Page 10 of Owned By Royal

“I haven’t decided whose.”

“You realize the cameras are still taking pictures. They’ll assume you’re unhappy,” I point out.

“They’d be right.” Her smile never wavers.

I fight back my own laugh. “You hide your irritation well.”

“I learned from the best.”

Before I can ask whether she’s referring to my father or her mother, the photographers thank us and begin shouting for other guests. Sierra slips from beneath my arm immediately.

“I’ll see you around,” she says sweetly enough for anyone listening.

Then she walks away without another glance. I watch her disappear into the crowd. Riccardo appears beside me carrying two glasses of bourbon, offering me one.

“Here, brother.”

We drift toward one of the quieter corners of the ballroom where our father is already surrounded by politicians and investors eager to congratulate him on his engagement.

“So,” Riccardo says, “another wife.”

I shrug. “It keeps him occupied.”

“It also keeps him distracted.”

That earns my attention. Riccardo nods toward Marco.

“The more invested he is in wedding plans and impressing Yvonne, the less involved he becomes with day-to-day operations. Guess who gets to make most of the decisions?”

“You.”

He smiles into his drink. “I’m not complaining.”

“I figured.”

“The old man trusts me more every year.” There’s no malice in his response. Just honesty. “What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“Still planning to spend the rest of your life pretending tattooing is your greatest ambition?”

“It’s worked so far.”

I feel his as he studies me for a moment before following my gaze across the ballroom.

“You know if I didn’t know better, I’d think you have the hots for our soon to be stepsister,” he says.

I don’t move my gaze off her. “And why would you think that?”

“You usually have half the women in these rooms orbiting around you.”

“I’m taking the night off.”

Riccardo chuckles. “I think you’re losing your touch.” That makes me laugh.

“My touch?”

“I’ve been watching for twenty minutes. Not one flirtatious conversation. Not one admirer hanging off your arm. I’m beginning to worry.”