Page 22 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

At a quarter to eight, I bid my brothers good night, ignoring their questioning looks as I take the elevator down and walk out onto 40th Street. A quick jog to Times Square gets me to a subway station. Twenty minutes later, I walk out onto 72nd Street and its old-world glamour, from prewar luxury apartments with ornate stonework to tree-lined sidewalks and doormen standing guard, brass buttons gleaming in the dim light.

The kind of world Sophaya was raised in while I scrounged on the streets and stole to survive.

I walk through the gold revolving door of the Carlyle. After checking in at the front desk, I’m issued a private key card that grants me access to the twenty-sixth floor where the hotel’s most expensive rooms are located, including the Presidential Suite.

I step off the elevator into a private, secure hallway. The door to Sophaya’s suite gleams under the golden lights, polished mahogany with a brass name plate.

My chest tightens. I raise my hand and knock. Footsteps sound on the other side of the door a moment before it swings open.

I didn’t expect Sophaya to answer it herself. Nor did I anticipate her looking so damned beautiful.

It’s like the memories of her are faded, a pale comparison to the woman in front of me. Her dark hair is pulled into a high bun. Wisps of hair frame her face. Her eyes look impossibly blue, the color even more enhanced by the periwinkle dress she’s wearing. Voluminous sleeves stop at her elbows, and a billowing skirt flares out from her waist.

A simple, elegant dress. There’s nothing sexy about it. But my cock doesn’t care. Thankfully she’s looking at my face and not below my waist.

Something flashes in her eyes. Sadness, maybe, or a hint of vulnerability? But it’s gone before I can place it, replaced with that royal iciness she displayed for most of our time together. “Hello, Mr. Hawke.”

Two months ago I was buried to the hilt inside her. But if she wants to play things like this, fine.

I incline my head to her. “Your Highness.”

She steps back and gestures for me to enter. I glance over my shoulder as she turns to close the door and bite back a groan. The back of the dress stops just beneath her shoulder blades, the material covering her shoulders joined by thin straps tied into a bow below her neck. I remember the feel of her back, the delicate curve, the seductive heat of her skin.

Maybe Cassian was right. Maybe I do just need to go out with someone. Not even take them to bed, but just enjoy another woman’s company over drinks or dinner. Think about someone other than Princess Sophaya de Marivela for a few hours.

“Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you,” I reply as I follow her into the sitting area. Earth-toned furniture is arranged around a glass coffee table. Violet-colored hydrangeas spill out of a vase. Behind the dove-gray sofa are floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of Central Park and Billionaires’ Row in the distance where Aiden and Seraphina live.

Sophaya stands off to the side, her fingers threaded together. Her lips are pressed together in a thin line, her shoulders tense.

Unease pricks the back of my neck. “You said this was about a professional matter?”

Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. “Yes.”

“Is it something in Siravelle?” Fear strikes, shocking and quick. “Another stalker?”

She shakes her head. “No, nothing like that.” She squeezes her hands together, then lets go. One hand drifts to her stomach.

Just like that, it hits me. I know what she’s going to say before she opens her mouth.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Nine

Sophaya

Dominic stares at me in silence. I’ve never seen him dressed so casually, but the black jeans, white shirt and leather jacket work, feeding into the bad boy image I first envisioned when I learned an ex-Army Ranger would be my private bodyguard for the foreseeable future.

My heart is thundering so hard I’m not even sure I’d hear if he said anything right now. But his lips haven’t moved. He hasn’t moved at all, not even so much as a blink. Did he hear me? Is he in shock?

Finally, his chest rises on the slightest of inhales. “I see.”

I return his stare for a shocked moment. Fury rises up inside me as seconds pass without another word.

This is the final confirmation I needed. The last bit of proof I needed that the plan I made back in Siravelle is the right one, for me, my child and my country.

Gathering strength, drawing on my shock and my anger and, yes, a small stab of hurt, I raise my chin and strive for calmness. “I’m afraid I bear the responsibility for this. My doctor informed me the herbal supplement I was taking to help me sleep while touring Europe can cause interference with the birth control pill.”