Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 by Carol Marinelli (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

reins of the multinational corporation that sprawled about into different industries. Everyone had predicted they would run the business into the ground. Instead, the two of them had doubled their father’s wealth within the first two years of their ownership. Each one of them was now far richer than their father had ever been.

Something no article she’d ever read about the Skalas family—and she’d read them all—failed to trumpet.

Balthazar was the eldest son. He split his time between the company’s headquarters in Athens and important satellite offices like this one and was considered the more serious of the two brothers. Constantine was the flashier of the two, thanks to his penchant for race cars and models, and he spent more time in the London office.

The rumor was they detested each other.

But neither Skalas brother ever responded to rumors about their personal lives.

Kendra had expected the office to be empty as it was coming up on eight o’clock that night—the only time the great Balthazar had found in his tightly packed schedule. Instead, she could hear the hum of activity, and as she walked toward the reception area, could see people hurrying back and forth as if it was eight in the morning.

The woman waiting behind the reception desk offered a perfunctory smile. “Ms. Connolly, I trust?” When Kendra nodded, because she seemed to have lost her voice somewhere on the trip from her car, the woman pressed a few buttons. “Mr. Skalas is on a call, but will be with you shortly.”

She stood and led Kendra through the great glass doors behind her desk into the rest of the office. Then walked briskly on heels that were not the least bit sensible, making it look as if she was gliding on air.

It made Kendra instantly feel inadequate.

Still, there was nothing to do but follow the woman where she led. Instead of turning toward the noise and people, the receptionist took her in the other direction. Where there was only a long, gleaming, marble hallway with one side dedicated to an art collection so fine it made Kendra’s head spin. On the other side, floor-to-ceiling windows showed Manhattan laid out at her feet. She couldn’t help but feel as if she was walking along the ramparts of an ancient castle, forced to sacrifice herself before a terrible king for the good of her village—

But imagining that she was in the Dark Ages didn’t make this any better.

At the end of the hall the receptionist led her into another room, this one clearly also a waiting area, but far more elegant. And hushed.

“This is Mr. Skalas’s private waiting area,” the woman told her. “Please make yourself comfortable. If you require assistance, you may step across the hall, where the secretarial staff will be happy to help in any way they can.”

Then she was gone.

Leaving Kendra alone with her mounting panic.

She couldn’t bear to sit, afraid she might come out of her own skin. She stood and stared out the windows instead.

“There’s nothing to fear,” she told herself firmly, if under her breath. “He won’t remember anything about you.”

The real trouble was that she remembered all too well.

She didn’t recall what charity event her mother had used as an excuse that summer. Kendra had only just graduated from Mount Holyoke, certain it would be a matter of months before she could take her rightful place in the family company. She’d figured it was her job, then, to act the part of the businessperson she intended to become. She might not have taken naturally to the world of business—far preferring a good book and a quiet place to read it to the endless rounds of deals and drinks and men in their golf togs—but who ever said life was about what felt good? Surely it was about what a person did, not what they dreamed about. Accordingly, she’d been putting herself out there. She might not have felt sparkling and effervescent, the way her mother always told her she ought to, but she could pretend.

And so she had, waving a cocktail around as she’d laughed and mingled and exhausted herself so thoroughly that after dinner, she’d sneaked off for a few moments’ break. The dancing was about to begin beneath the grand tent that sprawled over the part of her parents’ lawn that offered the best views of Long Island Sound.

She paid no mind to the distraught woman who passed her in a rush of tears and silk on the trellis path that led to her favorite gazebo, set up above the rocky shoreline. It was a pretty evening and the air was warm with scents of salt, grass, and flowers. She could hear the band playing behind her as she walked, and she welcomed the dim light of the evenly spaced lanterns along her way because they were far less intrusive than the brightness inside the tent. She could drop her smile. She could breathe.

It was only when she climbed the steps to the gazebo that she saw him standing against the far rail, almost lost in the shadows.

And then wondered how she could possibly not have felt his presence, so intense was he. The punch of him.

Kendra had felt winded.

He wore a dark suit that should have made him indistinguishable from every other man at that party. But instead she found herself stunned by the width of his shoulders, his offhanded athletic grace. His mouth was a stern line, his eyes deep set and thunderous. His hair was thick and dark and looked as if he had been running his fingers through it—though it occurred to her, with a jolt, that it had probably not been his fingers.

It had been a clear, bright evening, but she suddenly felt as if a summer storm had rolled in off the Sound. As if the clouds were thick and low. Threatening.

And all he did was lift a brow, arrogant and ruthless at once. “I don’t believe I sent for a replacement.”

It had made no sense.