Modern Romance Collection July 2024 Books 1-4

CHAPTER EIGHT

HEFOUNDHER in the underwater lounge room, staring out at the schools of fish, a book beside her, unopened, a cup of tea curled in her hands.

He hesitated in the doorway, not sure what to say, what to ask, what to do. It was an uncharacteristic uncertainty for Benedetto, and he resented it immediately.

‘You turned the boat around.’

She’d clearly sensed him. He moved deeper into the room, then took the seat opposite her. ‘Yes.’

Her eyes slid to his, pinned him to the spot. ‘Why didn’t I go through with it?’

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘I don’t know.’

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘I knew exactly what to do, how to escape, where to go. And then, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t.’ A single tear slid down her cheek. She dashed it away quickly. ‘Nothing makes sense.’

‘Actually, I think things make sense for the first time all week. We’re going back to Spain. That’s the right choice. You can relax.’

Her smile was a shadow. ‘Can I?’

‘I’ve told Anton.’

Her brows shot up. ‘What did he say?’

‘Not a lot,’ Benedetto responded truthfully. ‘We had a slight difference of opinion on the matter, but he’ll come round.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes, because I’m right.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘You’re right to leave the choice up to me, but I don’t know what I should do. I hate the idea of going back, but how long am I going to stay away for? Am I really never going to see them again? And if I’m going to see them at some point, why not now?’ She stood, teacup in hands, moving to the window, staring out at the fish without really seeing. ‘I fought you tooth and nail but then today, when I could have left, I didn’t. That has to say something about my subconscious mind, doesn’t it?’ Then, with eyes that were haunted and round like plates, she turned herself fully to face him. ‘I miss them, Ben. I really miss them.’ Another tear slid down her cheek, and he closed his own eyes, taking in a deep breath.

This was about her family, not him.

She’d come back for them, not because of Benedetto, and he was relieved because, despite the boundaries she’d insisted upon, a part of him was afraid that she was starting to want more than he could offer. Except she didn’t. Nothing had changed.

‘What do you want to do?’

That was a good question. She was standing on a precipice, and he was giving her the choice: to jump? Or not?

Amelia’s eyes lifted to his and held, her throat shifting as she swallowed. ‘I’m not who you think I am,’ she said, eventually, so softly he almost didn’t hear.

‘What?’

Amelia pulled at a piece of invisible lint on her skirt and then she sighed heavily. Was she really going to do this? The truth had been like a ticking time bomb inside her for a long time. She twisted her fingers anxiously, speaking without looking at Ben. ‘About two and a half years ago, completely by accident, I found something out about myself.’ Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him, then shook her head. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you this.’

‘You can trust me,’ he said, as though he knew she needed to hear that.

‘Can I?’

‘Of course.’

He was right, she realised. Ben had turned the boat around. He hadn’t wanted to, but, ultimately, he was a good person. He was doing what he saw was the morally correct thing. He would never use this information against her. He wasn’t Daniel.

It was like a weight being lifted off her shoulders. She nodded tersely.

‘I was looking for a picture book my mother used to read me as a child. I wanted to take it with me to a hospital visit, to read to sick kids; the book was always one of my favourites,’ she said, remembering the day as though it were yesterday. ‘The attic is one of the best places in the palace. We’re not really meant to go there,’ she explained. ‘But even as a girl, I loved it. It’s where all of our memories are packed away, neatly into boxes, archived for posterity’s sake. There are these windows near the top of the walls, round and old, that let in just enough light to see all the dust motes dancing in the sunshine,’ she said, tilting her head to the side. ‘But there are lifetimes’ worth of artefacts stored, so it’s not easy to find one particular item. I started with a trunk marked books, and kept going. Occasionally, I would find a book that interested me, pull it out, read a few pages, put it back.’

Her brow furrowed; Benedetto remained quiet, giving her space to explain.

‘And then, I found a paperback novel that almost seemed not to belong with the rest.’

‘Didn’t belong how?’

She waved a hand through the air. ‘It just wasn’t the kind of book you’d keep.’ She shrugged. ‘I was interested in why it was with the old leather-bound hardbacks. And when I opened it, an envelope fell out.’

