Page 10 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8

CHAPTER SIX

Royal Tour in Trouble?

Less than forty-eight hours after an unnecessarily lavish event, which cost the country millions that would have been better spent elsewhere, it looks as though the honeymoon is over for King Ivo and his brand-new consort, Queen Sofia.

Tension was high during today’s visit to Livigno, where Their Majesties were treated to a spectacular show in the town square involving towering human pyramids and death-defying acrobatics.

Despite bestowing many a smile upon those who had gathered to hand them flowers and wish them well, they had none for each other.

Barely even able to look at one another, the impression they gave was one of newly wedded blues rather than newly wedded bliss.

Is this fair to anyone? Is there really a place for an absolute monarchy in today’s world?

To paraphrase Winston Churchill, democracy is the worst form of government but it’s the best there is, and we, the citizens of Montemare, deserve the best. So isn’t it time to lay this antiquated, out-of-touch institution to rest once and for all?

O N BOARD THE Royal Train as it meandered south among the towering pines of the Great Forest, Ivo scrolled through the rest of the blog post, his frown as deep as the valley they’d just traversed.

Ninety-nine percent of the press coverage of this tour so far had been positive, and so it should be when the royal correspondents, the photographers and camera crews had been carefully selected for their favourable opinion of the monarchy.

The remaining 1 percent, however, concerned him.

This report—and others in the same vein—were few and far between, but every ‘like’ they attracted was one too many for his comfort.

These days, the smallest wave of dissent could gain momentum before anyone was even aware of it.

From there it could spiral out of control in the blink of an eye.

It had taken six months for the anti-monarchy movement to galvanise sixty years ago.

Today, it would take weeks, possibly even less.

He’d dedicated his entire life to maintaining the stability and security of his country, and he’d vowed long ago that nothing would ever jeopardise that, least of all himself.

Yet, if what he’d just read was to be believed, that was precisely what was happening.

Those who lived to brief against him had spied an opportunity to further their agenda.

And because he’d taken his eye off the ball, which had allowed the opportunity to arise in the first place, he only had himself to blame.

Distance between himself and Sofia in private was one thing, he thought, as he moved on to the comments and his frown became a scowl.

In public, however, it was quite another, and if he’d known in advance how the last couple of days were going to pan out he’d have addressed it at the time.

But he hadn’t anticipated distance. He hadn’t anticipated a lot of things, it seemed.

Consummating the marriage had not gone as he’d intended.

To prove to himself that he was in complete control of their relationship, that it would present zero threat to his work, he’d planned to destroy Sofia’s defences and ensure her surrender.

He had not expected to be challenged. He had not expected a battle.

However, a battle was precisely what he’d encountered, and it was one he’d lost pretty much the minute she started it. She’d twined herself around him like a vine and with the ferocious immediacy of a match to a touchpaper he’d gone up in flames.

Admittedly, it hadn’t taken much. Her scent and taste had already intoxicated him to a dizzying degree.

He’d never felt such soft skin. The strength of her reaction to his touch had been mind-blowing.

He couldn’t recall ever having been on the receiving end of anything like it.

He’d felt as if he could conquer the world.

Like some sort of superhero. Little wonder, then, that between the first and twelfth chimes of the clock he’d utterly forgotten who he was.

When he’d recovered, he’d been so shaken by the experience, so horrified by the total reverse of his plan as well as the complete collapse of his control that he hadn’t stuck around for further annihilation.

Feeling anything but invincible and badly needing to regroup, he’d lifted himself off her and snatched up his robe.

Then, after muttering something about their early start and the importance of rest, he’d disappeared through the door.

It hadn’t been his finest move, even if it had been one borne out of self-preservation.

But much to his amazement, Sofia had not called him on it.

In fact, they’d barely spoken since, unless to discuss the tour.

Breakfast the morning after had been a monosyllabic affair.

She’d spent most of the subsequent train journey along the coast to Livigno with her head buried in her laptop.

And twice now she’d bidden him goodnight after dinner and headed to her carriage alone.

Because this had suited him, Ivo hadn’t questioned it.

He’d been angry with himself for such appalling weakness, and angry with her for having such a hold on him.

Even now, two days since that night and with much royal-related business to occupy his mind, every time he so much as glanced in her direction he had a flashback of her, head back, crying out his name as she came for a second time.

His body invariably responded with frustrating predictability.

The last thing he needed was that to become a permanent affliction so he’d avoided contact as much as possible.

But thanks to the negative press the tour was garnering he could now see that approach to the problem for what it was—utterly unacceptable.

Once again he’d forgotten his responsibilities.

He’d become self-absorbed in a way he’d always sworn he wouldn’t.

He’d succumbed to emotions he hadn’t permitted himself in years, and even more infuriatingly, while he was struggling to get a grip on them, it seemed that she had no such trouble compartmentalising.

She’d evidently packed that night away, moved on and hadn’t looked back.

He hated feeling as though he was at a disadvantage and out of control, and he hated even more that he had not managed to contain it.

Yesterday afternoon spent in the country’s second biggest city should have been a triumph.

It should not have provided fodder for the country’s small but noisy republican movement.

The situation had to be addressed, he thought grimly, as he glanced at his watch and set down his coffee cup.

He was not having the monarchy brought down by a marriage designed to do the exact opposite simply because he’d somehow become too involved in it.

Obviously he would have to follow Sofia’s example and lock down the memories of bedding her once and for all.

But first he had to confront the optics—which were important—and ignore any personal discomfort he might suffer as a consequence, which wasn’t.

And since they were due to arrive at their next destination in just under half an hour there was no time to waste.

‘Sofia.’

‘Yes?’ she murmured impassively, without even looking up, damn her.

‘We have a problem.’

Sitting at the other end of the long, narrow walnut dining table, which gleamed beneath the warm, dappled and shifting sunlight, Sofia stiffened and wondered if Ivo could somehow read her mind. Although, really, the problems plaguing her weren’t so much theirs as hers alone.

Random snippets of the fifteen minutes they’d spent together in bed on Saturday night kept darting through her head, and whenever they did, her response was positively Pavlovian.

Heat surged through her. Her head spun so fast she went dizzy.

She wanted to seek him out, throw herself into his arms and kiss the life out of him, all of which was appalling because she was furious with him, with herself, with the entire bloody mess her emotions were in.

Once the marriage had been consummated, Ivo had not stuck around.

In fact, he’d sprung off her as if she’d developed syphilis.

Unable to get away fast enough, he’d muttered something about the early start and the busy day ahead and had then shot through the door before she’d been able to register what was going on.

Initially, once she’d got over the shock of his whiplash disappearance, she’d been relieved.

She hadn’t wanted him to linger. She’d needed the time to recover.

The space to berate herself for yielding to temptation so pathetically easily, even if she had succeeded in getting him to lose control too.

But then, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, she’d asked herself what could have caused such a dramatic reaction.

Had she revealed her feelings for him, as she’d feared she might?

She didn’t think so. No, she was sure she hadn’t.

So what else could have spooked him? She’d drawn a blank, which had resulted in a mad bout of second-guessing until she’d remembered that all he cared about was duty and everything had become clear.

Over the last couple of days she’d tried to ignore the hurt and rejection and get over the feeling of having been ever so slightly used.

She knew that for him that night had been about fulfilling their contractual obligation and nothing else.

She’d tried to convince herself that it wasn’t personal and that there was plenty of time to produce the children he’d promised her.