Page 191 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

The one chance for him to be with someone who actually saw him as a person. That wasn’t something he had ever wanted before.

He could honestly say he wasn’t concerned over his authenticity or anything like that.

But it was quiet out here. And there was none of the revelry that he liked to surround himself with. None of the distraction. He couldn’t even move. And so for him in that moment, it seemed like maybe being with a person who saw him as simply that—a person—might be the best way forward.

“Well. Then we can hope that actually works,” she said. “I know that at some point my sister Daisy will track my phone. I just don’t think…” She scrambled over all of the debris, to the cockpit. She opened up a box at the center of the plane. She took out her intact phone. And held it up. “I don’t have any service.”

“You only just thought to check that?”

“Yeah. I’m kind of in shock. Also, I think on some level I figured we wouldn’t have any service.”

“Does it have that GPS on it that lets you make a call even without service?”

“It’s blank. But I can check.” She entered in 911, and he could see the phone screen go black. “It’s not calling out,” she said.

“I can try mine.”

“Where is yours?”

He looked around. “I… I actually have no idea.”

She went back to where he was, and searched around.

“I don’t see it.”

“Great. It might have flown out with the other debris. It wasn’t in a safe box. The box exists so that no one is playing on their phone while they’re trying to fly,” she said.

“Wow. Is that a risk?”

“Not with me. I always pay attention. I can’t stress to you enough that the fact that you aren’t dead right now is because I’m actually a great pilot.”

He laughed. “You have to forgive me for not fully being able to internalize that.”

“Hey. I get it. It feels like more of a disaster than a rescue. It was a rescue. Believe me.”

She was very earnest. And he decided he would believe her. Because again, if they were to die, or him specifically, since he was the one with the open wound, then there was no point in being suspicious. No point in being hostile to the last person he would ever see.

This pretty little enigma who reached him even through the blinding pain he felt now.

It really was a shame his leg was destroyed. Because one last round of sex might’ve been nice. Of course, she could always be on top.

“How old are you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Random.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“It was related to my train of thought.”

“Okay. I’m twenty-five.”

“Excellent.”

She simply looked at him like he was infinitely baffling. She looked like something that might be native to the snow and mountains. Like a small rock-climbing mammal. Or a particularly hardy goat. Cute, but perfectly capable of surviving in a harsh environment.

He was descended from warriors. So many nations were founded on conflict, and his was no different. The strongest had risen to the top, but in all the generations since, there had been peace. Peace, affluence. He considered himself a man in control. He invested in many industries, building his personal wealth portfolio beyond that which a mere monarch could easily obtain unless he was criminally exploiting his people. And while he possessed confidence in his ability to do what needed to be done, he had never had to worry about his physical survival.

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