Modern Romance February Books 1-4. Maisey Yates

course,” he said.

      “Excellent,” the queen said, “I will have some of the staff show you to your room. In the meantime, I would like to spend some time with my granddaughter.”

      * * *

      Gabriella looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight, but she was still sitting awake in the library. Her conversation with her grandmother was playing over in her mind.

      Lucia had been talking of an old love, of honor and duty perhaps not being everything. Of how her heart still ached, all these years later, when she looked at the painting.

      It was so very strange for Gabriella, to hear her pragmatic grandmother speaking of love. They had spoken of it before, but always Lucia had been cautionary, because she had spoken of its loss.

      Now, though...she said when she looked at that painting it made her feel so full. It made her realize all the beauty she had carried with her thanks to that ill-fated affair.

      Made her realize she could never truly regret loving Bartolo, though she had not spent her life with him.

      In addition to that, Gabriella’s nerves were slightly frazzled with the idea of going to New York. More specifically, going with Alex.

      It meant an extension on their time on Isolo D’Oro. More time just to be near each other. Circling around the larger things that neither of them were prepared to embrace.

      She wanted it. She wanted more time with him. But she wasn’t sure they should have it.

      Things were... Well, they weren’t normal between them. She had been looking forward to getting away from him, and now it appeared that wouldn’t be happening. Of course, as much as she had been looking forward to there being some distance between them, she had also dreaded it.

      The idea of going back to life as it had been before. As though she had never met him, as though they had never spent a week on Isolo D’Oro together. As though he had never called her beautiful, as though they had never kissed... The very idea of that was painful to her. Sat in her chest heavily like a leaden weight.

      Which was probably the most telling sign that she didn’t need to get away from him.

      She stretched out on her tuffet, raising her arms, her hands balled into fists. She looked back down at the book she’d been reading and rubbed her eyes. It was a history book that focused on the art and culture of Isolo D’Oro. She had thought to look at it with her newfound real-life take on Isolo D’Oro to see if it might enhance it. Mainly, she had just sat there staring at the pages. Imagining the countryside. Being there, standing in the sunshine with Alex. Sitting in the garden with him, basked in moonlight as he tasted her. Touched her.

      The door to the library opened and she startled.

      Alex was standing there looking dashing, like a hero from a historical novel come to life.

      He was wearing a white shirt open at the collar, the sleeves pushed up past his forearms. His hair looked as though he’d been running his fingers through it. He looked... Well, he looked like temptation personified.

      “I thought I might find you here, Gabby,” he said.

      Her stomach did a little flip at his use of her nickname. “Yes, I do like the library.”

      She took her glasses off and rubbed at the bridge of her nose before putting them back in place.

      “You look tired,” he said.

      “I am. But I couldn’t sleep. I don’t see how I could with everything that’s happening tomorrow. New York. I’ve never been.”

      “I feel much the same.”

      “Why? Are you so anxious to get back to your real life?”

      “No,” he said, his tone dry. “That isn’t the problem. It isn’t fantasies about work that have me tossing and turning.”

      “If it isn’t fantasies of work, then—” Her eyes clashed with his, the meaning of his words suddenly sinking in. “Oh.”

      “It would be better if you were not coming with me, Gabriella,” he said, his tone full of warning.

      She nodded slowly. “I have no doubt that’s true.”

      “Doing what’s right is incredibly tiresome,” he said, walking deeper into the room, moving to sit in the chair across from hers. “And yet, it is the only thing that separates us from our parents, is it not?”

      She nodded mutely.

      “And I have to separate myself from them,” he continued, his voice rough.

      “You have,” she said. “You’re nothing like them at all.”

      “I have a half brother,” he said, the words hitting her in a strange way, taking a moment for her to untangle. It seemed like a change of subject, and yet she knew it wasn’t. Not really. “I found out about it when I was eleven years old. My father had an affair, as I told you before.”

      “My parents have had many,” she said slowly.

      “Affairs were nothing new,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “But a child... My mother was incensed. He was humiliating her. Bringing shame upon her. Causing the world to believe she might not be desirable.”

      Gabriella tried to force a smile. “My mother screams a very similar refrain once every few months.”

      “This was different,” Alex said. “I heard the altercation. It was Christmas. Snowing. Outside, the house had white lights strung all over it. As though they were trying to tell the world that we were normal. That we were a happy household. But inside... There were no lights. There was no tree. There was no happiness. And out there... My father’s mistress brought her son. He was not much younger than I was. Ten, maybe. She stood out there screaming at my father, their son by her side. Telling him that he had to acknowledge him. My father refused. I...I looked out there and I saw him. And I knew exactly who he was. I told no one. My father drove off in a rage, my mother with him, as they tried to escape the scene. Tried to get away from his mistress. This monster of his own making. That was the night they were in the accident. It was the night they died. And the only people left alive who knew about Nate were his mother, himself and me. I told no one. I kept my half brother a secret.”

      “Oh, Alex, what a terrible burden.”

      “What a terrible burden I put on him. A child. But I was so angry, Gabby. I blamed him. He was what they were arguing about. And so... I chose comfort over truth. I chose to do what was easy, not what was right. Had I been any sort of man...”

      “You weren’t,” she said, her chest tight. “You were a boy.”

      He shook his head, lowering it. “Not so much a boy.” He looked younger when he said it. She felt like she could see him, as he’d been then. Young and trying so hard to be brave. To uphold the honor of his family in the only way he knew how.

      “Yes,” she said, her throat aching. “You were.”

      “He was entitled to that money. To come to the funeral of his father. To be acknowledged. I robbed him of that. Until we needed him. When my grandfather needed a bone marrow transplant I let everyone know about Nate’s existence. He was Giovanni’s only hope, you see. I...I cannot forgive myself for those things, Gabby. I cannot. They reveal that underneath everything I have tried to fashion for myself I am nothing more than my father’s son. A man who uses people. A man who thinks nothing of putting others through hell in order to preserve his own comfort.”

      “That isn’t true, Alex.”

      He curled his hand into a fist. “Yes, it is. There’s a reason I’m telling you this.”

      “What’s the reason?”

      “Because I need you to understand. I need you to understand that I’m not a saint. That while I make a habit of practicing restraint, in the end I will