Page 6 of Owned By Royal

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“You almost were.” She rolls her eyes, and I continue, “I’ve missed arguing with you.”

“We’ve spoken exactly twice.”

“Quality over quantity.”

She laughs softly before realizing she has and quickly composes herself again. “I should go.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

Neither of us moves. The air changes, becoming quieter somehow despite the faint sounds of conversation filtering through the walls from elsewhere in the house.

“I’ve thought about you,” I admit.

She blinks. “You shouldn’t.”

“I know. But I can’t seem to help it.”

Her breathing changes almost imperceptibly. “This is a bad idea.”

“It probably is.”

She searches my face as though trying to decide whether I’m joking. “I’m not one of the women people write gossip columns about.”

“I know.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough to recognize that most people underestimate you.”

That catches her off guard. “What makes you think that?”

“The same thing that tells me the woman standing in front of me isn’t the spoiled socialite everyone assumes she is.”

For the first time since I walked into the room, she looks genuinely unsettled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not.”

I step closer. She doesn’t retreat.

“I’d still like the chance to find out,” I say.

Her gaze drops briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes, and that tiny movement is all the encouragement I need. I cup her cheeks and kiss her. It’s not gentle, not at first. It’s months of wanting, all the unspoken confessions and forbidden thoughts crashing together.

She kisses me back, hungry, desperate, and for one suspended moment, the rest of the world disappears. Leaving only the palpable current, racing heart as our tongues tangles, and the unmistakable realization that whatever has existed between us since that gala is very real.

Then she pulls away so abruptly that I almost lose my balance.

“No. We can’t do this.”

I frown. “Why not?”

She looks at me as though the answer should be obvious. “We’re going to be related.”

I laugh, low. “We’re not related yet. And even if we were, you think I care?”

Her brown eyes flash. “Well, I care.” She takes another step backward. “This can’t happen again.”