Page 154 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

‘Of the two of you, together,’ Isabelle added carefully. ‘The morning you were both rescued.’

Mel yanked her hands free, panic and shame clawing at her throat.

The drone? Oh, God. No.

Her stomach twisted, and nausea rose up her throat.

She’d been naked, clearly having spent a torrid night in Rene’s bed. Good grief, she’d probably still had the sheen of afterglow in her eyes from the titanic orgasm he’d just given her. And the press hadpictures…

She covered her mouth, scared she might throw up.

While it was doubtful that salacious photos of them would have a detrimental effect on Rene’s reputation, because he was a man, and a prince, and was already known as a playboy, it would be devastating for hers. But far worse—it would be devastating for Isabelle’s reputation, too. Mel was the Queen’s trusted adviser, a loyal member of her team, and she’d been caughtin flagrantewith the neighbouring Prince.

The press wouldn’t just shameher. A scandal of this magnitude would make a mockery ofeverythingIsabelle had tried to achieve over the last fourteen years to prove herself a worthy and dignified Queen. It could even put in jeopardy the integrity of all the projects they had been working so hard towards in the last few years.

‘Issy, I’m so,sosorry. I’ve ruined everything,’ Mel began, not sure how she could make amends. ‘I should never have…’

‘Mel, don’t apologise. This isnotyour fault,’ Isabelle interrupted, her voice firm and determined, the tone a combination of the loyal friend and the regal Queen.

‘How can it not be my fault when I’m the one who slept with him?’ Mel cried, sickened now not just by her thoughtless, reckless behaviour but by the fact she had managed to trash everything—her reputation, and Isabelle’s and Androvia’s—and all the achievements she was most proud of in her life, for one night of pleasure.

But Isabelle simply grabbed her hands and held onto them, her gaze direct and devoid of judgement.

‘Listen to me, Mel. Don’t youdareblame yourself for the unconscionable behaviour of the person using that drone. They had no right to take intrusive photos of you two. And no right to sell them. And the press had no right to print them and post them online. Or to be camped outside the Palace now, but that’s what they do… And it’s what we have lawyers and security teams for.’

Mel’s heart sank into her imploding stomach, the shame overwhelming.

The photos were on the internet. Naked, explicit photos… And the press were outside the Palace.

She tugged her hands free and leapt up from the bed, frantic and feeling sicker by the second but aware of one thing. She had to minimise the Queen’s involvement in this catastrophe.

‘I need to leave. You and Travis are right. I should resign…to limit the damage…’ She crossed the room, flung open the doors of her armoire and pulled out a suitcase.

She would have to give up her job, the work she loved, and leave Androvia and the Palace, which had been the only real home she had known since she was ten. But all of that served her right for being a fool and bringing this mess to her best friend’s doorstep.

But as she began to frantically fill the suitcase, her mind whirred. What would she do? And where could she go?

Her mother had returned to London the night before, after she had been assured Mel was okay. She had a full schedule of catering jobs, several of which she had already had to cancel to come to Androvia, worried about her daughter, while said daughter had been busy indulging in an insane fling.

But as Mel hauled her clothes off the rail and threw them in the suitcase, Isabelle appeared by her side and took her arm again.

‘Mel, stop.’ The quiet command cut through Mel’s panic, enough to have the clothes sliding out of her fingers and falling to the floor. Her knees began to shake.

‘I refuse to accept your resignation,’ Issy said, ‘as you have done nothing wrong. And Travis and I arenotsuggesting you leave for good, just for a couple of weeks until this dies down and we can get the Crown’s lawyers working on getting the photos deleted and Travis and my PR teams have worked out a story you’re comfortable with to feed to the press,’ her friend continued. ‘This is your home and will always be your home.’ Isabelle grasped her other arm and gave her a gentle shake. ‘You’re my family, Mel. Theonlyfamily I had for a very long time. And no way am I letting you deal with this mess alone.’ She gave a hefty sigh. ‘A mess which is absolutely and unequivocallynotyour fault.’

She tugged Mel towards her and wrapped her arms around her. ‘Do you understand?’ she whispered against her ear.

Mel shuddered as a wave of emotion welled up inside her, the panic and shame joined by the unbearable weight of gratitude and love.

‘But I’ve made such a mess of things,’ she offered, her voice shaking.

She didn’t deserve Isabelle’s support. But having it meant everything.

‘Do you understand me?’ Isabelle repeated, her voice softer but still firm, like the hug.

Mel nodded, tears stinging her eyes, the emotion jammed in her throat. She choked out the first sob, then couldn’t seem to stop as Isabelle held her and soothed, her voice calm and measured and reassuring.

The great gulping sobs were hopelessly self-indulgent and melodramatic, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Isabelle held her and comforted her until the storm finally passed.

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