Page 131 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

Astrid was still close enough to Carlotta and Otto to hear the former whisper, ‘What is he doing here?’ so she knew they’d seen Javier as well.

Desperately needing to calm her nerves and continue with the evening, she sought refuge in a group of politicians, moving towards them and extending her hand. Their conversation ceased as soon as she appeared and one by one, they bowed, smiled and began to make the polite sort of comments for which she was prepared. This was what she’d expected tonight to be—not hours of pretending Javier didn’t exist.

* * *

The second he’d walked in and seen her talking to Carlotta and Otto, he’d known he’d done the right thing to delay his departure. Clearly Astrid didn’t know what they were really like. Perhaps she never would. Javier had no interest in bearing his soul to her about his childhood, about the way Carlotta had treated him and tried to ruin his life. No good would come from replaying the past and admitting that they still held any kind of power over him, because they didn’t.

But he could protect her from making a disastrous marriage.

He could protect her from marrying a man who would be using her to become powerful and visible. Protect her from elevating Carlotta to a position of respect and admiration, when she deserved no such thing.

Though tonight, all he could realistically do was watch her from afar, aware that to talk to her was to spark the sort of rumour neither of them wanted. To be close to her was to risk something far worse. To touch her in a way his fingers yearned to, the way his body ached to pull her against his and make love to her all over again.

One night be damned.

* * *

It was almost impossible to get a moment alone at an event such as this, but right before taking the stage, Astrid succeeded. After Anja had cleared a room to the side of the abbey, Astrid retrieved her phone from her assistant and scrolled to Javier’s number. She’d saved it into her contacts even as she’d promised herself she’d never call him. What was that if not a lie she’d told herself? And been foolish enough to believe for all of twenty-four hours! She loaded up a text and typed quickly:

What are you doing here?

She sent it, then slipped her phone back in her bag, handed it to Anja, sucked in a deep breath and mentally transitioned to the queen her guests were expecting to see. Head held high, shoulders squared, she thought of her mother, who’d performed this role so many times, her father who’d always looked on so proudly. She remembered what it had been like, as a little girl, to come to hear these songs, the sense of wonder and mystery, the sense of occasion. She flashed a bright smile across her face as she stepped out onto the altar. She did not make the mistake of looking at the crowd, however.

She didn’t know where Javier was sitting and to scan the crowd would, she worried, be to look for him. And then what? A stricken expression on her face, for the whole world to see? She couldn’t permit that. So instead, Astrid kept her gaze focused on the enormous Christmas tree at the back of the abbey, decorated in the country’s colour scheme of gold, light blue and white. Lights had been strung across it, glowing softly golden. From time to time, she let her gaze flick to the front row, right hand side, but only because she knew that was where the prime minister was sitting and in him, she had safety and familiarity.

She’d never been so relieved to finish a speech, though, as she was that night.

* * *

Later, after the beautiful music had ceased and a thunderous applause almost raised the roof of the ancient abbey, Astrid was reunited with her clutch purse. She pulled her phone out quickly, heart racing as she read the response:

Would you prefer I leave?

It was frustratingly inadequate. No answer, no promise. No offer for anything more. And the second she homed in on the reason for her disappointment, she realised how huge the risk was here.

I didn’t say that.

‘Your Majesty?’

She spun around as Prime Minister Skarsgard appeared at the door, smiling softly. ‘You planned an exceptional event, as always.’

She dipped her head once, in recognition of that.

‘How did your meeting go with Javier Diamandi?’

Her pulse throbbed. ‘Fine.’ Her voice, usually so controlled, trembled. She cleared her throat.

‘Did he speak to you about the development plans?’

Her eyes widened. It had been the point of the meeting Henrik had arranged and yet they hadn’t come close to discussing anything so formal. In the back of her mind, she was aware of his restraint in not using their connection to push his agenda. Aware and grateful. ‘We were cut short,’ she fibbed. ‘I’m afraid we didn’t get to it. But as with all things, Prime Minister, I trust you to take care of the details. Please, feel free to keep me up to date, as needs be.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Royal approval would mean a lot, at the outset.’

‘Then perhaps you can bring the plans to your next palace interview?’

‘I would prefer to get this stitched up while Javier is still in the country.’

‘Do you know when he’s leaving?’ She could have kicked herself for asking. It sounded natural enough, but Astrid understood what was at the root of it. She wanted to know for personal reasons, not professional.