Page 5 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
But it wouldn’t do to throw cautioncompletelyto the wind before diving in headfirst. This partnership couldn’t just be about whathedeemed important. Thanks to her parents’ tumultuous relationship she had her own list of requirements, designed to guard a heart that was all too easily broken. The risk of that happening seemed even greater when he did not feel the same way about her as she did about him. Therefore, she had to take extra care to protect herself—and any offspring they might produce, because no child of hers wouldeversuffer the way she had.
‘You’re asking me to give up my freedom,’ she said, channelling a cool sort of thoughtfulness, as if her pulse wasn’t thundering and her emotions weren’t whipping around inside her like a tornado.
He nodded. ‘Some of it, yes.’
‘My life would never be the same again.’
‘That’s true,’ he agreed. ‘But it could be better.’
Yes, well, she’d do everything in her power to make it so, starting with giving herself a fighting chance of levelling the playing field. ‘I’d need some things in return.’
His jaw lost its rigidity and a spark of triumphant relief lit the depths of his mesmerising eyes. ‘Such as?’
‘Fidelity.’
‘You’d have it.’
‘Communication.’
‘Not a problem.’
‘Conflict must be avoided at all costs. I’m not a fan of arguing. Any disagreements will be dealt with in a civilised fashion, and in private. Always.’
‘Agreed.’
Good.
Right.
So what next?
There was more she should demand. Sofia was sure of it. The devil was always in the detail. But she was damned if she could think of anything else. The sheer force of her emotions was obliterating the contents of her brain. And so this was it. The moment she either stepped back from the cliff edge or threw herself into the void. The moment she had to choose between the security blanket of the known and the wild unpredictability of the unknown.
In the deafening silence that had fallen, the voice of reason implored her to see sense. If they married and it all went wrong, she could get badly hurt and there’d be no escape. The constitution prohibited divorce so she’d be tied to him and misery until her dying breath, and she knew from experience how devastating the fallout of that could be.
But despite her very real concerns, reason didn’t stand a chance against the thrilling possibility that on the other hand, if she took the risk, she would havehim. A family. A calm, steady, grown-up relationship, free from the selfish passion and explosive chaos that would eventually destroy it.
How on earth could she give that up?
She couldn’t.
And it wasn’t as if she’d be going into this with her eyes closed. Ivo could not have been clearer about what their marriage would and wouldn’t involve. However much she might yearn for his love there was no guarantee she’d have it. She had to accept that being by his side to enable him to continue to do his duty might have to be enough. Her head would have to rule her heart. She must never forget that this was all about convenience and fall into the trap of believing it was real. She must never want more than what he offered.
At least she was used to being put second. For nineteen years her parents had prioritised their corrosive relationship over the emotional needs of their child. She’d cared too much, they’d broken her heart and she’d sworn it would never happen again. As long as she kept her position in the hierarchy at the forefront of her mind at all times and kept a firm lid on her feelings, she could do it. She knew she could.
‘All right, then,’ she said, nevertheless hoping to God that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life, that she was opening herself up to the bright shiny future she’d dreamed of and not decades of heartbreak, trauma and despair. ‘For the sake of the monarchy, I accept.’
CHAPTER THREE
IVO DIDN’T MUCHcare for whose sake Sofia had agreed to marry him. The point was, she had, and the problem that had been causing him such grief had instantly gone away—at exceptionally little cost.
Fidelity posed no problem. He’d never screwed around. His experience with Carolina, the Countess of Vila Real a decade ago had made him wary and mistrustful and as a result, his liaisons were infrequent and casual and ultimately, inconsequential. He enjoyed sex as much as the next man, but it didn’t—and never would—govern his life. Such distraction was unthinkable. The possibility of it developing into something deeper, something that might render him powerless, exposed and open to exploitation once again was to be avoided like the plague.
Nor did he foresee trouble with communication, which was, after all, the basis of their working relationship and would, he imagined, naturally transfer to their marriage. It hadn’t caused an issue before, and he saw no reason why it should now. And when it came to conflict, they were both so even-keeled and emotionally restrained he couldn’t envisage either of them losing control even if such a situation did arise. The very thought of it was laughable.
The press had leapt on the announcement like a pack of rabid wolves, of course. Ever since the news had been released a week ago, the story had dominated the headlines. No one could be under any illusion that theirs was anything other than a marriage of convenience, but the interest in Sofia was nevertheless rampant.
Within the palace walls, his choice of bride was considered excellently pragmatic. Beyond them, ridiculous notions of a highly unlikely romance swirled. The fact that she’d worked for him this past year had escaped no one’s notice. According to some, it must have been a thrilling slow-burn affair. For others, a last-minutecoup de foudremust have struck. His people appeared to have collectively turned to sentimental mush, and he could only hope the affliction was temporary.
