Page 69 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘You also wanted to know if I could keep you safe. I want to ensure that you feel you are, always.’

She paused at that, at their conversation last night. She had things to say, things she’d so far avoided. Ana smoothed the fabric of her dress. ‘You haven’t asked any more about my scars.’

Aston picked up his coffee and drained the cup. He set it carefully down on the saucer.

‘You said no. I stopped asking. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Everyone’s entitled to their secrets, Ana.’

She shivered at the way he said her name, softly, deliberately, as if she was special. ‘As easy as that?’

How could it be, when everything in her life lately had been so hard? She didn’t trust anything sold to her as simple.

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

She had no response. It was as though he really cared, when no one bar Cilla had before. She didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ didn’t seem enough.

‘Pardon, Monsieur Lane.’

‘Excuse me,’ he said to Ana, before turning his attention to over her shoulder. ‘Oui, Ricci?’

‘I have your head vintner on the phone.’

Aston’s expression became pained. ‘I’m sorry. I need to take this. He usually only contacts me when my mother’s been unreasonable.’

‘Of course.’

‘We’ll take this conversation up later if you like. In the meantime, have you eaten anything?’

‘I...’ She hadn’t wanted much before but, now he’d mentioned food, her stomach grumbled noisily again. ‘No. I wasn’t hungry earlier.’

‘Ricci, please ask Chef to prepare something for Her Highness to eat.’ He pinned Ana with his intense gaze once more. She felt like a butterfly skewered by some ardent collector. ‘I want to ensure her stay onReine de Maréesgives her everything she desires.’

CHAPTER SIX

ASTONSATWITHAna at his favourite Paris café, drinking coffee after eating a late lunch. They’d taken a spot on the pavement under some umbrellas, allowing Ana to people-watch, which she appeared to enjoy. Usually he didn’t have time to simply sit, but today he hoped it would be another beginning of sorts.

‘No’ is a complete sentence, Mr Lane.

He’d taken care in the few days since leaving the yacht not to press Ana, accepting the firm boundary she’d put between them. The ‘Mr Lane’ had stung in surprising ways, as it hadn’t been said with flirtation, but he knew what she’d been doing—protecting herself—so he’d kept any conversations between them neutral. Talk about where she might like an office, were she to set one up—in his apartment or Girard’s Paris headquarters. Nothing difficult to answer because there was more to the story behind the scar on her temple, her fear.

He could work on her fears once she trusted him a little.

Building that had started when they’d made landfall. She’d blushed as he’d handed her a credit card in her name, but it gave her freedom. He wanted to show her a possible future, not dwell too much on the past.

‘I hope I look suitable for whatever outing this is. You’ve been very mysterious,’ she said, smoothing her hands over the skirt of a demure, pale-grey suit. It had three-quarter sleeves that he had little doubt hid more scars. He ached inside at the way the accident seemed to have changed her from the confident, sensual young woman he’d first met, to someone filled with uncertainty.

‘Business wear’ was all he’d told her, and he was wearing a suit himself. He’d wanted this to be a surprise, one he hoped would be a breakthrough between them.

He smiled. ‘You look perfect.’

Yesterday he’d sent Ana with his secretary and security to do some shopping, whilst he’d worked and trained in his home gym. She’d come home with a few packages, fewer than he might have liked, but she looked pleased. Had she bought the suit then? He liked to think that she might have. She’d been a little mysterious about what she’d purchased but he’d been telling the truth when he’d said everyone was entitled to their secrets. He hoped she’d tell him hers in time.

Something about her was still wary, hesitant. He knew what she needed—an unmistakeable commitment. He’d realised now why her hair had changed, why she covered herself. Why she might want to hide the scar on her temple she refused to talk about, and others that he suspected her body bore. To him, it hadn’t changed her desirability. He simply had to show her.

‘I’m still curious about whether you’ve had any other Australian fauna mishaps.’

He chuckled. ‘Nothing, other than walking into a large spider’s web at night. That wasn’t pleasant.’

She shuddered. ‘No, I’m guessing not. I’m a bit disappointed you don’t have other stories.’

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