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‘Still?’ Rafe arched a brow. He knew Berenia was causing problems but he’d thought that would have died down by now. ‘So he didn’t marry their revered Princess last year. They need to move on and get over it.’
‘There’s more to it than that. Santara has advanced much further on the world stage than Berenia, which brings its own set of resentments.’
‘Yes, but still their incompetence can hardly be our problem.’
‘I don’t know the ins and outs of it but... Oh, there’s Jag, looking for us. I was supposed to find you so we can get the official photos out of the way.’
‘Lead on,’ Rafe said with amusement. He’d smile and play nice so his brother would have nothing to grumble about at the end of the night. Then tomorrow he’d fly home and resume his normal life, which wasn’t dictated by pomp or protocol.
‘Rafa.’ Jag greeted him with a hint of stiffness. ‘I wasn’t sure you were going to make it this year.’
‘Never miss it. Especially if there’s a French heiress to be had.’
‘Rafa!’ Milena scolded under her breath. ‘You promised.’
Rafe laughed. ‘Don’t worry. Jag knows I’m joking.’
‘Jag hopes you’re joking,’ his brother muttered. ‘And just because you made a career out of annoying our father don’t feel that you have to carry the tradition on with me because I’m King.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Rafe grinned. ‘I hear you’re having some issues with the Berenians.’
‘Don’t mention that word. I swear they’re the most stubborn people on earth.’
A photographer stopped in front of them. ‘The lighting is probably better over by the far column, Your Majesty; do you mind moving in that direction?’
‘Not at all,’ Jag said, casting his eyes across the sea of chattering guests until he spotted what he was looking for. He crooked his finger, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth, softening his face in a way Rafe had rarely seen before. Following his line of sight, he watched as Jag’s new wife made her way towards them. Clearly pregnant, in a slim-fitting gown, she looked beautiful and only had eyes for his brother.
When she reached his side, Rafe could have sworn the rest of the room dissolved for both of them. Bemused, he wondered what it felt like to want someone that much, and then decided he didn’t want to know.
‘Good evening, Your Majesty,’ Rafe greeted his new Queen. ‘You’re looking as beautiful as ever.’ He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Should you ever tire of my stiff-necked brother, you only have to—’
‘Rafa—’ Jag began warningly.
Queen Regan laughed softy and placed her hand on his brother’s arm. ‘Always the devil, Rafaele.’ She smiled at him. ‘It’s a skill to make a pregnant woman blush. But where is your date tonight? I understand you’re seeing a Spanish supermodel. Ella? Or Esme?’
‘Estela,’ Rafe corrected.
‘My apologies.’ She glanced around curiously. ‘Did you bring her with you?’
‘Unfortunately, we had a difference in priorities and parted ways.’
‘And you’re clearly crestfallen.’ Regan arched a brow, a playful glow in her eyes. ‘Do I want to know what those priorities were?’
‘If you two are quite finished flirting,’ Jag said with an edge of menace in his voice, ‘the photographer is waiting.’
‘Sorry.’ Regan threaded her arm through his. ‘But I’m a married woman now. I have to live vicariously and Rafaele always has such interesting stories.’
‘I’ll give you an interesting story later on,’ Jag promised throatily. ‘For now just smile and imagine it.’
‘Whatever they have, I don’t want it,’ Rafe grouched, lining up on the other side of his sister.
‘It’s called love,’ Milena said impishly. ‘And I can’t wait to experience it.’
‘Just don’t fall in love with anyone I haven’t checked out first,’ Rafe warned sternly.
‘Oh, fiddle.’ She waved him away. ‘You and Jag are as bad as each other. You’re more alike than you might think.?
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