Page 4 of Owned By Royal

“You look thrilled to be here.”

“I’d rather be getting tattooed with a rusty needle.”

He chuckles. “That bad?”

“It’s Dad.”

“Fair enough.”

Riccardo has always understood without needing an explanation. We grew up under the same roof, listened to the same impossible expectations, and watched our father become colder after our mother died.

The difference is that Riccardo learned how to navigate Marco’s world while I found every excuse imaginable to stay outside it. He runs family meetings, attends board dinners, and plays the role of devoted eldest son because one day he’ll inherit everything.

I spend my days tattooing at 4R Ink and my nights behind a bank of computer monitors helping my brothers hunt monsters the legal system refuses to touch. Dad calls the tattoo shop my hobby. I let him believe that because the less he knows about my real life, the better.

“I assume he didn’t tell you what this dinner is about.”

Riccardo shakes his head. “Just said it was important. And with our extended family here too, then it has to be like he said.”

“Everything is important to him,” I mutter.

Before my brother can answer, movement near the sitting room catches my attention, and every coherent thought disappears.

Sierra.

She’s standing beside her mother in a fitted emerald dress that somehow makes her brown eyes seem warmer than I remember. Her blonde hair falls in loose waves over one shoulder. And despite the polite smile she’s offering whoever she’s speaking to, there’s a distance in her expression that wasn’t there four months ago.

I haven’t stopped thinking about her since the charity gala. I still remember the way she challenged me without hesitation. The stubborn tilt of her chin, and the way she looked at me right before my phone interrupted us.

If River hadn’t needed surveillance updates on the operation we were running that night, I would’ve kissed her. The thought has replayed in my head more times than I’d care to admit. She notices me watching.

For a heartbeat neither of us moves. Then she looks away first. Interesting.

“So that’s why you’ve gone quiet,” Riccardo murmurs beside me.

“What?”

“You’ve been staring at Chase Thorne’s daughter.”

“No. I’m wondering why we’re having dinner with them.”

“Sure.”

I ignore him because Sierra glances back in my direction, and for the briefest moment our eyes meet again before our father’s booming voice echoes through the foyer.

“There you are.”

Marco strides into the room wearing another perfectly tailored suit, looking twenty years younger than his age thanks to expensive grooming and an ego large enough to sustain him indefinitely. People describe him as charismatic. They aren’t wrong. They simply don’t know what lies beneath the charm.

“Dinner is ready.”

We move into the dining room together, taking our assigned seats around a table long enough to host a small conference. Conversation remains pleasantly superficial through the first course. My father discusses business, Yvonne compliments the chef, and Riccardo contributes just enough to keep Marco satisfied.

Sierra barely speaks. Every now and then I catch her studying the room as though she’d rather be anywhere else. I know the feeling. By the time dessert is served, my patience is wearing thin, which usually means my father is preparing to reveal the real reason we’re all here.

He clears his throat. “I have an announcement.”

There it is. Yvonne smiles brightly beside him while everyone else looks toward the head of the table.