Guilt flooded her heart, her chest, her cheeks flushed pink. ‘I should have put it away without looking, but I was curious.’

‘What was it?’ Benedetto asked, leaning closer.

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut. ‘On the front, it said simply “darling”. I had no idea what it would mean. I suppose I was captivated by the romance of it. But I knew the moment I opened the envelope and lifted out the photo that I’d discovered something important. And wrong.’

Benedetto’s eyes roamed her face.

‘It was a picture taken some years ago—twenty-three, as it turns out—of my mother with the head of our stables, a man named Felipe Lamart. It was an intimate photograph.’ Amelia’s cheeks darkened from pink to red, her eyes not meeting Ben’s. ‘And in the letter, he asked if she planned to keep their baby.’

Benedetto’s breath hissed out from beneath his teeth.

‘I’m the baby,’ Amelia whispered, needlessly. ‘The King isn’t my father...my brothers are half-brothers. I’m evidence of an affair that my mother clearly wants to hide. My real father is Felipe Lamart—a man who, I discovered, died when I was ten years old. He never tried to contact me. Evidently he didn’t want anything to do with me.’ She shrugged, blinking away.

‘This is why you ran away?’

She shook her head. ‘I...was in a state of shock,’ she mumbled, the words tripping over themselves. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything to anyone, but I couldn’t make sense of it. I needed to talk to someone, to ask for advice. Or maybe I just wanted to get it off my chest, I don’t know. It was an immense thing to have learned about myself.’

‘Who did you tell?’

Amelia’s anguish was profound. ‘My boyfriend at the time, Daniel.’

Benedetto’s voice was carefully muted of emotion. ‘That’s a very normal response. What did he say?’

‘Nothing important. Not then. I decided to get a DNA test, just in case it was somehow a mistake. Daniel helped me organise it. We sent away to a lab in America, using Daniel’s address for correspondence, so it couldn’t easily be traced back to me.’

Benedetto nodded.

‘The test confirmed what I’d discovered. The King and I don’t share any DNA.’

Benedetto lifted a hand to her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, cara.’

Amelia’s voice trembled. ‘Things hadn’t been great with Dan and me for a while, and, after this, I just needed to be by myself. We broke up. I thought it was amicable, but I’d misunderstood.’ She pushed to standing, striding across the room now, so angry with herself. ‘I knew he was socially ambitious, that he didn’t have much money and was captivated by the palace and the lifestyle, but I still thought... I really thought he was with me because he cared about me. I was so stupid, Ben. So stupid.’

‘What happened?’

‘He blackmailed me,’ she whispered, fidgeting with her fingers. ‘He had a copy of the DNA results. He said that if I didn’t give him two million euros, he’d sell the story to the highest-bidding newspaper.’

Benedetto swore in Italian, crossing the room to stand right in front of Amelia.

‘And so?’

‘And so,’ she repeated, aghast, ‘everything would have been ruined. I’d discovered this awful secret of my mother’s, and mine, something that could ruin her life, her marriage, could change everything for my family, and then I’d told someone who saw me as a paycheque. I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Of course it is,’ she contradicted. ‘I should have known better.’

‘You were in a state of shock.’

‘Yes,’ she muttered. At least that much was true. ‘But that’s no excuse.’

‘What happened with Daniel?’

‘I paid him. He said it would be enough, “for now”.’

Benedetto swore beneath his breath.

‘I felt like I would never be free of him, Ben.’ She groaned. ‘And so I disappeared. I thought with me gone, the risk would go too. And it has. But if I go back...’

Benedetto felt as though he’d been punched in the solar plexus. He stared at her long and hard, as the pieces slotted into place and he understood, finally, why she’d run away, how selfless and courageous she’d been in taking herself out of the palace, away from her parents, to protect her mother, to disappear rather than risk any of this coming out. And how terrified she must have been, how heartbroken, after her bastard ex-boyfriend’s advantageous betrayal.

Something uneasy shifted inside Benedetto.

A sense that Amelia was vulnerable, that she’d been badly hurt. That despite what she’d said, if Benedetto wasn’t very careful, this could come to mean more to her than he wanted. Because no matter how much he desired her, Benedetto had no intention of staying in Amelia’s life. Or any woman’s. He would never risk that kind of attachment, permanence, connection. Not after what he’d been through.

