Page 35 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
Suddenly, the cushions felt like knives. His shirt was as tight as a vice. He jumped to his feet, strode to the window and resisted the urge to pace. ‘Other than the roles we perform as King and Queen, thereisno me and Sofia,’ he said, ruthlessly ignoring the denial that surged through him.
‘That’s the trouble,’ said his mother. ‘She’s having your heir. She needs you. Meanwhile, you’re doing your best to avoid her, which is not what I would expect of you when such behaviour is the opposite of honourable. And then there’s the job. You’re operating at 50 percent. You’re making mistakes. You’re getting away with it at the moment, but for how much longer?’
‘It’s a temporary affliction,’ he muttered, not needing to be reminded of how badly he was in danger of failing at everything.
‘Is it?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Did you know she’s in love with you?’
The memory of her admitting how she felt slammed into his head and for a moment his lungs seized. He forced out a breath and cleared his throat. ‘She did mention it, yes.’
‘I warned her about the pitfalls of hopeless expectations, but she clearly paid no attention.’
Right. Enough. He was fed up with his. He couldn’t handle being slammed with any more home truths and he didn’t have time for any more crypticity. Needing to clear up yet another thing that had been driving him nuts, he whipped round to face his mother and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Talking of hopeless expectations,’ he said, locking his eyes on hers so as not to miss a thing. ‘I understand you had a few back in the day…’
His mother considered him for a moment before saying, ‘Yes, I was in love with your father, more fool me.’
As Sofia had maintained. The floor beneath his feet seemed to shake and crack. He set his jaw. ‘Why?’
‘What do you mean, why?’
Was steam coming out of his ears? It certainly felt as though it was. ‘That’s not what we do.’
Elenor looked at him with disconcerting shrewdness. ‘You could if you wanted to,’ she said. ‘As could he. But he was frustratingly stubborn. He refused to acknowledge how I felt. He refused to give us a chance.’ She sighed and a flicker of grief and regret darted across her face. ‘But I wish he had, because we could have shared the huge demands he faced. He might not have had that stress-induced heart attack. Because of the actions ofhisfather, he saw emotion of any kind as a weakness instead of the strength it can be, and I know he taught you to believe that a marriage of convenience was the only option open to you. But it’s not too late. You’re in love with Sofia. There’s no point denying it,’ she said, holding up a staying hand when he opened his mouth to issue an objection. ‘I watched the footage of you on tour. I read the articles and saw the photos. With love like that you could take on the world. Do not make the same mistake your father did, darling. I really couldn’t bear it.’
His mother rose from her chair, gave his arm a squeeze and left Ivo standing there, his head spinning with all the unnerving observations she’d made, which he turned upside down and inside out, until he all he was left with was the blinding realisation that ofcoursehe was in love with Sofia. He probably had been for months, ever since the day she’d started working for him. He’d come to depend on her more than he’d realised. He’d looked forward to their daily meetings. He’d enjoyed her no-nonsense approach and the fact that she’d never been intimidated by him. Pretty much every rash, out of character thing he’d done since deciding to make her his queen, his wife,his, proved he was crazy about her.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was that he didn’twantto feel any of those things. He feared the sort of distraction and disruption that could bring down the institution he’d devoted his life to. He dreaded handing over his heart only for it to be decimated. Once was quite enough, and with the benefit of hindsight he could see that he hadn’t even been in love with Carolina. Sofia, though… She’d be able to do irreparable damage.
But then, whywouldshe decimate his heart? She loved him enough to marry him even though he’d told her he’d never return her feelings. She loved him enough to sacrifice life as she’d known it for the crown. For him. The last ten days of the tour, she’d shown him in a thousand different ways how she felt about him, and he’d welcomed every single one of them without thought. By demanding answers from him the night she’d cornered him in his study, she’d risen above her abhorrence of confrontation to fight for what she wanted. She had more courage in her little finger than he did in his entire body.
Meanwhile, what washedoing?
Wallowing in hang-ups a decade old.
Using the excuse of the monarchy to protect the heart that was softer that he’d ever wanted to acknowledge.
But no more.
Heavy was the head that wore the crown, and he was done with putting himself last, with sacrificing the desires that weren’t unreasonable and suppressing his feelings. He wanted Sofia’s love. He wanted her loyalty and support, not for the sake of the monarchy, but for himself. He wanted every wild emotion she had to give him and to return them in spades. If he had anything to do with it, she’d never feel lonely again. She wouldn’t spend the next fifty, sixty, seventy years yearning for something out of reach, as his mother had.
He could not contemplate heading for an early grave through stubbornness. He had to accept that, although his father had been an icon whose legacy he—Ivo—had worked so tirelessly to defend and grow, he had also had flaws. He wasn’t a saint. Nor was his grandfather a sinner. He’d been a man in love.
And then there was his heir, which he wasthrilledabout, not just because the line of succession would be assured, but because they were creating a family. His mother had been right yet again. He shouldn’t be avoiding her. He should be looking after her. Could babies hear in the womb? He’d read somewhere they did. His stood to inherit a kingdom. There was a lot to pass on and he ought to be doing precisely that, even at this early stage.
Filled with purpose, vowing not to stop until he’d fixed the mess he’d made of things and fervently hoping it wasn’t too late, Ivo strode into his study. He scooped up the rings that had sat there so accusingly, a blistering reminder of what he cast aside through stupidity and fear, and then stormed into her office.
‘Where is the Queen?’ he demanded, glaring at each of the four stunned functionaries in turn.
‘I—I believe she’s gone, sir,’ stammered her usually unflappable private secretary.
What the hell?
‘Gone?’ he echoed, feeling as though his head was about to explode. ‘Gone where?’
