Page 18 of Owned By Royal

“You can,” he insists, his free hand reaching around to grip my breast, his thumb teasing my nipple. “You will. Come for me, Sierra. Come for me now.”

His voice, rough and commanding, pushes me over the edge. I come again, harder this time, my vision whiting out, my body convulsing around him. He groans, his rhythm faltering, and then he’s coming too, burying himself deep and spilling inside me with a ragged cry.

We collapse onto the couch, a tangle of limbs and ragged breathing. He pulls out slowly, and I whimper at the loss, at the sudden emptiness. Then he gathers me in his arms, pulling me against his chest, his heart hammering against my back.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his lips against my temple. “You’re going to kill me.”

I laugh, the sound breathless and giddy. “Ditto.”

We lie there for a long moment, the afternoon light fading to gold around us. I can hear the distant sounds of the street outside, the occasional car passing by. The shop is quiet, peaceful, and I feel safer than I have in weeks.

I should tell him. About Marco, about my suspicions, about the investigation that’s been keeping me awake at night. But his arms are warm around me, and his breath is steady against my neck, and I don’t want to break this bubble. Not yet.

Instead, I turn in his arms and kiss him, soft and slow. He responds instantly, his hand coming up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs against my lips.

I smile. “So are you.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. For a moment, I think he sees it, the secrets I’m keeping, the worry I can’t quite hide. But then he smiles, that rare, unguarded smile that makes my chest ache, and the moment passes.

“Stay,” he says. “Let me take you to dinner after my appointment. Somewhere no one will recognize us.”

I nod, pushing the worry aside. “I’d like that.”

For now, the secrets can wait.

Chapter Five

Sierra

The engagement party feels like an elaborate performance, one where everyone except me seems to know their lines. A live orchestra plays softly in the background. Servers weave effortlessly through the sea of impeccably dressed guests carrying champagne and delicate hors d’oeuvres.

And every conversation revolves around how perfect Marco and my mother supposedly are together. Smiles are exchanged, congratulations are offered, and I stand among them all, wondering how many people would still be celebrating if they knew what I suspect.

Weeks ago, I could barely force myself to remain in the same room as Marco. Now, strangely enough, my anger toward my mother’s decision has dulled, not because I approve of it, but because someone else has steadily occupied my thoughts instead.

Royal. It’s become impossible to deny.

He has slipped into every quiet moment of my day, every late-night thought, and every plan for the future I never expected to make with another person. Loving him was never part of the plan. In fact, getting close to him wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

Yet somewhere between it all, he became my favorite place to escape. That realization should make me happy. Instead, it terrifies me. Because the longer I wait to tell him the truth, the more devastating that truth becomes.

Unable to bear another congratulatory speech, I quietly excuse myself and retreat to the downstairs powder room. The silence is immediate, replacing the orchestra with the soft hum of the ventilation system.

As I stand before the marble vanity and stare at my reflection, I smooth a hand over my emerald gown. I touch up my lipstick more out of habit than necessity, my thoughts racing faster than I can organize them.

Over the last week, my priorities shifted. My mother’s engagement still hurts. And the possibility that she’s marrying the man responsible for my father’s death still keeps me awake at night. But now another fear eclipses it entirely.

What happens when Royal finds out I’ve been lying to him? I close my eyes. Tonight has to be the night. Marco’s office is only a short walk from the ballroom. If I can find one piece of evidence linking him to my father’s death, I’ll finally tell Royal everything. He deserves the truth.

Decision made, I square my shoulders and step back into the hallway. The ballroom is alive when I return, couples swaying across the dance floor beneath glittering lights. Before I can disappear into the crowd, someone gently catches my hand.

“Sierra.”

I turn to find Riccardo smiling warmly. “May I?”

He gestures toward the dance floor. I hesitate only a moment before placing my hand in his.