Page 86 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

“Yes. That’s why.”

“When did your grandfather die?”

“About ten years ago. He left everything to me. Including some contacts, which I’ve used to help bolster my position.”

“I thought you didn’t take advantage of innocent people.”

“I don’t. But I’m privy to certain government movements. And I don’t have any issue taking money to fight against authoritarianism.”

“So you’re like a hired soldier. Mercenary.”

“Something like that. I have no purity to protect. I seek to not harm where harm isn’t necessary. But I’m also not trying to maintain my own morality. I find that makes it easy for me to maneuver in certain ways that others find difficult.”

“And is that what all of your men are doing?”

“Yes. All of us are from similarly broken backgrounds. What we are, and how we are, was decided for us long before we could make any decisions.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we killed people long before we ever got to make a decision about whether or not that was a good thing to do. Once you’ve already done that…”

I realize that I’m staring at him with an open mouth.

“That surprises you?”

“I don’t know that it surprises me per se. It’s only to hear you say it like that. Outright.”

“Shame is for the world that exists above the surface. And as you already pointed out, we are part of the underworld. Shame isn’t a currency here.”

“Apparently.”

“Which book are you looking at?”

I shake my head, somewhat surprised by the abrupt change of subject. “It’s fashion illustrations. You know that’s my major. Fashion. It’s why I was inclined to take the money for the surrogacy. Because internships and the ability to do anything for free are privileged. But I love fashion. Even if I do have issues with how the industry works. And that’s why I think things like your aesthetic and where you would live say interesting things about you.”

“If you say so.”

“You choose to wear a suit. You could be wearing a burlap sack.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“You just don’t like it because I looked at you and I knew.”

“I have no thoughts about it one way or the other.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t need to tell myself anything. But I was going to ask you if you wanted to see the collection of vintage clothing that belonged to my grandmother.”

I perk up at that. Yes, being a brat is fun, but seeing beautiful clothing that belonged to a rich woman with flexible morals? That sounds like the real gift.

“I would love that,” I say.

I stand up, and his dark eyes flicker right to my breasts. Just like I knew they would. My lips curve, just slightly. And I do my best to hide my satisfaction. He’s not immune to me. Normally, I don’t like that. A man’s sexual interest doesn’t do anything for me. Nothing but make my life harder. Generally speaking. But there’s something I find more than marginally useful about his interest. It warms me. Makes my nipples go tight, and if I weren’t determined to try to use whatever connection I can forge between the two of us, I might be embarrassed. Maybe.

But I don’t have any reason to be. Because this is part of the plan. And if my body is reacting, then good. The truth is, if it comes down to me having to sleep with him, to me finally breaking my vow of chastity, then there are far worse ways it could happen. After all, I’m already pregnant; he can’t get me pregnant again. And additionally, I do find him attractive. Even though I despise it. But it kind of makes sense. This situation is messed up. There are tricky power dynamics all over everything. And that feels like a hallmark of everything that would be designed to appeal to me. Because I’m not a girl who could ever engage in something harmless. Maybe subconsciously I’ve known that about myself. I’m not the kind of woman who could ever take easy or uncomplicated. Everything in my life that I’ve ever cared about I’ve fought and scrapped for. I’ve dug my claws right into. A man, I assume, would be no exception. Maybe that’s part of what’s always held me back. I tell myself that it’s fear of pregnancy, or being distracted, but it’s probably deeper than distraction.

I don’t drink. I don’t use substances of any kind. I’m convinced that addiction is an inherited trait. If you look at my family, you can’t prove any different. I stay away from things that can be addicting.