Page 11 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8

Yet frustratingly, despite her extensive efforts to rise above the upset she felt, she couldn’t, which was all the more annoying when, after nineteen years of her parents constantly prioritising their emotions over hers, she’d assumed she’d learned how to deal with such futile sentiments.

But apparently she hadn’t and as a result she’d done what she’d sworn not to do and allowed herself to be swayed by passion.

She’d allowed her heart to dominate her head.

To prevent the collapse of her entire belief system and the potential detonation of their relationship, therefore, she’d had to put a stop to it.

She’d vowed to toughen up. She was way too soft.

If she wasn’t careful, this marriage would eat her alive.

She had to reinforce her defences. Add another course of bricks or two to the wall around her heart.

Because it wasn’t as if she could demand he clarify his thought process that night.

She didn’t do confrontation, which was another thing she could blame her parents for.

And even if she had been the combative type, she’d have let sleeping dogs lie.

What if she’d ended up sounding needy? What if he’d said something that had broken her heart?

What if he’d pointed out exactly what it was about her that made her worthy only of second place, that turned people away or made them flee from her bed?

How would she bear it? No. The best solution was to bury what had happened and how she felt about it and move on.

Irritatingly, however, this had proved easier said than done.

She’d frequently found herself forgetting about the hurt and confusion and instead entertaining the appalling idea of begging him for a repeat performance.

How could she want him so badly when she knew that he didn’t want her at all?

Where was her pride? Her dignity? In the end, to protect her self-respect as much as her heart, she’d had no option but to adopt frosty detachment and minimise contact as much as possible until she was sure she was bullet-proof.

But by Ivo directly addressing her now with this problem of theirs, it seemed the respite—which, in all honesty, she was slightly surprised he’d let her get away with for so long—was over.

Bracing herself against the impact of locking eyes with him for the first time since she’d come apart in his arms, Sofia looked up from her laptop and channelled her inner ice queen. ‘Just the one?’

‘Several, actually,’ he said, his face dark with displeasure and perversely all the more attractive for it. ‘A number of unfavourable articles are circulating about yesterday’s visit to Livigno.’

‘I know,’ she said, ignoring the objectionable shiver of heat that snaked down her spine. ‘I’ve been going through them. They’re not ideal, are they?’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Not ideal?’ he echoed in disbelief. ‘They’re a disaster. We’re supposed to be presenting a strong united front to our people and capitalising on the goodwill of the wedding. But in some parts that is evidently not happening. What’s going on?’

So much.

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ she said evenly, the outward epitome of cool, calm professionalism. ‘Nothing’s going on.’

His jaw clenched. ‘Of course there is. You avoid me. You can’t look at me.

You barely even speak to me. The Arctic is warmer than you have been these last couple of days.

And in private, that’s fine. But in public, it is very much not.

I married you because you were the one meant to be able to pull this off. ’

As if she needed a reminder…

‘You agreed to play a part. That was the deal. You’re reneging on it and I want to know why.’

‘I’m not reneging on anything,’ she countered, having zero intention of thrashing out her complicated feelings with someone who wasn’t remotely interested in hearing them.

‘I’m just tired. And rather overwhelmed.

You’re used to all this. I’m not. The constant security presence, the cameras, the attention, the people… It’s exhausting.’

‘That explains nothing,’ he said bluntly. ‘You’ve dealt with seventy-two-hour crises and I’ve never once seen you flag. You thrive on the adrenaline.’

‘This is different. The spotlight is on me. But I’ll get used to it. And anyway, what’s your excuse?’

His brows snapped together. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you haven’t exactly been playing your part either, have you? If I’ve been quiet, you’ve been positively Trappist. If I’m the Arctic, you’re the Ant arctic. These headlines aren’t all on me.’

Ivo’s frown deepened, as if he were unsettled by her observations.

‘I’ve been under a lot of pressure,’ he muttered eventually, the admission that he’d been firing on less than all cylinders obviously an unpleasant and frustrating one.

‘Which I grant hasn’t helped the situation.

But it must not continue. I simply can’t allow it.

So from now on, we need to focus on the bigger picture.

We should up the eye contact. Smile at each other more.

The occasional display of affection wouldn’t go amiss either.

I assume you’re in agreement with this, yes? ’

Well, no, she wasn’t in agreement with that at all, as a matter of fact.

Not only was she at sixes and sevens emotionally, her defences weren’t up to smiles and touching.

Despite how annoyed she was with him, she could hardly glance in his direction without swooning.

What if they collapsed entirely and she had another altar moment?

