Page 144 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

But none of the people he’d negotiated with in the past had been anything like Rosalind.

Had he been foolish to think he could put his wife’s demands in the same box as a corporate negotiation? To putherin the same box as he might a professional adversary? While he was a titan of the business world, he knew nothing about personal relationships—not beyond the physical—and what Rosalind was trying to do was build a relationship of sorts with him.

It was everything he’d been running from his whole adult life.

Relating with someone. Getting to know them. Playing the long game. Being in one another’s lives, no matter what. Just the idea of that made Sebastian’s throat feel as though it was constricting; he could hardly breathe. The idea of letting this happen with Rosalind—of coming to enjoy spending time with her, to even like sparring with her—turned his blood cold.

Sebastian jerked to standing, striding towards the embers with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. As he’d expected, the water had begun to lap the far side of what had been their bonfire, turning orange to black with a frothy whisper. The moon hit the dark ocean, highlighting the peaks of the waves. His eyes chased the milky shadow for a moment, and then he sighed, admitting to himself that he was as out of his depth as if he’d chased that moonlight all the way out into the middle of the Ionian Sea.

But what could he do?

Quit?

Admit defeat and leave?

Admit he was afraid of what this could be, if he let it, and run far away?

Every cell in his body fought against that. He was not a quitter, and he’d never wanted—or needed—anything as much as he did this baby.

He didn’t trust the king, and he didn’t know if he trusted his wife. At least, he didn’t trust her not to fall in with whatever the king demanded, no matter what she personally thought. Her loyalty to the old man was akin to brainwashing—she might want to build a relationship with Sebastian, but it would never withstand her unwavering faith in the king, when the king was singlehandedly responsible for having destroyed Maria’s life, and removing Sebastian from the country that ran in his blood.

And yet despite his love for Cavalonia and his certainty that ruling it was his birthright, his position remained tenuous. Marriage to Rosalind had engendered some goodwill from the people, but he needed this baby to guarantee his position—and to know that his child would enjoy their birthright. When he was king, Sebastian would ensure it was written into legislation: no man would ever be able to take such rights away from what should be theirs indisputably.

There was very little choice then but to stick to his plan.

She’d wanted them to get to know each other, and they were. Only he’d never intended to reveal so much about himself to her. Seduction, yes. But why did it bother him so much that she didn’t understand why he hated his grandfather? Why did he want to explain how awful it had been, as a young boy, to feel as though he’d done something wrong, that his grandfather and father had refused to see him again? Why couldn’t she understand how that had shaped him?

Why did he need her to? Why did he want her to not only understand him but also to approve of him?

Sebastian had never wanted to bare his soul to a woman he’d been sleeping with. He hadn’t needed anyone else to agree with him that he’d been treated badly. So, why did he want Rosie to be on his side, in his corner?

It drove him wild; he had to get a grip. There was no advantage in fighting with Rosalind, and she would never see things his way. She had married him at the king’s behest—she was loyal to him, not Sebastian. And so what? He didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone.

But fighting was to be avoided, for the simple reason it might reduce the likelihood of Rosalind agreeing to fall pregnant with his heir. It was up to Sebastian to keep a level head from now on, to avoid conversations that were incendiary, and he could think of one simple way to do that: he would ask about Rosalind. He would ask all the questions, direct the conversation, and at the first sign of her wanting to discuss the king, he’d divert their discussion elsewhere. He would regain control of this situation and any wayward thoughts and wants that might creep in...

With renewed determination, he took a few paces back towards the house, scooped up the blanket they’d been sitting on and set his sights on what he hoped to achieve this week. A baby was all that mattered.

Knots had formed in Rosie’s stomach overnight. She’d slept badly, frustrated by their argument, replaying it, wondering what she could do to fix things between the king and his grandson, wondering if it was her place, and what good could come from her trying?

But shehad totry.

Because she loved the king and she... Rosie frowned. She, what? She didn’t love Sebastian. Far from it! But she hated to see anyone in the kind of turmoil he was clearly in, and over something that had happened so long ago.

In the early light of the new day, she pushed out of bed, ignoring the pang in her chest at the other side of the bed, which was empty—they’d shared his room the night before, but Rosie hadn’t felt right presuming to go to sleep there.

Was it really the case that this family rift was ancient history? It was easy for Rosie to say that, given that the argument had happened so long ago. But hadn’t it kept happening? With Maria in exile, and Sebastian separated from the country he’d only known as a young boy? Hadn’t it kept happening every day he felt estranged from his culture, his people, saw his mother grieving, felt her pain at the rejection from her own father?

She hadn’t been prepared to see this side of him, to see beyond the veil of his arrogance to what motivated it. The ruthless need to succeed in all things was clearly motivated by the pain he’d endured. How could she know that, as she did now, and not feel differently about him?

Rosie toyed with her fingers, frustrated in a way she couldn’t explain, and padded softly out of the bedroom in search of a cup of coffee. In the kitchen, she flicked on only the small light in the range hood, not wanting to wake Sebastian, and set about making a coffee as quietly as she could.

So it wasn’t as simple as relegating their argument to the past.

Even the king, she was sure, had felt the echoes of his decision, long past having made it. Once he’d even called Rosie ‘Maria’, then closed his eyes as if it was the worst thing he could have said. She didn’t look at all like the former princess, which just showed how much Maria had been on the king’s mind, even then.

Why couldn’t they work out a way past this?

They’d lost so much time because of those decisions, but now Maria and Sebastian were back, and there was the opportunity to come together once more as a real family. To start the healing process, before it was too late.

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