Page 44 of Forbidden Royal Vows

And he knew that if he said this to Lavinia, she would encourage him to go talk to their mother because she still believed that there was some sort of conversation they could have that would fix their childhood. Caius knew better. He knew who his mother was. And better yet, he knew that the Countess would never see what she’d done to them. She would never admit that she had been in the wrong.

As far as he knew, she never had.

And showing her that they cared would be a weakness she would try to exploit.

There was no point talking to his father, either, because while the man might eke out an apology, all he really cared about were his highs. Caius had never been sure if his father remembered that he existed between visits.

All he was, to anyone and everyone, was that character he played.

Smirky, salacious, dismissible.

DISGUSTING! more than one commenter had typed. In all caps.

With every step, he thought about the fact that this was who Mila believed he was. This was the man she thought she’d married.

This grasping, empty, cardboard cutout of a creature, dead behind the eyes and good for absolutely nothing but the clout the entirety of the internet was certain he had not earned.

Hell, he agreed.

But for a short while, he had been a man that he was proud of. In a lifetime of make-believe, playing characters to manipulate people and situations to survive or to shine, there had been one stretch of time when he had only been himself.

That was what he hadn’t forgiven her for leaving.

Their marriage was a symbol of that. The ring hanging there around his neck, still and always, reminded him with every step. It wasn’t just that she had promised to love him forever. It was that when she had made that promise, she’d meant him.

The real him.

Those months had been extraordinary. No one had known who Caius was, and therefore, he’d had no influence whatsoever. There’d been no performance to put on. They had all simply...walked. And hiked. Camped and slept, then hiked on some more.

He and Mila had gotten to know each other as people.

Nothing more, nothing less. They had never spoken about their lives off the trail, not for a long while. Not until they’d left their guided hike and gone off on their own.

Caius had liked that version of himself.

Mila had fallen in love with him.

And this last month in her September House had been a reintroduction to that man. It had been a sharp reminder of why he’d long ago decided he hated what he’d become—the reason he’d gone on that long hike in the first place.

He hadn’t wanted to return to that in the five years since, but he couldn’t put the fact he had on Mila. That was what he’d done to survive the loss of her. He’d gone out and frolicked in that spotlight, acting like it had never happened and he was incapable of caring either way if it had, and this was what he’d won.

He’d made himself what he hated.

He’d become exactly what his mother said he was.

So Caius took himself back to the woods. Step by step, he walked away from the spotlight and the speculation and that goddamned smirk, and he vowed that he would walk until he found himself again.

Until he became that man that he admired once again.

That man that Mila had loved before she’d become the Queen. The man he knew she didn’t believe he was now.

But he was. He wanted to be, for her, but mostly so he could find a way not to loathe the very sight of himself.

He vowed that he would walk until he found that man again, no matter how long it took.

And when he did, he would go back to Las Sosegadas and he would figure out how he could save the love of his life.

From himself.

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