Page 155 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

Eventually, she managed to persuade Isabelle to leave her to get dressed, but only after she had promised to come to Isabelle’s study in the East Wing as soon as she was ready. Apparently, Travis Lord had already assembled a team of lawyers and hired a ‘crisis management’ guru to discuss next steps.

But as Mel showered and dressed the headache continued to pound at her temples, and the nausea lay like a sleeping dragon in the pit of her stomach.

Isabelle was wrong.

Shehadmessed up. And while she wasn’t responsible for the behaviour of the press, this situationwasher fault in many ways. She had been impossibly selfish and, worst of all, naïve, thinking she could sleep with Rene and there would be no consequences. And she had also been dishonest. Isabelle trusted her and she had destroyed that trust. Because she hadn’t told Isabelle or her mother the truth when she had arrived the day before, and now she was dragging Isabelle and her new husband—not to mention the rest of the Palace staff and the Androvian monarchy—into this mess with her.

And why had it come to this? Because she had been determined to indulge some idiotic fantasy that she and Rene hadmorethan chemistry?

An hour later, as she made her way to Isabelle’s study, dreading having to face her friend and her new husband—and all the other people who had no doubt seen those pictures too, and discuss ways to handle the fallout—her mind drifted to Rene.

The tears threatened again, because all she could see was the way he’d looked the last time she’d seen him—dishevelled and intense, naked and hot, with the beard, the scars and the healing wound on his arm making him dangerous and impossibly handsome and, for a fleeting moment, almost hers.

She swallowed the tears down ruthlessly.

You need to hold it together now and forget Rene for good. Because all your childish obsession with him has ever meant for you is trouble.

But as she walked into Isabelle’s study and saw the array of people assembled there, ready to stand by her and to help her out of this mess, all she really felt was even more alone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘IDON’TWANTto be a burden,’ Mel said for what seemed the five hundredth time in the past hour as she sat amidst the team of lawyers and advisers while everyone carried on talking around her, discussing outcomes and strategies to deal with the PR nightmare that her life had become. ‘And I definitely don’t think I should stay in His Majesty’s home in Colorado…’ she added, the thought of going into hiding in North America for the next two weeks, in the home of Isabelle’s consort whom she barely knew, only making the situation seem more surreal. And depressing.

It already felt surreal enough being in Isabelle’s library office, surrounded by leather books and the scent of lemon polish and old paper, with Travis Lord now seated behind the desk co-ordinating the team he had assembled. This place had always been so familiar because it was where she and Isabelle conducted their morning briefings, to discuss schedule commitments for that day and any other important business. But it had always been just the two of them and she had been the one supporting the Queen, not the other way around.

‘Mel, please stop saying you’re a burden when you’re not.’ Isabelle sat beside her on the leather sofa and covered the hands Mel had clasped in her lap to stop them trembling.

‘Yeah, and please stop calling me His Majesty. It freaks me out,’ her new husband added with a theatrical shudder, his smile encouraging Mel to share the joke. ‘Travis works, seeing as we’re family now, right, Belle?’

‘Yes, of course, Vis,’ Issy joked back.

Mel forced a wan smile to her lips. Her heart lifted, though, at least a little, at the latest evidence that her concerns for her friend and her newfound love were unfounded.

Mel had never seen Issy so confident and relaxed in anyone’s company before, except maybe her own. And certainly not when her courtiers or advisers were in attendance. But it was clear she and Travis Lord really were mad about each other, the intimate looks, the shared jokes and the casual touches—not to mention the nicknames—a testament to how much they not only supported each other but enjoyed each other’s company.

Mel had decided in the past hour she liked Lord, a lot. And she trusted him. He not only appeared to adore her best friend, but his irreverence and playfulness was something Issy had always needed more of in her overly structured life.

At least that was one less thing Mel needed to worry about, she thought miserably.

‘How about we wrap this up now?’ Travis said, giving her a watchful look before nodding to Arne, the Queen’s chief courtier, and the six other people in the room, who Mel had been introduced to but whose names she had instantly forgotten in the blur of stress and embarrassment. ‘Miss Taylor is clearly exhausted, and we have a plan of action now to handle this situation,’ Travis continued with more confidence than Mel felt. ‘Belle and I can talk in private with Miss Taylor about travel arrangements.’

Arne ushered the team of lawyers and the Hollywood crisis management consultant and his assistant out of the library.

‘Thank you,’ she said, stupidly grateful for all the work these people were willing to do on her behalf, once the room was cleared, and the door closed behind Arne.

‘Listen, Mel, my place in Colorado is the best option as your bolthole…’ Travis began.

Mel opened her mouth to suggest again she find her own refuge for the next few weeks—because surely Travis and Isabelle had already both done more than enough—when Arne burst back into the room.

‘Mr Lord, Your Majesty, Miss Taylor—’ he addressed them all, looking flustered, which for Arne was unheard of, because he was the most unflappable man on the planet ‘—I have just been informed that Prince Rene’s helicopter has landed at the Palace helipad.’

‘Rene’shere?’ Mel gasped, the foolish bubble of hope swiftly quashed by a surge of panic and distress.

Why on earth would she be happy to see him, when his arrival would only exacerbate the crisis they’d spent the last hour trying to solve? And anyway, what was he doing here when he’d made no attempt to contact her for twenty-four hours?

‘I see,’ said Isabelle, looking grave, because she had to know all the reasons why Rene showing up unannounced was not good.

At the exact same time Travis snarled, ‘Oh, yeah? It’s about time that entitled bastard showed up.’

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