Page 74 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

‘So, I suppose I have to live here now?’ she asked after a moment. ‘Or is it possible for me to go back to my apartment until the marriage?’

He frowned at her, surprised she’d even ask. ‘Is that a serious question?’

She took another bite of her toast, then chewed and swallowed. ‘Yes.’

‘Of course you can’t go back to your apartment. Did you really expect that you would?’

That stubborn determination of hers glittered in her gaze. ‘I wanted to see just how autocratic you were going to be, and very seems to be the answer.’

Oh, so she’d decided to push him, had she? Another game he was very good at playing. ‘I am the King,’ he reminded her.

‘So this is a royal decree?’

‘If you’d like it to be, certainly.’

Her jaw tightened, a sure sign that she was losing the battle with her expressionless armour. Good. Maybe he’d push even harder since apparently she had no qualms in doing so. ‘I’d like to go back there to choose some—’

‘No,’ he interrupted, feeling a kind of bitter satisfaction in doing so. ‘You will not go out in public until our engagement ball. It’s for your protection. I’ll organise for your things to be brought to the Queen’s wing.’ He watched her face, wanting her to protest, to tell him that she wasn’t going to do that, give him something to push against.

‘I won’t be living in the Queen’s wing,’ she said, and he could hear the will in her voice again. ‘I’ll be in my usual rooms.’

‘That’s not—’

‘I’m not the Queen yet,’ she cut him off crisply. ‘Therefore it’s inappropriate for me to be living there.’

He took a breath and tried for a more conciliatory tone. ‘Wren. Don’t make this even more difficult than it already is. There’s no need for it.’

‘Too late,’ she said calmly. ‘You’ve already made this far more difficult than it needs to be. I’m just following your cue.’ Then before he could say anything else, she rose to her feet in a smooth movement. ‘Thank you for breakfast, sir.’ She gave him an ironic little curtsy, then left him sitting at the table, even more furious with himself than he had been.

Chapter Four

Wren stood in front of the full-length mirror in her rooms and gazed critically at her reflection. The gown the designer had made for her was the most beautiful thing she’d ever owned in her life. It was made of silvery blue silk, draped and swathed around her, leaving one shoulder bare while cupping her breasts to perfection, and the fall of the silk over her stomach discreetly hid her little bump.

She’d attended a lot of balls and events while working for the Valdoran royal family, and usually wore gowns on loan from various designers, but she’d never had anything that had been made specifically for her. She’d have truly loved it, if the gown had been for one of those events, and not for her engagement ball with the King.

The by now familiar ball of ice sat in her stomach, an anxiety that she couldn’t get rid of. For the past couple of weeks while she’d been confined to the palace, she’d taken to sitting in the small library near her own rooms, compulsively checking news and gossip websites. Isandro had sent out the press release a couple of days after their breakfast together and, as predicted, the media, both in Valdora and internationally, were having a field day.

The press release had placed Isandro squarely in the line of fire with trumpeting headlines calling him ‘The King of Sin’. He’d taken the blame for it, but she hated how it sounded as if she was merely a simple fool seduced and dazzled by the man she was working for. There were comments about power imbalances and privilege, and her own naivety. As if she’d had no say and no choice, when it had been the opposite. And if the media didn’t treat her like a child, then they bandied her mother’s name about—because, of course, her background was now in the media, too—and slut-shamed her. Making comments about how she was sleeping her way to the top, just like her mother.

She knew she shouldn’t read any of the articles and especially not look at the comments, but it was automatic for her. She wanted to know what was being said so she could figure out how to respond.

The palace, however, wasn’t answering questions, and she did wonder at the wisdom of that, since it was hardly controlling the narrative. Then again, Isandro had always believed that it was better to deprive a fire of oxygen and let it burn out on its own.

Since that awful, tense breakfast, he’d kept his distance, and she’d done the same. He’d frightened her that day, first when fury had sparked in his eyes after she’d told him that their marriage wouldn’t be a physical one, and then when he’d suddenly done a complete about-face, and accepted it.

She wasn’t frightened that he’d force her into something she didn’t want to do, because he’d never been that kind of man. She was frightened he’d call her bluff and that she wouldn’t be strong enough emotionally to stop him.

The bare fact was that she did want him. She wanted him fiercely. But she couldn’t confess to him the real truth, that a physical relationship only would tear her apart, because she couldn’t bear the thought of him telling her that he didn’t feel the same. And that frightened her, too.

She hadn’t been loved before. Her mother had cared more about her father, leaving Wren behind so she could be with him, because he hadn’t wanted her. And her grandparents had been nothing but impatient with her. They hadn’t been loving people, and had made no secret of the fact that they’d resented having to look after her. Living with them had been a cold and lonely existence, especially when she’d entered her teenage years. They’d told her that she had her mother’s weaknesses, and so it was imperative that she obey all their rules or else she’d ruin herself as her mother had. The seed of doubt they’d planted had carried her through university and into adulthood, and by now it was second nature to stick to the rules. To make sure she never put a foot out of line. Which made it ironic that she’d ended up having to be Isandro’s fixer for his wife’s indiscretions.

She’d always hoped that one day she’d find someone, though. Someone who loved her as much as she loved him, and that they’d raise a family together. She just hadn’t thought that the man she wanted to do that with would be married and the king of an entire country.

So no, she couldn’t tell him what she felt for him. Her heart wouldn’t be able to bear the rejection if he refused her, so all she could say to him was that she didn’t want him. He, of course, took that as a challenge, as she’d known he would. He didn’t like being refused, and also, he could tell when she was lying.

Using her body as a weapon felt wrong, but she had no other power, except for the fact that she was carrying his child, and she’d never use their baby as a weapon or a bargaining chip, she just wouldn’t.

He’d insisted that they pretend to be a loving couple, and she hadn’t argued with him about that. It was the best way to garner public sympathy. But she knew he’d use that to get to her, to remind her of their intense physical chemistry in an effort to undermine her ‘no sex’ rule.