Page 93 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

Julius’s lips thinned. “Hopefully temporary. The head wound is unfortunate, but other than the loss of consciousness and initial nausea when I woke up, there’s no evidence I’m still suffering from a concussion.”

Confused, Esme propped her chin on her hand.

“So what does that mean?”

“Most likely dissociative retrograde amnesia.”

“Pardon?”

“It means I saw something scary and disassociated from the event by forgetting everything about my previous life.”

The words came out as a growl. Esme felt herself slip back into her old role, the one of peacemaker, of guard and protector.

“You’re angry at yourself.”

“Extremely.”

“Because you feel weak.”

“Aren’t I?” he snapped. “Apparently I saw something frightening and instead of facing it, I retreated into my worthless mind.”

“Your mind’s not worthless, Julius.”

Her use of his first name did what it was intended. His shoulders relaxed, his frown lessening as he blew out a harsh breath.

“It is disconcerting to think I ran from danger. Even more so when I hear how I treated my employees.” His laugh was short and humorless. “I shudder to think of the ruler I was. What kind of ruler I will become.”

The guilt gnawed deeper, making her sick.

“Julius—”

“No more.” He suddenly looked tired, the shadows beneath his eyes darker and more pronounced. “I am in need of a walk.”

He stood and moved to the edge of the terrace. She pulled the lapels of her robe closer, seeking comfort in the plush material. She needed to talk to the doctor who had treated him, find out if telling him the truth would be better or worse for his recovery. Because keeping the secret of their time together was feeling more and more selfish. Yes, he’d hurt her. But he also hadn’t outright fired her. He had also made it clear in Paris that what they would have would be temporary.

She’d been the one to go and fall in love. To think they might have more than just one night. She knew he would have to marry someone suitable. The he was meant for someone else.

“Esmerelda?”

She blinked and focused on him.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“Would you like to join me?”

“Oh. I don’t want to interrupt—”

“I would prefer the company of someone else than just my own,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“Of course, sir.”

“Julius.”

He said it softly, but the single word was threaded with steel. She hesitated. It would be a submission. Surrender.

Part of her argued it was the best thing she could do given everything he’d been through. The still aching part of her soul fired back that after he’d cut her loose in such a cold manner, had taken away the career she had told him had been so important to her, he didn’t deserve any capitulation.

But when she silenced those voices, focused on her heart, she found that the answer was simple.

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