Page 129 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

And you’re not stopping me. Again.

Then she stifled her anger. Anger had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Had she kept her cool when he’d arrived on Grenada, she would have made the call far sooner.

“I’m making a choice.”

He stared at her, chest rising and falling, but he kept his hands clenched by his sides. The ring box had disappeared.

“I’m...” A ringing cut him off. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. His face hardened as his head snapped up.

“You called the palace.”

She raised her chin. “It’s what I should have done in the first place.”

Was it pain that flashed in his eyes? Or had she mistaken anger for hurt? Regardless, she had done her duty, and severed any connections remaining between them.

It was like walking through a fog, she thought, as she moved toward the end of the hall, one that made the world around her seem blurred. Elements of familiar pain wove through the ache pulsing in her bones.

She paused where the hallway, turned and looked back.

“You’ll make a wonderful king.”

Framed in the doorway to his room, with the ocean rising and falling beyond the window, his dark blond hair brushed back from his forehead and shoulders thrown back despite the weight that rested on them, he looked every inch the heir apparent.

She executed a formal bow.

“Your Highness.”

And then she was gone.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JULIUSTUGGEDONthe rope attached to the mainsail—mainsheet, not rope, he silently corrected himself—and savored the thrill as the sail pressed out. The boat picked up speed, curving around the northern tip of Rodina. The palace stood tall and proud nearly two hundred feet above his head, perched on a cliff that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean to the north and the west, and the distant, hazy coastline of Portugal to the east.

It had been nearly three weeks since he’d been back. Three weeks since Esmerelda had left. His fury, the gut-wrenching sensation of betrayal that she had called the palace had been short-lived.

There had been nothing left for him on Grenada. Nothing but memories of a fleeting time that he suspected was the happiest he had been in a long time.

Perhaps the happiest he would ever be.

He’d returned Burak’s call after Esmerelda had walked out, assuming the mantle of leader as if it had never slipped away. Within an hour he’d been on a private jet flying across the Caribbean Sea, despite his head of security’s insolent insistence that he wait for a team to come get him and ensure he was fit to fly after his attack.

His new head of security had greeted him at the airport. A tall bear of a man, Burak was intelligent, shrewd and relentless. He’d asked numerous questions, ranging from the hotel Julius had stayed at in London to the doctor he’d seen on Grenada. Questions Julius had answered concisely as he’d reviewed schedules, proposed legislation and news stories, catching up on the pieces of his life he’d missed out on the past week.

The only thing he deflected on was his and Esmerelda’s relationship. When Burak had prodded, Julius had speared him with an icy gaze and said, “If you want to keep your job, you will never, ever suggest that Miss Clark behaved in a manner unbecoming her position.”

Judging by his narrowed eyes and tight mouth, Burak hadn’t liked his answer. But he’d accepted it with a grudging nod before moving on to other questions.

The only other person who had been told the full truth of what had transpired was his father. When the plane had landed, Julius had requested an immediate audience with his father. Francisco had greeted him at the palace, his hug sparking both affection and guilt. Once they’d been secure in the privacy of Francisco’s study, he’d asked after Esmerelda and if she had accepted his ring.

Julius had hesitated. Francisco had leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as if to stop himself from reaching out to his only child.

“What’s on your mind, son?”

He told his father everything, from waking up in his hotel room to Esmerelda’s departure and everything in between. Francisco had listened. It wasn’t until Julius reached the end that he had finally spoken.

“That’s rough.”

The simple summation had made Julius laugh and broken the tension. His father hadn’t pushed, hadn’t berated or lectured him. He’d simply asked if there was anything he could do and, when Julius had responded in the negative, said he was always available if Julius needed to talk.

---