Page 140 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

He was holding her face steady so she couldn’t look away. Instead, she closed her eyes to blot him out. ‘And you do?’

The fact her tone had taken on a slightly combative edge should have warned him he was pushing her buttons too hard, but Javier wanted to make this point. He needed her to understand she could let him in and let him go, all in one breath—just as he planned to do with her. Caring for each other wasn’t an indication of permanence, nor dependence. He knew neither of them wanted that.

Not that he had experience with this, but he could accept it was just the way things were with them. Perhaps because any other alternative was impossible. He knew he had to leave. That was non-negotiable. He also knew he wanted to get beneath the surface with Astrid, to understand all the gears that turned inside that beautiful head of hers. Equally non-negotiable. But she wasn’t the only one fighting demons of her past. Once upon a time, he’d been a little boy, asking his stepmother to love him, his brother to play with him, and he’d faced rejection after rejection after rejection. Only his father had welcomed and wanted him, yet he travelled so often, it was like being thrust from light to dark at the drop of a hat. Astrid was trying to reject what he was offering and though he was now a man of thirty-two, he couldn’t contemplate that without a twist of remembered pain and a whisper of self-doubt.

‘We’re different people,’ he said, finally.

She blinked her eyes open and looked at him, frowning slightly. ‘What does that mean? You’re happy being alone but I’m not allowed to be?’

He was. If the alternative was putting himself in the position of being hurt, of wanting more than was offered, he’d always choose the life he had. He’d never met anyone who’d made him question that.

Until now?

He shut the thought down before it could take hold. Astrid was only different because she was different. What had started as revenge against his brother had morphed into a desire to know her as a woman, not just a queen, but of course her status and life played a part in this. She was fascinating and unusual.

‘You’re not happy, though, Astrid.’

‘How can you say that?’

‘Am I wrong?’

She shook her head and he dropped his hands away, moving them to her hips instead.

‘Life is about more than happiness,’ she said.

He heard the stubbornness in her tone and knew that pushing her was futile. ‘I don’t want to fight with you. Particularly not as a mechanism you’re using to shut me out.’

She opened her mouth, perhaps to deny it, then made a sound of frustration instead. ‘Can we just decorate the tree?’

Another tool to keep him at a distance but he didn’t push it. Her words channelled that same rejection feeling he hated. But she’d think about what he’d said and maybe understand that she had a rare opportunity to be close to someone without it bringing any risks. Time would separate them and they’d go back to their lives, which meant they could fall headlong into this for now, without worrying about what came next.

But maybe he was asking her for too much. To trust him with her pain, with the truth of who she was when he hadn’t shown the same willingness. He was suggesting she go out on a limb without doing the same himself.

‘Help me with this?’ she asked, back to normal in the blink of an eye, proving his point. She had an impressive ability to lock away whatever she was feeling and put on a mask. Impressive, but damned annoying.

He took a page out of her book, though, reaching out and taking the plug end of the lights. Her smile was tentative, her eyes not quite meeting his. He watched as she moved to the tree, so graceful and perfect, so regal. She began to unspool and string the lights from the bottom up. At the halfway point, she turned to him and said, ‘Let’s swap.’

It made sense. She wasn’t tall and there was no way she could reach the top of the tree without a ladder. ‘But it’s far more fun watching you,’ he responded, enjoying the way colour flooded her cheeks and her eyes narrowed with obvious sensual heat. He took the lights from her though, doing the same thing she had, walking slowly around the tree and threading the lights into the branches, all under Astrid’s watchful gaze.

Finally, when the lights were all in place, he looked at her.

‘Ready?’

He arched a brow expectantly, as Astrid crossed to the window and crouched down, to where a power point had been discreetly placed. When she plugged it in, even Javier—a cynic from way back—felt something deep down inside of himself.

For most people, Norvenheim had an almost fairytale like association with coziness. It was a country renowned for all things homely and sweet, for warmth and hospitality and yes, for Christmas. The traditions, the markets, the culture, the music and the decorating of a tree, were all hallmarks of these people.

Which went a long way to explaining why he’d turned his back on this tradition. In fact, his best Christmases had been in countries like the UAE or Australia, where it was hot and sunny, and he could spend the day surfing or on a boat, pretending the whole thing didn’t exist.

Leave it to Astrid to force him to confront it, though. He couldn’t even rally himself to care.

‘Perfect,’ she said, her voice slightly uneven as her caramel eyes raked the tree from top to bottom. ‘It’s already perfect.’

‘Then we’re done?’ he teased, earning an eye roll from her that couldn’t help but be sensual.

‘Not quite.’ She moved to the occasional table and lifted her champagne flute, taking a sip before walking to the boxes. ‘I know it’s not completely the same, when the ornaments are new,’ she said, opening the first box.

‘No?’