Page 46 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

She shook her head. ‘No, it’s not a relationship. I believe we’re in a situationship.’

Axel huffed a laugh. ‘A what?’

‘It’s the lingo. I watch a lot of reality TV—my finger is on the pulse.’ She was smiling again but he sensed a brittleness underneath.

Axel was very aware that, somewhere close by, someone was snapping away at them and his skin crawled a little.

He took Hope’s hand and said, ‘Let’s go back and get that melon.’ While he waited for Hope to choose the best one, he texted Michalis back.

Tell the photographer that if he hasn’t got his shots, tough, he had his chance.

A couple of seconds later he got a response and a couple of images of him and Hope kissing and talking intently. Axel’s stomach churned. Michalis said: Got them. Cute. Talk later.

Before they got back to the car to return to the villa, they were walking down a side street, and Axel really hoped that the photographer had been called off when something caught his eye. It was an art gallery with a massive canvas in the window.

It was huge and full of vibrant colours, reds and oranges and dark purples.

Beside him Hope said, ‘I wouldn’t have thought this was your style. None of your places have art like this.’

No. And Axel felt acutely exposed now that Hope had noticed this. He took her hand and kept walking, saying, ‘It’s not at all.’

But actually, it was, and Axel had no intention of explaining to Hope, who was far too insightful as it was, something he couldn’t explain to himself—the fact that he’d always felt an instinctive need to avoid bright colours and displays of a more personal expression.

* * *

After that trip to the market the other day and the somewhat brutal and timely reminder of exactly why they were in this paradise—to generate paparazzi clicks for their situationship—Hope was careful not to let herself read too much into anything or to delve deep into her own emotions.

That day, she’d wanted to tell him she’d be with him for free. She pretty much had, but not so explicitly. She’d managed to make it sound as if it were still transactional.

She was dazzled by Axel. Of course, she was. Who wouldn’t be? He was pretty mesmerising. She was on a fantastical holiday with a gorgeous man with whom she shared insane chemistry and that was it. She would be required to attend a couple more events with him and then she would be sent packing so that he could advance to his next level of success and pursue a strategic marriage with someone suitable from his world.

She was sure that once she was out of his orbit, the world would return to its natural state again and this would all just be a distant and slightly unbelievable dream.

Hope wouldn’t go back to working on his private jet, or any private jet. She knew that now. Most likely she’d end up back in the economy-flight business. But that was OK. Or—she felt a spurt of excitement—maybe she could acually pursue advancing another career and check out what it would take to get into interior design. She could go back and do her A levels…

‘What are you thinking about?’ Axel’s voice came from beside her where they were lying on the sand under the shade of some trees. They were on a tiny secret beach that they’d found while exploring the island in an open-top four-wheel-drive.

Candice had made them a picnic basket earlier and sent them off. They’d just eaten a delicious spread of breads and dips and salad and fruit. Sparkling wine.

Hope turned her head and regarded Axel. His profile was noble. Another reminder of his lineage, dating back to the gods of Greece, and her decidedly less noble lineage.

‘Nothing much,’ she lied. She came up on one elbow. ‘What are you thinking about?’

Axel didn’t open his eyes. He said, ‘Whether or not Sasha and Lucas will make it.’

Hope laughed and flicked some sand at him. ‘Liar.’

He opened his eyes now. ‘I’m deadly serious. If Lucas finds out she was kissing Marco, he’s going to be devastated.’

Hope gasped. ‘But Sasha didn’t want to kiss Marco. He kissed her.’

They’d watched some of Hope’s favourite reality show on the TV in the media room the previous night but Hope had been more transfixed by how invested Axel had become in the dramatic and over-the-top twists and turns of a bunch of beautiful twenty-somethings sequestered on a desert island ostensibly to find true love.

He’d turned to her afterwards and said, ‘That was more brutal than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. When’s the next episode?’

Hope had laughed. And then stopped when she’d realised he hadn’t been joking. She’d asked him, ‘When was the last time you watched TV?’

‘Never?’