Page 195 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

This man, who was using her as a tool, like everyone else had.

“I would never bring children into a marriage like this,” she whispered, and her voice was far too breathy.

His eyes flashed with anger that turned the heat into something more volatile. “But you would have with my brother?”

This last thought was enough to break the spell. Oh, how she wanted to throw the truth back at him—that she was never going to marry Edvin. But she couldn’t expose her escape plan like that. Not if she wanted to salvage any part of it.

Livia pulled away, and Gustav had the nerve to laugh. “We will have plenty of time to negotiate the boundaries of this marriage during our honeymoon.”

“Assuming I go through with it,” she bit out.

“You always claimed you wanted to run away and leave this world behind. Now is your chance,” he said in that smug tone that suggested he knew she wouldn’t run.

Livia didn’t know what was more infuriating—that he was taunting her with the dream he was taking away or the fact that he was right. This was her opportunity to run, but running meant leaving her sister behind. The last time she had, when she had moved away for university and left Adele to face her tormenters alone, the consequences had been disastrous.

In that moment, reality sunk in. She was going to marry Gustav today. She would sacrifice herself for her sister’s freedom. Just as disconcerting was the part of her that looked forward to that sacrifice, despite the ominous undertones that echoed from every new layer of his twisted plan. She had to get her emotions under control. They were literally speeding toward a royal wedding that was never supposed to happen, and she needed to salvage some semblance of her plan with Adele. She needed to negotiate with him. Carefully.

“I have a condition—one thing I need for this marriage deal to work. I have a retreat on a remote Greek island, one that my father does not know about and does not control,” she said, hoping he would hear this as a confession, not a sleight of hand. To secure her goal without revealing exactly what was at stake. “I would like this property to remain as mine alone, to stay in as I choose. Alone. I will not neglect any official duties, but I require this place to remain in my private control.”

“Do you have a lover?” His voice was hard and flat.

She almost laughed in surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He glared at her, letting her know he absolutely was not kidding.

“Would your father let me marry Edvin if anyone found a whiff of infidelity? The press would be all over it.”

“That’s not a denial,” he muttered.

“This has nothing to do with another man,” she said as frustration built inside her. “You know this isn’t the life I wanted for myself. You know I never wanted to be a royal.”

His mouth was a grim, flat line. “I don’t know the first thing about you, as your connection to my brother clearly underscores.”

Livia ignored the sting of his accusation. “Can’t you see a place of my own is my compromise?”

Her voice was somewhere between exasperation and plea. If he heard either, he didn’t react. The only sound was the quiet hum of the motor and the shush of waves against the hull of the boat as he studied her, this time in cool assessment. Her heart thumped in her chest as his gaze seemed to penetrate her, finding its way far too deep inside her.

“You may have the house,” he finally said.

“Can you get the king to put this in writing without tipping off my father?”

His smile was as dark as it was satisfied. “I will make sure it’s in writing. I find it hard to trust anyone—wouldn’t you agree?”

Back in the castle, she hadn’t been able to hold back her surprise that her father had already discussed a backup plan—an alternate marriage with Gustav—without consulting her. Now not only was her own escape plan closed to her, but Gustav was proving her description as a pawn to be far too accurate. Livia waited for another kick of anger, but it was almost completely muted by hurt.

But that wasn’t the only source of hurt.

“You went behind my back,” she said. “You arranged our marriage without even talking to me.”

“What evidence did I have that you wouldn’t turn on me? Trust must be earned, älskling.”

That last word came out with a cruel irony to it.

Älskling. Darling.

Livia wished she had tuned out this particular part of her Swedish tutor’s lesson.

“That trust goes both ways,” she snapped.