Every cell in his body was committed to a lifetime spent on his own, relying on no one, depending on no one, loving no one. Never again. He had to make sure Amelia didn’t mistake his sympathy for anything else, especially not now he understood what she’d been through.

He wouldn’t become another man who let her down.

‘My whole life is a lie,’ she mumbled, wrapping her arms around her chest. ‘How could I keep going to family events, dinners, birthdays, Christmas, festivals, all the things we do together, knowing what I know, and what I’d done? And my father, the man who raised me and taught me to ride a bike and bake and laugh at corny old movies, how could I look him in the eye again?’

‘He’s still your father,’ Benedetto said, keeping a careful distance between them.

‘I don’t belong with them. I don’t belong anywhere.’

‘Listen.’ He spoke sternly, needing to cut through her sadness. ‘What you learned, and how you learned it, was devastating. There’s no excusing nor ignoring that. But it doesn’t change the fact that your family loves you. None of this is your fault. Don’t you think you should at least discuss the matter with your mother?’

Amelia gasped. ‘I could never!’

‘Why not?’

‘She’d be devastated to know I know. And furious with me for turning to Daniel, of all people.’

‘He was your boyfriend,’ Ben said rationally. ‘Trusting him makes sense.’

‘Not for us. We were raised to be more careful than that. I should never have told another soul.’

‘This is not your burden to carry,’ he said emphatically. ‘Your mother had an affair. That happens. It was a mistake. Decades later, she and your father are still together, happy. They’ve raised a family, are on the brink of watching their oldest son marry, presumably soon to welcome grandchildren into the mix. Life is long, if we’re lucky, and not always as we expect it. Your father would understand. Your mother would certainly not want something she did two decades ago to keep you away a day longer.’

Amelia dropped her head to his chest and sobbed properly now, her grief shifting to something else, to a cathartic release, so Ben found it almost impossible not to react. But this was a vital moment. He would support her, but he needed to make sure their lines didn’t get blurred.

‘I don’t want to go back to Valencia,’ she said softly, eyes searching his, looking for answers. ‘I don’t know what to do next, but running away isn’t going to fix this. It’s not going to solve it.’ She pulled back a little, looked up into his face. ‘Will you take me to Catarno, Benedetto?’

It was the right choice. She needed to stop running, to be back with her family.

‘Yes.’

She held his hand when he would have stepped away to issue the command to Cassidy and Christopher. ‘But, Ben?’ Her eyes were huge, filled with sadness. ‘When we get there...’ she pressed a hand to his chest ‘...this has to stop.’

It was exactly what he’d been thinking, wasn’t it? That they needed to end this... So why did hearing her say that so factually aggravate him?

‘It’s going to be hard enough, dealing with all this. I don’t need to worry about someone finding out we’re sleeping together. My life at the palace is an open book. It would be too risky...’

‘That makes sense,’ he rushed to reassure her, relieved that it was Amelia who’d said it first. ‘I’m there if you need me though,’ he added. ‘As a friend.’

Her smile was tight, and dismissive. He knew then that she wouldn’t call on him for help, and he wondered why that bothered him so much.

The biggest port in Catarno was Livoa, where there was a high-security section used by the Catarno military and, when in use, the royal yacht. It was not a surprise to Amelia when Cassidy steered Benedetto’s boat past the others and towards the high-security gates. There was no checking of identities—the information had been sent ahead, the serial number of the boat verified by computer—and they were waved past the armed guards, into a section of the marina that was heavily fortified.

Amelia shivered as the boat was brought to a stop. Beside her, Benedetto seemed to stiffen as well.

‘If, at any point, you want to leave, I’m at your disposal.’

Her heart twisted uncomfortably, because she knew he meant it. He was her saviour after all. The problem for Amelia was that it made Benedetto pretty damned perfect, and all the emotions of hostility and anger she’d felt towards him initially, which had inured her from feeling anything more for him than wild, overpowering desire, had faded into nothing, so it was almost impossible not to let her heart get involved in things.

But that would be well and truly stupid.

Benedetto had done an about-turn; he had shown himself to be noble and good, but that didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. And knowing what she did about his upbringing and his loss as a father, she could understand why he’d chosen a life of solitude.

