Page 36 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

How long until he realizes this life is no longer what he wants?

Except he’s been putting himself through this for nearly two weeks now. No, it’s not a lot of time. But frightened as I am, it’s not fair to make assumptions. He’s showing up right now, and in a big way. That’s what I need to be focusing on instead of the what-if’s.

“Would you like to come with me?”

“Yes, I would.”

Thrilled at his response, we walk to the elevator.

“You met with security yesterday,” I say as the doors close.

I can sense the change in his mood, the darkening of his temper as he pushes the button for the first floor. “I did.”

“I take it the meeting didn’t go well?”

“Better than I expected. My expectations, however, were not overly high to begin with.”

He doesn’t elaborate. I want him to confide in me, would like to have more conversations that don’t revolve around summaries of our days or quiet inquiries about how I’m feeling.

But at least we’re talking. That’s better than what my parents have.

Although my mother has been different these past few days. Ever since Dominic gave me the ring. She’s still reserved, still judgmental. Yet she’s smiled at me more than once, even engaged Dominic in conversation at dinner. I want to embrace this change, want to enjoy it. But I still don’t trust it.

How can I after a lifetime of distance? I never got to see the woman she was before she finally gave up on my father loving her. It’s hard to imagine her as anything but cold and domineering. Yet those wistful looks, the small physical touches, have me wondering if she’s thinking back to the beginning of her marriage when she thought she might still be able to have a happily ever after.

The possibility of her reliving that vicious cycle of hope and devastation makes my heart ache even as it serves as a warning. If I let down my guard too much, I could suffer the same fate.

As we walk out the front doors and down the steps to where the limo is waiting, Dominic takes my elbow and quickens his step to move just ahead of me. He never touched me when he was serving as my bodyguard, but he always stayed close, angling himself between me and potential threats. Back then it was for the job. Now it’s for the baby. I’m enjoying it, but I can’t help but wonder how long this tenderness will last.

Dominic promised his fidelity, demanded mine. Yet just like my mother’s changes, it’s hard to believe his dedication will last. Not when his entire life has been upended and the things he thought he would always have—privacy, freedom, autonomy—have been yanked away.

I push those thoughts away. I’m mentally prepared for the eventuality. But right now, I’m going to live in the moment.

The limo ride to the hospital is quiet, peaceful. We wind our way through Silvestra del Mar, the “forest of the sea.” The thick pines create a shadowed canopy, the forest stretching out for kilometers to the east and all the way to the coast to the west.

“You have a beautiful country.”

I look away from the forest to see Dominic watching me. Pleased, I smile.

“I do.” I turn back. “I need to remember that more. Focus on my duty.”

“Is that coming from you or your mother?”

Surprised and slightly irritated, I keep my gaze focused on the trees and the occasional patches of blue overhead. “Regardless of what you think of her, she’s right. I accepted this position. Now I have to do right by it.”

“Accepted? Or were you pushed?”

My jaw tightens. “Regardless, I’m here now. I need to work on accepting that and preparing to be the best queen I can for my country.”

Silence falls again, but this time it’s thick, uncomfortable. My fear that Dominic will never fully understand royal life rears its head once more. No, I don’t like that my choices were taken from me, that the dreams I had for my future were crushed. But unlike my parents and brother, I’m not going to place my personal wants and needs ahead of my people. The leaders my grandfather installed before relinquishing his crown after his sixtieth birthday have done well. But I have the opportunity to get involved, bring the crown back to its former glory. I want to be a part of supporting Siravelle instead of just enjoying the perks of being a royal.

Twenty minutes later the limo starts up the drive to the main entrance of the Hospital of Her Majesty Villaluz. Gleaming white walls and polished windows greet us, along with pots of purple and snow-colored aster blooms.

The hospital has expanded over the years, adding three floors to the initial four and wings for maternity, pediatric care, cancer treatment and other specialties. My mother and I may not see eye to eye on pretty much anything, but I know she’s been heavily involved in raising funds for the memory care wing.

I stare up at the sixth floor as we round the bend. The floor I spent most of my time on between my tenth and twelfth birthdays. It’s bittersweet every time I visit. The memories of lying on my grandparents’ beds as my grandfather underwent treatment, and then my grandmother, are filled with grief. But I also remember the kindness of the nurses, the doctor who explained the treatments and procedures to me as if he were talking to a colleague instead of a child.

A hand settles over mine. I slowly face Dominic.