions were correct she had no right to shut him out, no matter how inconvenient.

The child not only looked like his dead mother, she had his eyes. Looking into them was like looking into a mirror.

Had Dido really had his baby and kept it secret all this time?

The idea was so outrageous he almost couldn’t believe it. Except for the proof of the child’s features. And the dismay, raw and unconcealed, on Dido Jones’ face.

Good. She deserved to be worried. He could barely imagine the sort of selfish deceit it took to keep a man’s child from him.

And you once thought you knew this woman. You believed her genuine and…

Panos slammed an iron door on those thoughts. He had no time for unproductive regrets.

‘Sh, little one.’ She jigged the toddler in her arms, at the same time shooting him a darkling stare. As if he’d upset the child, rather than her picking up the fraught atmosphere for which her mother was solely to blame. ‘If you’ll step aside, I’ll see to her.’

Reluctantly he moved, letting her pass, his gaze glued to the curve of the toddler’s cheek as she nestled against her mother, the arch of her eyebrow and the flash of curiosity in that dark eye.

Panos watched them disappear up the hallway.

‘Perhaps it would be better if you come back later.’

He’d almost forgotten the older woman. He turned to find her folding up the pushchair but when she straightened her gaze was as inimical as Dido’s had been. As if he were in the wrong!

Definitely related.

‘Better for Dido perhaps. But not for me, or my daughter.’

He watched her mouth open then snap shut.

So it was true. Despite the certainty that had grown in the last few minutes, this woman’s silent confirmation rocked him.

He was a father.

He had a little girl. A daughter.

His chest hurt, swelling with pleasure-pain, until he realised he’d forgotten to breathe. No wonder his head swam.

All this time…!

‘Perhaps you’d better sit down, Mr Diamandis.’

The woman gestured to the room he’d just left but Panos shook his head. ‘I’ll wait here.’

It was only a few strides from the lounge room to the front door but he wasn’t leaving Dido any opportunity to slip out with this child. On the thought, he frowned and started down the hall.

‘The back garden’s enclosed. There’s no way out from there.’

Slowly he turned, meeting her assessing gaze. ‘Why should I believe you, Mrs Jones?’

Her eyes narrowed then, surprisingly, she inclined her head. ‘Ms Hadley. Flavia Hadley. My sister Minerva was Mrs Jones, Dido’s mother.’ She paused, regarding him with the sort of unnerving stare his most fearsome nanny had perfected. ‘Given your background I’ll accept that you’re not used to taking people on trust. As for believing me, I don’t lie. Nor does my niece.’