It would be really dumb to fall for him.

Really dumb.

And so she’d ended things pre-emptively, knowing that to keep going as they were was a one-way ticket to Disasterville, for Amelia at least.

She looked up at Benedetto and he smiled reassuringly, his face changing, morphing into something beautiful and breathtaking, and inwardly she groaned because, despite her very best intentions, she was pretty sure the horse had bolted on the whole love front already. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

It probably wouldn’t, but, somehow, his words comforted her a little anyway.

As the boat putted along, then finally drew to a stop, she saw a limousine waiting with two flags on the front—her brother’s crest, and the flag of Catarno.

Her heart dropped to her toes. ‘I can’t do this.’

‘Yes, you can.’

She expelled a shaky breath but stood her ground, and because Benedetto was at her side, it felt easier, more practicable.

‘Okay.’ She nodded once. ‘You’re right. Let’s go.’

Benedetto hadn’t known what to expect. Flowers, serenades, her family lined up to greet her? Not this. The moment her feet connected with dry land, the royal guard formed a circle around her, separating Amelia from Benedetto, so she stared back at him wide-eyed, clearly terrified.

‘Where are you taking her?’

None of them spoke to him and Amelia didn’t say a thing in her own defence. The guards enveloped her so that, despite her height, she was almost invisible, and he understood—there was the risk of photographers lurking. They were protecting her.

Anger at his impotence—an unwanted and unwelcome feeling that reminded him what it had been like as a young boy hearing his mother berated and insulted—crested inside him. He was furious and powerless all at once as she was shepherded into the waiting limousine. He stared after it, already reaching for his phone to call Anton and demand an explanation, to demand he have the limousine turn back.

‘Ben.’

He spun at the sound of his name to find his closest friend standing at the edge of the dock, watching proceedings with a grim expression. But then, Anton laughed softly, shaking his head. ‘You look like you’re about to punch something.’

Benedetto grimaced, schooling his expression into a mask of calm. He was not his father. He would not surrender to anger. Ever.

‘Your sister has done an incredibly brave thing. I intended to escort her to the palace, to make sure she was okay.’ Even to his own ears, it sounded stupidly defensive.

‘What for?’ Anton’s eyes narrowed. ‘And brave how? She’s come home, Ben, not to face a firing squad, but to be welcomed back with open arms by all and sundry. What in the world is she so afraid of?’

To that, Benedetto could not reply truthfully.

‘Where are they taking her?’

‘To my mother, who has not slept for two days, since I told her that Amelia was coming home. We deliberated a long time about the best way to effect the reconciliation and decided privacy was appropriate.’

Ben heard the subtext. This was a family matter.

‘Come on.’ Anton nodded over his shoulder, to where another car was waiting. ‘Ride with me.’

A whole kaleidoscope of butterflies had taken up residence inside Amelia as the limousine cut through the streets of the old city and took the mountain roads to the palace. So familiar to her, so stunning and unlike any other part of the world. She could only stare out of the window—flanked as she was on either side by a guard, as though even now there was a risk she’d bolt—and allow the memories to consume her.

When the palace came into view, it was a moment of intense pain and exuberance. She made a guttural gasping sound and turned, seeking Benedetto, wanting to share it with him, but not able to, because he was no longer with her.

And that wasn’t his fault.

The guard had descended too quickly, had taken her away, and she’d let them. She could have commanded them to stop, to wait for him, but part of her had been glad to separate, because she’d made the decision to part from him. Self-preservation instincts had kicked in.

Running away again?a little voice demanded, but she ignored it.

If she was running away, it was only because it was the right thing to do. Benedetto wouldn’t want her to develop serious feelings for him—he’d sprint in the opposite direction if he thought there was any risk of that. Better to have ended it now, before it started to mean something to Amelia. Before she started to want him in her life, for always and for ever...

The limousine approached the palace gates, paused and entered at a snail’s pace before picking up speed again. The trees to the west of the path were in full bloom, startlingly yellow and so beautiful her heart lifted despite the trepidation she felt. The palace itself was a sight she’d craved, and Amelia drank it in now, every stone face and gold-tipped turret, the wall that was covered in scrambling bougainvillea, the roses that grew rampant at the front of the palace. It was all so lovely, so utterly known to Amelia.

