Page 92 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

Silence followed. She forced herself to lean back in her chair, to focus on the crystal-clear waters of the pool, the ocean just beyond.

“Tell me why my reassignment of you hurt so much. Please,” he added with the hint of a smile as she arched one brow.

The obvious answer, that she had fallen in love with and slept with her boss, wouldn’t do. Yet as she turned his question over in her mind, she analyzed it in a way she hadn’t before.

“I was embarrassed.” Truth added a rawness to her voice that made her clear her throat. “My father is the head of palace security. He lives for his work. Always has. I had considered going to the States for graduate studies after I got my degree. Something around law or political science. He suggested I go through the academy.” Over two decades of pain rose up and wrapped around her heart like a vise. “It was the first time he had shown interest in what I did. So I did what he suggested. I was out in six months, completed another three months of advanced training at the commandant’s recommendation. Assigned to general palace security for six months when I graduated, and then your detail the following year.”

“Your father must have been proud.”

She shrugged to mask the hurt. “As much as he was capable of being. Still, I grasped onto the crumbs of his approval like it was a lifeline. And...” She could feel the blush rising up her throat, that damned telltale hotness that made her feel transparent, vulnerable. “Others were more impressed. Each compliment, each commendation, made me feel whole for the first time in my life. When I was promoted to your detail a few months before my twenty-fifth birthday, for the first time in my life my father said ‘well done.’”

“I took that away from you.”

A warm hand settled on top of hers. Startled, she turned to look at him. She’d glimpsed occasional flickers of kindness in Julius. But the understanding on this man’s face, so familiar yet so different, from the compassion in his gaze to the regret that pulled at the corners of his mouth, touched her in a way she wasn’t ready for.

“Yes.” She pulled her hand back. Did she imagine the hurt that flashed in his eyes before he settled back in his chair? “That’s what it felt like. I didn’t have any warning.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “How can you be sorry for something you don’t even remember?”

He looked out over the ocean, a small frown forming between his brows.

“I do remember it. Some of it at least.”

Panic skittered down her spine.

“Oh?”

“Your face. You looked heartbroken.” He looked back at her then. “And I put that there. That pain in your eyes. After you swore to protect me with your life.”

Guilt settled on her shoulders, heavy and clawing. She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t know if it was the right thing to tell him so soon after the onset of his amnesia.

“I was angry. And hurt. But it was within your right to reassign me.”

“Not if it made you hurt, Esmerelda.”

The way her name rolled off his tongue made a shiver pass over her skin. Not ready to confront the desire that still lingered in her veins.

“I appreciate the apology, sir. I will get over it.”

“I suspect you’re a woman who rises to the occasion or surpasses it more often than not. But tell me,” he said, leaning forward, filling up her vision and her senses with his closeness, “how often do you make that journey alone?”

His voice filled her, winding through her and warming her blood.

Her phone dinged. Grateful for the reprieve from diving any deeper into her past, she pulled it out of the pocket of her robe. She muttered a curse as she read the text.

“Something wrong?”

“I emailed a friend at Scotland Yard to ask about any reports of muggings or assaults near the hotel you were staying at.” She sighed. “Nothing.”

“The doctor said it looked like a blow from a blunt object.”

She frowned. “When did you see a doctor?”

“A doctor from one of the resorts in St. George’s came by last night.” Julius’s fingers wandered to the back of his neck, crept up to rest lightly on the wound. “No evidence of any lingering concussion, although I do have an appointment this afternoon for some scans.”

“And the memory loss?”

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