Page 10 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

I turn and bolt out of the room before I say something stupid. I strip out of my dress and set the mask on the marble vanity before stepping under a scalding hot spray. I lather my hands with amber-scented soap and start vigorously scrubbing.

But as my hands move over my breasts, I pause. What would it be like to have Dominic’s hands on me? To have his long fingers trace down to the tips of my breasts, his lips teasing my skin before he latches on and sucks me into his mouth?

I shouldn’t be visualizing. Except I haven’t been this turned on in…ever. I slowly cup one breast in my hand, gently tease my nipple with my thumb as my other hand travels down my stomach to my thighs. I stop, wanting so much to continue the fantasy playing out in my head.

But if Dominic is still out in the living room, I’m not sure I could face him after touching myself while imagining us in bed together.

I don’t know how long I stand there, leaning against the wall as my breath comes in quick pants. I should feel ashamed. Princesses most definitely do not touch themselves while thinking about their bodyguards.

But I don’t feel guilty. Not in the slightest. No, instead I just feel aroused and wired tight.

I turn the water to cold and brace myself. Two freezing minutes later I step out, towel-drying my hair before I grab a pale pink sweater and black leggings. I run a comb through my hair and reach for the makeup bag before I snatch my hand back like I’ve been scalded. There’s no reason to dress up for Dominic. None. He’s my bodyguard, not my lover.

Irritated, I scowl at myself in the mirror before I walk through my bedroom and back out into the living room.

The room is empty. Disappointment curls through me. But then quiet murmurs reach my ears. I follow the sound to the other side of the room and into the small study. The doors in the study are thrown open to a smaller canal that runs between this hotel and another across the way. The canal is gated at the far end, providing guests with balconies and more privacy.

Dominic is standing next to a waiter speaking in Italian. I already thought his voice was sexy, but hearing him speak in a foreign language has me pressing my thighs together.

My gaze drops down, and my eyes widen. A white wrought-iron table is set with plates of food. There are scallops topped with edible flowers and crab cakes drizzled with aioli. Creamy risotto in a steaming silver urn. Mini sandwiches that look like croque monsieur with melted cheese dripping onto the porcelain. A bowl of fat strawberries with a smaller bowl of fresh whipped cream. Bubbles circle up in a single flute of sparkling rosé.

“Wow.”

Dominic and the waiter both turn to me. Dominic has shed both his bow tie and his jacket. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, the top button of his shirt undone to reveal tanned skin and curling dark hair.

The waiter bows his head, but Dominic rakes his gaze over me from head to toe.

I freeze even as my stomach does a long, slow roll. Can he tell just by looking at me why it took me so long?

“Your Highness.” The waiter gives me a small smile. “Do you require anything else?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Thank you. Armand, right?”

The waiter’s smile grows. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, truly. This looks incredible.”

“Of course. I’m on duty until two should you require anything else, although the kitchen is open twenty-four hours a day.”

“This will be perfect.”

Dominic reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his wallet, pulling out a hundred euro bill. “Grazi.”

Armand’s eyes widen a fraction, but he merely bows again and excuses himself.

“I could have taken care of that.”

“I know.” Dominic walks over and pulls out a chair.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“You didn’t get to eat.”

Touched, I walk over and sit down. “Thank you.”

Dominic inclines his head. Our eyes meet, hold. The flickering light of the candle in the middle of the table casts shadows over his face, maintaining his mysterious allure even though he’s no longer wearing the mask. “Good night, Princess.”

I frown as he turns toward the door. “You’re not leaving, are you?”