Page 55 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

I open my eyes and gasp. A magnificent white catamaran is tethered to the end of the dock. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I can’t help but turn and hug him.

“I remember how much you loved the gondola in Venice.” He reaches up, lays a hand against my cheek. “And this time you can enjoy it without having to hide behind a mask.”

Touched, I let him escort me down the dock and onto the boat. I settle into a plush chair on the top deck, soaking in the sight of the ocean and the lush mountains behind us as the sun slowly sinks toward the horizon. I glance around.

“I’m surprised there are no other boats,” I call back to him.

He grins. “Actually, security is providing custom patrols via drones for twenty nautical miles.”

I smile and shake my head. “It pays to have a bodyguard. How did you decide on private security?”

He doesn’t answer. Self-conscious, I turn my attention back to the ocean. Things between us have been so much better. But I shouldn’t have pushed.

Dominic drops the anchor, then walks down a couple of steps and stops in front of me, holding out his hand. He doesn’t look angry or upset. I just need to let it go and enjoy the time we have together.

He leads me down to the lower deck, into a cushy daybed at the front of the boat. He disappears into the galley, reappearing with a flute of nonalcoholic champagne for me and a whiskey for him. He settles down next to me and stares out over the ocean.

“My first memory of my parents was fighting, too. Except my parents were throwing punches over who smoked the last joint.”

Horrified, I fight to keep my expression neutral.

“They controlled everything. Kept a padlock on the fridge. Locked me in my room overnight. After they dumped me at my grandmother’s, I never saw them again. I’d never met my grandmother before,” he adds softly. “She didn’t even know I existed.”

I give in and reach over, laying a hand on top of his. He freezes, but a moment later he turns his hand over, pressing our palms together as he threads his fingers through mine.

“I was terrified of them. But I still ran after them when they left. Screamed for them to come back. They were the only family I knew, and some part of me hoped they’d return, realize they’d messed up and would become better parents. They didn’t, of course, but it took four months with my grandmother to feel safe again.”

“What happened to her?”

“Old age.” The slight deepening of his voice hints at the depth of his grief. “She loved me like her own, was infinitely patient those first few months. She gave me my first taste of feeling like I really belonged. When she passed, my case worker found out my father had died in prison. And my mother had just disappeared.”

“So you ended up in foster care.”

He nods. “It wasn’t as bad as being with my parents. But my foster parents watched everything I did, everything I ate. They kept a running tally of what they spent on food, shampoo, clothing, so they could remind me how generous they were.” He goes quiet for a moment, his eyes distant as he takes a sip of whiskey. “My school brought in a local jiujitsu instructor to do a demonstration during class. He handed out flyers after. Two lessons for twenty dollars. I showed it to my foster parents when I got home. It was the first thing I’d been excited about since my grandmother died. My foster father ripped up the flyer. Said I could go without soap for a couple weeks or breakfast if I wanted to do the lessons. I got mad. I told him I knew he got money for me every month, more than enough to pay for the lessons.” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “He snapped. Slapped me across the face. I fell and hit my head on a table.”

My hand tightens on his as I bite back my own words. This isn’t the time for me to get upset, not when he’s sharing his own pain.

“Did they take you to a hospital?”

“My foster mom wanted to. My foster father said he was worried about the cost, but the real truth was that he was too scared of being charged with child abuse.”

“Bastard.”

His chuckle is a relief. So, too, is the moment when he releases my hand to slide an arm around my shoulders and pull me a little closer.

“I ran away that night. Swore I’d never depend on anyone but myself, that I would never let anyone control me like that again. It broke my ability to trust. I was big for my age even then. After the gang I hooked up with started delving into more violent crimes, I set out on my own. Took kids under my wing the way the gang did for me. I disagreed with the direction they took, but I don’t know if I would have survived without them.”

The thought has me leaning into him more. Five months ago I wanted nothing to do with him. Now I can’t imagine my life without him.

“Serving in a protective role comes naturally to me. Another reason I joined the military after I got my degree. When I got out, I wanted to keep that up while making something of myself.”

“And Hawke Security was born.”

“As I recall, you referred to it as a boutique bodyguard firm when I first met you.”