Page 3 of The Wanted Prince

“Ruling’s half diplomacy. One daft remark…”

Dom poked his head out. “I knew that was too far the second I said it. It’s this new litigation class, this… shock and awe. You’ve got to offend people to get them to think. To make them question why they believe what they do. I got a little too into it, so, uh… yeah. I’m sorry.”

Carlo softened immediately, his stance going loose. He’d never had it in him to stay peeved at Dom.

“Life’s not a courtroom,” he said, then cocked his head. A lively tune had struck up far below, in the ballroom. Laughter drifted up with it, and a wave of chatter. Carlo blew out a long breath. “And I think that’s our cue.”

Dom groaned. “Do we have to?”

Carlo waggled his brows. “What about Dora?”

“I’m not really going to dance with her. She’s barely eighteen.”

“And you’re, what, twenty-two?”

I straightened my jacket and smoothed down my hair, Dom and Carlo still bickering, scoring points off each other. They’d always been that way since they were small, always teasing and squabbling, always side by side. I’d envied them that, their easy banter. I, as the eldest, had never joined in, wanting to seem more grown-up, more mature. Wanting to set an example and make Father proud. And now we were grown and they still had that ease, and I was that little bit off to one side.

“Let’s go,” I said, more sharply than I’d meant to. I smiled to offset the bite in my tone. “Can’t keep Father waiting on his big night.”

We headed down all together to the grand ballroom, the music swelling as we strode down the hall. The guests quieted at the sight of us and flitted to the sides, making way for their princes. We acknowledged their courtesy, a nod here, a smile there. The big ballroom doors stood open before us, and the herald announced us as we strode in.

“Their Royal Highnesses Alessandro, Carlo, and Domenico Montañez, Princes of Santaviedo.”

A murmur of welcome rippled through the crowd. Father stood briefly, to acknowledge our entrance. Soon, he’d make his speech, and the ball would start in earnest. Meanwhile, I surveyed the glittering crowd, enough jewels in this one room to fund a small country’s war chest. I spotted the duke holding court near the staircase, bothering the ladies with tales of back when. Dora was up near the front with her aunts, anxiously awaiting her moment with the king. But the one face I couldn’t find — which I’d denied even wanting to — the face I was searching for was Laura Cardona’s. Of course I couldn’t ask her to dance. I couldn’t even dally with her beyond a quick greeting, at least not where anyone might see and comment. But still, my heart leaped at each head of black hair, then plunged again when it wasn’t hers.

Carlo leaned in. “I don’t think they’re here yet.”

I brushed him off. “Can’t think who you mean.”

“Young love,” sighed Dom, in his Father Time voice.

I turned my back on him, pretending not to hear. It wasn’t like that with me and Laura. I was excited, was all, to see an old friend. Someone who’d always just understood. Whatever few minutes I could steal with Laura, I knew for those moments I’d feel like myself. Completely at ease, no airs, no pretense.

Was it so wrong of me to crave those few moments?

CHAPTER 2

LAURA

“Don’t fidget,” said Mother.

I glanced round the car to see who she meant, because no way was she talking to me. I couldn’t have fidgeted if I’d tried, laced up as I was and dripping with gems. It was all I could do to smile and keep breathing.

“Your hair’s coming loose.” She did mean me. She swooped in like a vulture to peck at my curls, twisting and teasing them back into place. My brother Hugo was no help, smirking into his hand. My father was texting, or pretending to text. Whatever it took to stay out of the drama.

“There. That’s much better.” Mother sat back. Then she leaned in again to pluck at my necklace. “I still wish you’d gone with the emerald choker.”

Hugo made a snorting sound. Dad’s brows shot up. That choker had once been my thrice-great grandmother’s — the last Cardona queen of Santaviedo. Wearing our former crown jewels to a Montañez affair… well, as shots across the bow went, that’d be a loud one. Which was, of course, Mother’s whole plan, to steal the king’s thunder. She loved her limelight. She had no ambitions as the throne went, no thoughts of ruling or restoring our name. Only of seeing her own name in lights.

“I can’t breathe,” I groaned.

“If you’re speaking, you’re breathing.”

I leaned back, lightheaded. My corset was pinching. The sparkle off my bodice was making my eyes hurt. I wasn’t sure what Mother had paid for my dress, but I guessed it could cover a month’s rent back home. Two or three, maybe, with its crusting of gems. Frustration surged through me, and I bit my lip hard. I hadn’t come all this way to be Mother’s dress-up doll, all primped and powdered and paraded around. I’d come to spend time with her, and with Dad and Hugo, but my visit so far had been nothing but parties. Two days from now, I’d be headed back to New York, and I still had no clue how anyone’s life was.

“Hugo,” I tried. “How’s things at work?”

Hugo pulled a sour face, which surprised me. Only a year ago, he’d been gung-ho for work. Now he sighed, weary, and shook his head.

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