Page 91 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘You know I do.’

‘Because I know you. Anyway, let’s give him something to think about.’

‘I don’t think he thinks about me at all.’

Cilla grabbed her phone and held it out. She hesitated then plucked Ana’s cocktail umbrella from her drink and put it behind Ana’s ear.

‘Rubbish. He might not be worthy of you, but he’ll be looking. How could henot? Being awesome is always the best revenge. Now, get that drink in frame and smile like you gleefully burned your last bridge.’

Ana burst out laughing as Cilla took the shot and then showed it to her. It appeared to be a moment of joy, and maybe one that proved she was going to be okay, broken heart and all.

‘What are you going to do with it?’

‘I’m sending a copy to you, then posting this to my social media, because you look hot in that bikini, and that’s what sisters are for. Messages need to be delivered.’

Cilla had become a bit of a darling of social media since her arrival in Isolobello, now granted administrator privileges over the Santori royal accounts. An adoring public constantly tried to guess which posts were written by Cilla, and which ones were courtesy of the family’s official social media manager. This shot would likely cause another flurry of interest.

Ana thought she looked like a woman who’d just lost the love of her life, but Cilla had told her earlier, ‘Put on some sunglasses and lip-gloss and suck it up, Princess.’ So at least she had a little colour to her, though the bikini did make her feel bold. It was the first thing she’d bought for herself on coming to Isolobello, almost a shout to the universe:just you watch me now. Before she’d collapsed in floods of tears, weeping on her sister’s shoulder.

Cilla held up the final photo for her to see. ‘Okay?’

The shot had been cropped so the scars on her arm didn’t show, though that hardly mattered any more. Ana knew now they weren’t a measure of her worth—just another thing to thank Aston for...

‘Go for it,’ Ana said, finishing her drink and putting the glass on a side table.

‘Done!’ Cilla looked so blissfully happy, full of joy. Ana hoped one day that she could find the same for herself. It had been so hard, thinking she had and then having it fall apart and crush her like an avalanche. If only she could see the world through rose-tinted glasses again. That view had been so beautiful, so full of hope.

But loving Aston Lane had been a fool’s errand. Like trying to tame the winter winds, or hold back spring meltwater with nothing more than one’s hands as it rushed down the mountains. That love would eternally have slipped through her fingers as she’d tried to hold on tighter.

Anyhow, he didn’t want to fall in love. He was truly like the god Bacchus at the Spring Ball, which seemed so long ago now. Whilst he might intoxicate her, he’d always remain free.

‘Excellent!’ Ana said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Now let’s talk about these wedding preparations.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘One hundred percent.’

It was a masochistic kind of distraction, Cilla chatting about her dress, about Ana’s. About the pomp and ceremony that would overtake Isolobello on the day. About the joy it would bring this island country—the Santori family’s beloved heir marrying Halrovia’s youngest princess. Ana tried to let Cilla’s happiness fill her empty heart with talk of flowers, carriages and the fairy tale, when all Ana felt was somehow small and broken.

There was a gentle knock on the door leading into the palace and courtier walked onto the terrace.

‘Your Highnesses.’

He bowed, walked to Cilla and murmured in her ear, then stood back, as if waiting for instructions. Cilla frowned.

‘Problem?’ Ana asked.

Cilla’s eyebrows raised. ‘It seems Mr Lane is at the palace and has asked to see you.’

Ana’s stomach churned with the ferocity of the waves hitting the rocky cliffs below them.

‘I can send him away,’ Cilla added in a rush. ‘Just say the word and he’ll be gone. You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to.’

Yet that would be putting off the inevitable, the coward’s way, and she didn’t want to fear anything ever again. Ana took a deep breath. Her whole problem was that being here with Cilla was safe and familiar. In many ways, she’d reformed and burst out in a new skin, yet she still didn’t really know who Princess Anastacia was. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever discover her, hiding away.

That thought had her rising from the chair. She had desires. She had needs. She hadchoices. She just needed to move forward, and confronting Aston was the first step towards closure.

‘I’ll see him.’ Ana looked down at what she wore, at the bikini top, matching sarong wrap-tied low on her waist. She wasn’t dressed to receive visitors, particularly not Aston Lane. ‘But I should probably...’

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