Nervousness besieged her but somehow there was also relief. She could barely keep her emotions in check as she stepped from the vehicle, looking around on autopilot for Benedetto. But of course he wasn’t there yet.

She turned to one of the guards. ‘Would you have a car sent to the dock to collect Benedetto di Vassi?’

‘He has been collected, Your Highness.’

She physically recoiled at the use of her title. It had been a long time.

‘Is he here?’ She cursed her weakness immediately for asking the question.

‘This way please, Your Highness.’ Another guard spoke swiftly, a woman, gesturing towards the palace. Amelia compressed her lips, frustrated, but also impatient now, because she gathered where this was going. She was being brought home, to her family, to meet with them away from any risk of public scrutiny.

Her nerves jangled as the guard led her through the palace, as if she wouldn’t know the way herself, to the doors of one of the morning rooms.

‘Her Majesty is waiting,’ the female guard said with a small bow before opening the door and ushering Amelia in.

And there was her mother, standing in the middle of the room, wringing her hands in the exact same way Amelia did when she was nervous, until she saw Amelia and let out a cry that was barely human and ran across the room, throwing her arms around her daughter.

‘Oh, my darling,’ she sobbed, burying her head in Amelia’s shoulder, crying so much that her body was racked and her face wet. ‘You’re home. You have no idea how badly I wanted this, how much I have missed you. Oh, my darling, my darling girl, let me look at you,’ and she pulled away only so she could study Amelia intently for several seconds before wrapping her up in another huge hug.

Amelia was numb and overwhelmed at the same time, an unusual combination but so it was. She’d missed her mother too, and she loved her so much, but she knew that she had to grow strong, to inure herself to this life, because it wasn’t tenable for her to stay. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere.

Except on the boat, with Benedetto, that same dangerous little voice whispered in the back of her mind, imploring her to listen, to escape again, but this time, with him. This time with the proper goodbyes to her family, so they wouldn’t worry. But that was a fantasy she couldn’t indulge; it would never work long-term—he wouldn’t want it, and she couldn’t bear to ask it of him.

‘My darling, tell me everything.’ Anna-Maria Moretti wiped her tears and gestured to a small floral-covered sofa. They sat down as the door opened and a servant carried through a tray of biscuits and tea.

‘“Everything” would take a while.’

‘We have a while, don’t we?’ Anna-Maria asked, eyes roaming her daughter’s face. ‘You’re not going anywhere, are you?’

Amelia couldn’t quite meet her mother’s eyes. ‘Mum, listen,’ she began cautiously. But what could she say? That she knew about the affair? About her parentage? That she’d been blackmailed, that someone out there knew their secret? She clamped her mouth shut.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re home now. We can talk about it later.’

‘Okay,’ Amelia agreed, uneasily though, anxious, stressed, worried, of all people, about Benedetto. Who was more than capable of looking after himself.

She expelled a long, slow breath.

‘Tell me about Anton’s fiancée. Tell me what I’ve missed.’

Relieved that it seemed Amelia wasn’t going to disappear immediately, Anna-Maria began to speak, a little too quickly, as though she too was uneasy, or nervous, but gradually she calmed.

‘She’s wonderful, you’ll love her. We all do. She’s been so good for Anton, so calming and steadying. She’s made him a better man.’

‘How did they meet?’

‘At a hospital benefit. She’s a paediatrician, you know. She’ll give it up, once they’re married, which is a great shame, but the constitution demands it.’ Anna-Maria tsked her disapproval. ‘Your father tried to change it but apparently he cannot. Sadly for Vanessa, she’ll have to content herself with some volunteer work and becoming a patron of the charities she likes.’

‘Is she okay with that?’

‘I think it took some getting used to, which is one of the reasons she refused his proposal the first two times.’ Anna-Maria’s brows knitted together. ‘She had a difficult upbringing, you know, to her, we are already like parents. I hope you like her, darling. I know it will mean so much to her to have you as a sister. She’s been so looking forward to meeting you.’

