Page 5 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

I turn away and stalk over to the window Sophaya was looking out just moments before. It’s unsettling to see her like this: caring, knowledgeable, kind. Part of me wants to believe it’s just an illusion. But as I glance over my shoulder and see the kind smile on her face as she offers words of encouragement to Maryanne, I know it’s just wishful thinking on my part. There’s another side to Her Royal Highness, one she’s managed to keep hidden during our time together. A side that’s unraveling the perception I’ve created, a belief that’s enabled me to keep my distance.

I shove my hands into my pockets, stare out the window as gondolas pass by on the darkened water below. I’m attracted to her. And now, with this new viewpoint, I’m intrigued.

The quiet murmur of her voice reaches my ears, whispers across the back of my neck. My fingers tighten into fists inside my pockets. This glimpse of the woman behind the crown doesn’t mean anything. Even if it wasn’t my duty to protect her, I would never sleep with her. That small flicker of interest, of something more than just simple lust, rules that out. I have zero interest in getting involved with a woman beyond dinner and sex.

Life taught me early on that most offers of so-called love come with conditions, painful ones that can rip your soul apart while the people you should be able to depend on walk away without a backward glance.

The room fades away. In the span of a heartbeat, I’m back on my grandmother’s sagging porch, struggling against her surprisingly strong grip as my mother climbs into the car without a single glance, my father at the wheel as he drives away. Instead of the distant din of voices and music, all I can hear is my own crying as I beg them to come back.

I blink. No one is worth that kind of pain, including Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Sophaya de Marivela. There’s been no indication the princess is even aware of my baser feelings. Her lack of attraction to me makes it easier to step back, to stay in control.

I breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. My heart rate slows. I identify the emotions—betrayal, abandonment—then mentally store them. When I served in First Recon’s Wraith Company, we’d talk for ten minutes with each other after every mission. The danger we faced, the lives we took and the lives we saved. I hated sharing, but I did what was required.

Now I simply lock it away. It’s my pain to deal with, no one else’s. The fact that Sophaya’s presence is making me even think about my damned childhood is yet another sign I need to distance myself.

The doctor arrives a minute later, along with Maryanne’s frazzled-looking boyfriend.

“Is she okay?” the boyfriend asks. His mask is crushed in one hand as he combs the other through his hair, his eyes fixed on Maryanne.

“She’ll be okay.”

The boyfriend swears as the doctor kneels in front of Maryanne. “She told me she wasn’t feeling good. But I pushed her to come because I…” His voice trails off, and he glances down at his pocket. “I was going to propose.” He shakes his head. “Stupid.”

Normally I’d agree with him. But judging by the way he’s looking at Maryanne like a forlorn puppy, I take pity on him.

I reach into my tuxedo jacket and pull out a Hawke Security card. “Email me. My brother rents out the palazzo every year. He can put you in touch with the owner. When she’s feeling better, bring her back and propose to her in private.”

The man’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

I nod.

The boyfriend raises his arms like he’s about hug me. I lower my chin and pin him with a stare that has his arms drifting back down to his sides. “Um…thank you.”

I look back just in time to see Sophaya watching us. She turns back to Maryanne and whispers something to her before standing and giving the doctor room to work.

I walk over to Sophaya and gently take her elbow. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

Sophaya nods. I quietly open the doors to the next room, which is also thankfully empty. Lights catch the gold vines painted across the red walls. Paintings trimmed in dark wood cover one wall. Couches done in the same vivid red are scattered around a plush rug.

I close the door gently behind me as Sophaya moves to one of the couches and sits, the voluminous folds of her skirt billowing out across the cushions.

“You did well.”

She glances up at me, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she doesn’t quite believe me. But after a moment, her lips curve up into a small smile. A real one that stabs right through me.

“Thank you.” She lets out a long sigh. “I’m ready to go back to my hotel now. I’ll text Claude and—”

“No.”

The smile disappears. I can practically see the crystals forming in her eyes as her lips thin into a narrow line of royal disapproval. “Excuse me?”

The warmth shifts, morphs into a heat that simmers deep in my gut. Before, when I thought she was just spoiled, her little shows of defiance were irritating. But now her insolence sends that heat spreading through me.

I advance toward the couch. She doesn’t back down, doesn’t shrink. No, she straightens her shoulders and lifts that pointed chin once more.

“You broke my trust tonight, Your Highness. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Chapter Three