Page 7 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
‘You seem… I don’t know…a littleunnerved.’
That had to be the understatement of the century. He was more than alittleunnerved. He’d never experienced such an intense response to anyone, and he liked it as much as he knew what to make of it—in other words, not at all.
Until now, his body had always remained firmly under his control, and the fact that it seemed to be going rogue was both bewildering and concerning. It made him wonder if taking Sofia as his bride wouldn’t prove to be a colossal mistake, if she wasn’t somehow dangerous. He found himself increasingly preoccupied with why she’d agreed to marry him when everyone else he’d asked had refused. In fact, he thought about her far more than was necessary, which was frustrating as hell when work required his full focus. Even the diamond ring that adorned the third finger of her right hand and flashed at him whenever it caught the light felt like some sort of an omen.
This engagement of theirs had the potential to be far more complex than the straightforward arrangement he’d envisaged. However, it was too late to back out now. The die was cast. So he’d justhaveto regain command of himself. How hard could it be? Two years in the army had taught him self-discipline. His willpower was formidable. After all, it wasn’t as if he could simply permit the attraction to develop. No matter how much he might enjoy letting go physically—and it would certainly be a bonus to do so with the woman he was marrying—such self-indulgence was an anathema. That sort of distraction was for the weak. The reckless. And he, who had duty and responsibility embedded in his DNA, who lived, breathed and slept for his country, would allow none of it.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said, pulling himself together and forcing the tension from his body. ‘Of course I’m not unnerved. I’ve done hundreds of these things over the years.’
‘None quite like this, though.’
‘It’s uncharted territory for you too.’
‘But it’s my job.’
‘And also mine, don’t forget. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the monarchy. My country. The future. Nothing else matters.’
A flicker of emotion darted across her face but it came and went before he could even think to identify it. ‘Talking of forgetting, do you remember the plan?’ she said so coolly he figured he must have imagined it anyway.
The plan she’d first emailed yesterday afternoon and then followed up with a thirty-minute call? Of course he remembered. ‘The last royal wedding—my parents’—was thirty-eight years ago,’ he recited. ‘Times have changed. An absolute monarchy is something of a rarity these days. A throwback to the past. Aloofness and mystery no longer works. We must be open. Relatable. Relevant. Competent and diligent but at the same time anodyne and uncontroversial.’
‘Exactly. See? Simple.’
Evidently, their understanding ofsimplediffered. Ivo suspected the next hour was going to be one of the most stressful of recent years. But at least he was to have respite immediately afterwards. From here, he was travelling straight to Paris for a two-day conference on artificial intelligence—on his own for once, since Sofia was needed here. And although he had no doubt that, with effort, hewouldconquer his desire for her, and despite the fact that he preferred to confront difficulties head-on, it felt like a much-needed escape.
Swept up in a whirlwind of activity, Sofia had barely had time to breathe since her engagement to Ivo had been announced. Not everything could be delegated to her highly competent team of four. They continued to handle the day-to-day running of the department, but she was the one who had to find time for dress fittings and a trip to the Jewel House to pick up the rings and tiara she’d been assigned. Only she could sit beside him on that sofa, smile in all the right places and talk about how excited she was about the wedding and how she hoped she’d do a good job of serving King and country. His mother’s advice about the role of the Queen and managing expectations were for her ears alone, and no one else but her could pose with him for the official engagement photos.
Sofia knew when Ivo was due to return from Paris—the trip was detailed in the tightly packed schedule—but she didn’t see him until the doors onto the terrace flung open on the dot of eleven and he strode through them. He’d only been away for two days but, judging by the wave of longing that swept through her as he headed for the wisteria-clad summer house in front of which she stood while the photographer tested the lighting, it might as well have been two months.
Oh, how she’d missed him, she thought, battling back a wide smile that would be far too giddy for the occasion and perilously revealing as a result. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder.
But evidently the only heart thus affected by forty-eight hours apart was hers. Because as he approached, making short work of the immaculately mown lawn with his long purposeful strides, she noticed that his jaw was tight. His face was dark and his deep brown eyes seemed oddly flinty. Despite the warmth of the mid-morning sun, he emanated an ice-cold steeliness she’d never seen in him before, as if he were all hard planes and sharp edges, as if he were someone not to be crossed. He spared no words for the team. He had no smile for anyone. He seemed ruthlessly focused—and utterly different.
At this wholly unexpected version of a man she thought she knew inside out, Sofia’s head spun and a shiver of apprehension rippled down her spine. What could have caused such a dramatic change to his demeanour? Had the conference not gone well? Surely she would have heard.
‘Hello,’ she said, plastering her easiest, most professional smile to her face as he came to an abrupt stop in front of her and the photographer moved to a discreet distance.
‘Good morning.’
‘How are you?’
‘Fine. You?’
That was an interesting question. Actually, she was all over the place. Her body temperature was sky-high. Her heart was beating at twice its usual rate. And as if that wasn’t enough, in response to the clipped frostiness of his voice her skin was prickling and she felt a little light-headed. ‘All good,’ she said, one hundred percent certain that, despite the mess she was inside, outwardly she projected nothing but serenity. ‘And Paris?’
‘Constructive.’
‘Anything I need to be aware of?’
‘Like what?’ He fastened the button of his jacket, then reached up into the sleeves to tug down the cuffs of his shirt, an unexpectedly sexy move that would have derailed her focus if she’d let it.
‘I have no idea,’ she said, lifting her gaze from his wrists to his face, a route that took in the enticing wedge of chest revealed by the collar that was open at the neck. ‘News that needs promoting or a problem that needs handling, perhaps?’
‘If there was, you’d be the first to know.’
Right. That was true. Clearly, then, the conference wasn’t the issue. So what was? More pertinently, what did it mean? She’d never seen this side to him before. She’d never considered him…dangerous. What if he possessed other characteristics that lay hidden? What were the implications for their marriage if he wasn’t the man she believed him to be? Might she have made a mistake in accepting his proposal?
‘Sofia?’
