Page 35 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

“Yes.”

Out of the corners of my eyes, I can see the crowds of people milling around, watching our photoshoot. Dozens of eyes trained on us. Some are happy for their princess. Some are excited about a royal wedding. But I see the narrow-eyed gazes, the alertness of others as they watch, analyze. Just like the early years when I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could barely move without my parents watching, criticizing, yelling. Just like that year in foster care when my life was controlled by people who masked abuse as doing good.

Yet another reason why I took on the short-term assignments for Hawke Security, even as we grew and contracted longer jobs for high-profile clients. Far less attention is paid to a bodyguard who shows up for one night or a few days compared to one consistently at the side of the latest movie star, singer or politician.

“I’m used to blending in, not being the center of attention.”

“We can stop.”

I shake my head slightly. “I made a commitment.”

She tenses in my arms before slowly relaxing. I mentally curse. She doesn’t like this kind of attention either.

I place a hand on her waist and turn her toward me. My fingers brush her stomach, tense for a moment. Her eyes widen as my hand slides down to her hip and I pull her close so I don’t inadvertently give away our secret.

I never once thought about what it would be like to have kids. But as the days pass and reality sinks in, it’s becoming easier to imagine her stomach round, a baby fluttering beneath my hand. And I’ll do anything I can to protect it.

Sophaya gazes up at me. Slowly, her face softens, her lips curving into a knowing smile. I saw the way her hand moved to her stomach when she first told me, how her fingers rested on her belly when I walked into the family room that first day. She feels it, too.

The cameras click.

“That’s perfect, Your Highnesses,” one of the photographers says excitedly. “Keep looking at each other like that.”

Sophaya blinks, like she’s coming out of a dream. We stare at each other, the warmth of our moment gone as we hold onto each other. Her body is pressed against me, her hands looped around my neck.

But her arms are tense, her jaw tight. My body is coiled, my senses on alert as we force ourselves to stand still while the cameras click on.

Chapter Twelve

Sophaya

I walk out of my room and nearly slam into six feet four of tall, muscled man.

“Oh.” I step back and crane my neck back to look up at my fiancé. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Dominic’s deep voice wraps around me. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are warm, his face relaxed. After the tension of our engagement photos a few days ago, we’ve both kept our distance. It was hard having that moment of mutual happiness, only to be reminded our every move is being analyzed. The only reason we came together in Venice was because we were out of the spotlight.

We have chemistry. A child. But I don’t know if it’s possible for us to recapture the magic that happened that night.

I shake off my melancholy and glance down at my watch. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I have an engagement.”

“At the Hospital of Her Majesty Villaluz.”

I frown. “Yes. How’d you know?”

One dark eyebrow arches up. “For all his faults, Enrique is very detail-oriented. I receive both yours and my itinerary every night.”

I press my lips together. “I didn’t get to know him well, but I do recall him having four sisters, including one who is a wedding planner in Italy.”

His mouth quirks slightly. “Of course you do.”

“He’s nice. And efficient.”

“That’s one way to describe him.”

I hesitate. Part of me wants to invite Dominic along, to show him the hospital that provided such incredible care to my grandparents and started my passion for healthcare. But another part of me remembers the barely constrained frustration during our engagement shoot, the suppressed irritation as he’s dragged through meeting after meeting.