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I smiled for real this time, and then opened my arms for the stunning woman coming toward me. "Hello, Mother."
AntoinetteCastellanowas as beautiful now as she had been at twenty, which was a very, very long time ago. Her long black hair didn't have a single gray hair. Her face was free of wrinkles except for laugh lines at the corners of her dark eyes and they sparkled when she looked at me.
I was always happy to see my parents when they were in town, or when I flew to see them wherever they were around the world. I never went more than a couple of months without seeing them.
I adored my parents.
My mother hugged me tight before leaning back to look up at me. She reached up and pressed her hand against my cheek. "You look pale, darling. Have you been eating?"
"Yes, Mother, I've been eating."
Her brow fluttered.
"I'm fine, Mother. I promise."
My mother worried about me a lot, but she was my mother, and I knew it came from a place of caring, so I tried not to resent it too much.
I turned when I heard a throat clearing and then smiled when I saw my father standing there. If my mother was the perfect example of all that was beautiful in the world, my father was a prime example of everything masculine in the world.
ArmandoCastellanostood at nearly six foot three, a towering man with the muscles to back up his imposing figure. He did have a little gray around his temples, but it only added to his allure.
"Hello, Father."
I received a strong-armed hug from my father before he grabbed both of my biceps and held me back from him, his golden eyes roaming over every inch of my face.
"Your mother is right. You are a bit pale."
I groaned as I let my head fall back on my shoulders. "Uncle Pierre, save me."
The amused chuckle from the man standing behind my father brought another smile to my face. Pierre had been a regular part of my life since a few years after I was born. He was an uncle to me, and the love of my father's very long life.
"I'm sure he is fine, Armando," Pierre said as he stepped up beside my father and wrapped a hand around my father's arm. "Artists are supposed to be angsty, remember?"
My father smiled and patted Pierre's hand. "You're right, of course, my love."
A sigh almost escaped my mouth at the love shining in my father's eyes as he stared down at his lover of twenty plus years, and the way he wrapped an arm around Pierre and pulled him closer as if he couldn't stand the separation one second longer.
The picture was made even more perfect when my mother walked over and stood next to them. While her gaze might not have been filled with the eternal love of my father's, it was filled with love and affection.
"Are those new earrings, Mother?" I asked.
"Yes." My mother smiled as she touched her hand to the teardrop emeralds in her ears. "Pierre got them for me in a little shop in Ireland."
"They're beautiful."
A tinkle of laughter filled the air as my mother looked back at the arm Armando had wrapped around Pierre. "Well, he does have good taste."
He did.
I turned my attention to my father. "Tell me about this conference of yours. Anything interesting happening?" It was the whole reason my parents had flown into the city after all.
My father grunted as he rolled his eyes. "It's going to be a tedious bore."
"The Prince is supposed to be in attendance," Pierre said.
A wrinkle furrowed between my eyebrows as I tried to remember who the current prince was. No one came immediately to mind, but I tended to avoid clan politics like the plague.
"If I remember my history correctly, there is one prince for every country."