Amelia’s chest was hurting. She felt terrible for having disappeared, for having worried everyone, for having missed so much, and she also felt awful for being back, for the risk her appearance brought to them, for the possibility that just by being here she was exposing the family to a scandal from which they might not recover. She was a living, ticking time bomb, her very life the evidence of her mother’s affair. Amelia was the evidence, but it was her mother who’d cheated, then lied, and as Amelia sat opposite the Queen, she couldn’t help but feel a whip of anger at the base of her spine.

‘I’m looking forward to meeting her too,’ Amelia promised, distracted now.

Anna-Maria spent an hour going over everything else Amelia had missed and also some scheduling concerns, such as the dress fitting for the wedding, and the requirements for the next few days. Amelia barely paid attention.

‘From tomorrow, the official events will commence. You arrived just in time, darling. Just in time.’ Then, with a softening to her face and a hint of moisture back in her eyes, she said, ‘I’m just so glad you came home. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too,’ Amelia whispered, and, despite the complex emotions she felt towards her mother, she knew that was right.

As they hugged, the door opened and His Majesty King Timothy Moretti strode into the room, dressed formally, followed by his second son, Rowan. ‘Good God, it’s true,’ Timothy said, wiping a hand over his eyes. ‘You’re home.’

A lump formed in Amelia’s throat as she faced the moment she’d feared the most—seeing again the man who’d raised her, knowing he was not her father, that he’d been duped into the role. And though it had not been her lie, her betrayal, nor her fault, guilt curdled her gut and nausea rose like a tidal wave inside her.

She bowed, as was custom, but the King made a noise of frustration and pulled her into his arms, hugging her so hard she thought a rib might crack. ‘Don’t you ever, ever do anything like this again,’ he said fiercely, but with a voice that shook. ‘I forbid it. By royal decree, do you understand?’ It was a joke, of sorts, but Amelia heard the strain in his voice and again the guilt at having run away and hidden herself from her family crashed into her like a tonne of bricks. What else could she have done though? She felt risk from every angle; it was stupid to have come back, but how could she have stayed away? Amelia felt as though she were caught between a rock and a hard place.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, simply, because she could not promise to stay, but had truly yearned for her family. A moment later, Rowan hugged her and her heart skipped because she felt closest of all to her middle brother, who’d had the privilege of growing up royal without the pressures.

‘Ready to be one of us again?’ he asked lightly, his eyes scanning her face.

Amelia swallowed quickly; she wasn’t one of them, though. ‘I’m glad to see you all.’

Rowan’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t push it, and Amelia was glad. There were some answers she just didn’t have yet.

Benedetto had been to the palace before but now he saw it through different eyes. He saw it as the place where Amelia had grown up, the gardens she’d run through, the art she’d studied, the long, historic, beautiful corridors she’d skipped down as a child. The building that had housed her heartbreaks, hopes, that had finally borne witness to her awful discovery and the impact that had on her, the blackmail, the pain of that betrayal.

‘You’re not listening,’ Anton said with a grin, a study in relaxed calm now that Amelia was back and Benedetto had taken his place at Anton’s side.

‘No.’ Benedetto was unapologetic. ‘Tell me again.’

‘You’re still worried about her.’

Benedetto’s eyes flashed to Anton’s. ‘Yes.’

‘You’re being ridiculous. She’s fine. Probably just being suffocated by my parents’ many, many embraces.’

‘Aren’t you eager to see her too?’ Benedetto asked, his voice carefully muted of emotion.

‘I haven’t seen her in over two years. I can wait a little longer.’

‘You’re angry with her.’

‘It’s my wedding in three days,’ Anton said, but now Benedetto saw through the air of relaxation. ‘I’m not angry about anything.’

Benedetto was too good a study of dark emotions though. ‘Why?’ he pushed.

Anton compressed his lips, gave up the pretence. ‘Why do you think?’ He spread his hands outward. ‘She broke my mother’s heart. And kept breaking it, every day she stayed away, every message she did not respond to, every time she refused to see us. Each Christmas and birthday she missed. She’s selfish, Ben. Yes, I’m angry with her. But I can’t think about that now, because in three days I’m getting married in a ceremony that will be broadcast across the globe, and viewed in person by thousands, including the heads of state of most countries in the world. So Amelia is the furthest thing from my mind.’