Serafia tried not to chuckle. She was certain a similar conversation was taking place all over the room. There were easily thirty bright-eyed girls here with their parents. All were after the same prize. Serafia might be the only single woman in the room who wasn’t on the hunt. She had no interest in competing with a bunch of little girls for Gabriel’s attention.
When Gabriel reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by his father and Patrick Rowling. They escorted him over to a raised dais on the far side of the room. They took their seats there and the crowd gathered for a receiving line. Everyone was excited for their chance to be introduced to the new king.
Serafia took advantage of the distraction to go to the empty bar. She got glasses of wine for them both, hugging the edge of the room to deliver the drink to Gabriel. As she got close, Patrick was introducing his sons, William and James, to Gabriel and his father. Will was Patrick’s heir apparent to the oil and real estate empire they’d built. James, like Gabriel, was the second son, the spare heir, even though he was born only minutes after his twin brother.
Neither of the men looked particularly happy to be here tonight. Even then, they seemed more comfortable than Gabriel. He kept cycling between a stiff regal pose, a slightly slumped-over bored stance and a fidgety anxious carriage that made it obvious to Serafia that he was very uncomfortable. Perhaps a glass of wine would be enough to relax him without loosening his tongue too much.
Out of the corner of her eye, Serafia spied one of the party’s many servers. The petite girl with chin-length black hair was lurking along the edge of the room, her gaze focused fully on the Rowling brothers as they greeted the king.
It took a moment, but Serafia was finally able to wave her over. As a model, she was used to towering over people, but the server was probably close to five feet tall, a little pixie of a thing with sparkling dark eyes that immediately caught Serafia’s attention. On her immaculately pressed black shirt, she wore a small brass nametag that read Catalina.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Would you please take this wine to Prince Gabriel?” Serafia placed the wine on her tray.
Catalina took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course,” she said, immediately departing. Well trained, she waited until Will and James were escorted away, slipping over quietly to deliver the drink, then disappearing so quickly that some people might not have even seen her.
Gabriel took a heavy sip of the wine, searching Serafia out in the crowd. When his gaze lit on her, Serafia felt a chill run down her spine. Goose bumps rose across her bare arms, making her rub them self-consciously. He winked at her, and before she could prompt him to smile, he broke out his practiced grin and turned to the next family being presented.
Serafia had to admit she was pleased with the results of her work. In only a week, they had managed to smooth over his rough edges and mold him into a man fit to be royalty. As she watched him interact with the Gomez family and the young and beautiful Dita, she couldn’t help the pang of jealousy inside her.
Perhaps she had done too good a job. She had polished away all the reasons she needed to stay far, far away from Gabriel Montoro.
* * *
Gabriel was exhausted. All he’d done for the last hour was get introduced to people, but he was done. He was tired of smiling, tired of greeting people. It wasn’t as if he was going to be able to remember a single name once each person turned away and the next was presented.
Unfortunately there were hours left in the night. Now started the dancing and the mingling. With the formalities out of the way, people would seek him out for more casual discussions. The ladies would expect him to solicit a dance or two.
He did none of those things. Instead he sought out another glass a wine and a few bites from the buffet of canapés and fresh fruits. He was hoping to find Serafia, who had disappeared at some point, but instead his father cornered him at the baked brie.
“What do you think of William?”
William? Gabriel went through the two hundred names he’d just heard and drew a blank.
“William Rowling, Patrick’s oldest son,” Rafael clarified, seemingly irritated with Gabriel for dismissing the Rowlings so easily.
“Oh,” Gabriel said, taking a sip of wine. He refrained from mentioning to his father that he couldn’t tell the two brothers apart. That would just agitate him. “He seemed very nice. Why? Are you trying to fix me up with him? He’s really not my type, Dad.”
“Gabriel,” Rafael said in a warning tone. “I was thinking about him and Bella.”
Gabriel tried not to frown at his father. All this royalty nonsense was going to his father’s head if he thought he could start arranging marriages and no one would question it. “I think Bella would have a great deal more to say on the subject than I would.”