How mortifying would that be? How would she ever regain control then? ‘There has to be some other way.’

‘I’m open to suggestions,’ he said, his irritation at being challenged yet again evidenced by the muscle pounding in his cheek. ‘You’re the expert, after all.’

That was true. She was. And there was no situation she couldn’t spin.

With relish. However, she wasn’t feeling very expert right now.

She was having trouble focusing, and it had nothing to do with the sway of the train as the forest gave way to the beginnings of a town.

She was in danger of losing herself in the mesmerising depths of his eyes.

But that wouldn’t do, so she blinked to break the connection and instead decided to turn her attention to the heart of the matter, which with any luck might be something she could understand.

‘Is the 1 percent really that much of a concern?’

‘What?’ he said, the word slicing through the air like a lash. ‘Of course it is. I’m surprised you even have to ask.’

‘Why?’

‘Because, unchecked, 1 percent can rapidly become 2, then 4, then 8. Especially in an age of instant news and social media. When my grandfather married my grandmother, he took her off to a secluded estate in the southeast and they weren’t seen for six months.

The attempted coup didn’t come out of nowhere.

There was a power vacuum. Disparate factions saw an opportunity to unite and grabbed it.

’ He leaned forward, the sudden intensity of his gaze fairly pinning her to her seat.

‘I can’t risk that happening again. I’ve worked too hard and there’s still so much I hope to accomplish.

We have to be seen to be believed, Sofia, and we have to be convincing.

Loyalty requires a life of almost unlimited publicity to sustain it.

My father spent decades bringing the country back together.

I won’t allow anything to jeopardise a legacy that he paid for with his life. ’

A shadow darted across his features and, despite her resolve to remain aloof and unmoved, her heart twanged.

She’d been taught about the attempted coup that had taken place sixty years ago, of course, but she’d never thought of the emotional impact it might have had on those who came after.

Yet it had obviously been significant. Whether or not he was aware of it, there was a trace of bitterness to Ivo’s words that suggested he blamed his grandfather for his father’s fatal heart attack at the age of fifty-eight.

‘So that’s where your sense of duty comes from,’ she said, unable to prevent the ache that sprouted in her chest. ‘You feel you owe it to your father.’

‘Yes,’ he confirmed with a short nod. ‘But not just that. My responsibilities have been ingrained into me since birth. I eat, sleep and breathe them. There’s no room for selfishness—for what I want—so it’s fortunate I don’t want anything.

The country, the people and the monarchy always come first. Always .

And now you’re part of that. So you need to step up. ’

This was the second time he’d denied or minimised wanting something, and Sofia had the feeling he protested just a little too much.

But however intriguing she might find that, however much she might fancy comparing notes on playing second fiddle to something or someone else, there was no point asking him to elaborate.

His intractability on the subject radiated from every pore.

And perhaps, she thought with a twinge of guilt and the ebb of her umbrage, she ought to take a leaf out of his book and stop thinking only about herself and her needs.

The pressure he was under was immense and he was right, she had made a commitment to support him.

She loved him, and people did anything for those they loved, didn’t they?

Besides, it wasn’t as if she didn’t know how to put on an act.

She’d been doing it for at least the last year, and she’d learned from the masters, her parents, who, despite loathing one another in private, had been perfectly civil to each other in public.

So she had to get over herself and stop overthinking this. Ivo wasn’t, was he? He wasn’t struggling with feelings he had to suppress. Unlike her, he clearly had no misgivings about anything. His objectives were the same as they had been when he’d proposed. She just had to focus on those.

‘I understand,’ she said, nevertheless desperately hoping she wasn’t going to be burned to a crisp by the experience. ‘Whenever we’re in public, I’ll do what’s required. You have my word.’

He gave a nod. His jaw relaxed. ‘Good,’ he said, glancing out of the window as the train pulled into the station. ‘We’re here. It’s time to get the show on the road. Ready?’

No, not really. She had the horrible feeling that if she didn’t exercise extreme caution, her emotions might get the better of her and snowball into the chaos she feared.

That he could all too easily do her heart serious damage if she let herself care too much.

But as long as she remembered that this was a performance, a role she’d been contracted to play and nothing more, she could handle the odd touch here and there.

On the off-chance she did get carried away, she could claim it was part of the pretence.

And in private, she would continue to guard her fragile heart with everything she had.

‘Of course,’ she said, plastering a smoothly professional smile to her face as she pulled her shoulders back, straightened her spine and lifted her chin. ‘I’ve never been readier for anything. One happy couple? Coming right up.’