Page 31 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

M IRTH

I’m barely one step off the lift and into the owner’s private stadium booth before a statuesque blond, blue-eyed, tanned woman in her early forties is striding toward me with a massive smile and a bejeweled hand extended to shake my own.

Eleanor, my escort for the day, slides in front of me and shakes the woman’s hand in my place.

Roz and Greg peel off to stand on either side of the elevator.

Because Eleanor, my combat-grade, poison-specialist mage babysitter, needs no backup.

Theoretically, I could wipe out the entire stadium on my own, of course. They would all die laughing, and some other awry would likely have to put me down — most probably my father.

Theoretically. If I hadn’t refused to access that power anymore.

“You must be Lee,” Eleanor says coolly. She’s definitely being a bit of a retaliatory asshole by only using the first name of the head of the Hernandez bond group. “Thank you so much for the invitation. The new stadium is … impressive.”

We’re in Cardiff, Wales, where the new uber-modern sporting facility has been built in just over a year and has a seating capacity of ninety-five thousand fans.

The new owners tore the old stadium down to the ground, forcing their then-championship team to bounce around between smaller stadiums for a season.

Lee flicks a disconcerted gaze from Eleanor to me.

Four others, presumably Lee’s chosen, hover in the seating area behind her.

I was unaware that they’d all be in attendance— somewhat overwhelmingly.

I ignore the panic their presence evokes, though I swear I can feel it threatening to leak through my skin as I smile politely and deliberately fold my hands before me.

Taking my hint, Lee waves her free hand, smiling broadly again. “Right. Of course, silly me, I forgot.” Her accent is pure American. Then she bows slightly instead of curtsying. “So pleased you could join us, Your Royal Highness.”

Eleanor turns her head in my direction in an attempt to disguise her response to the bow.

She is seriously unsuccessful. I’m honestly not even sure why the combat mage is my escort for the day, except that Anne is crazy swamped with pulling everything together for the rapidly approaching matching event.

Unfortunately, not only is Eleanor a stickler for antiquated rules, she hates anything having to do with … well, people.

Lee offers me a wink then, clearly broadcasting that her attempts to ruffle my guardian’s feathers are deliberate. I have to quash my own smile by casting my gaze around the plush, gleaming owner’s suite .

Apparently, California-based tech gurus can rebrand European football as effortlessly as they seem to have done with most modern tech devices.

Because the Hernandez bond group took their newly acquired team to the Premier League in their first year of ownership, despite the stadium hopping.

Now they’re poised to win that league by the end of the current season.

The rebranded team is now Caerdyf, but pronounced the same. To avoid confusion, I presume. That and to move more merchandise, though I have no idea how many jerseys they would have to sell to recoup the stadium’s cost. Or the bill for the wages of their exceedingly famous players.

This meeting had been in my calendar for four months, but I only confirmed my attendance a week ago. We’re late arriving. The game is already well underway. Based on the score predominately featured on one of the overhead screens, the home team is up by a goal.

The owner’s suite is less than a third full, with nary a reporter or photographer in sight. That’s surprising to me, because I would have thought my attendance would be …

I meet Lee’s gaze. “You were expecting me, weren’t you? I mean … me … not my brother.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, her smile softening as she angles her shoulders toward the group still hovering behind her.

“William and Miller flew in early when we realized we might have a chance to meet you ahead of the equinox ball. Diaz, who you’ve already met, of course, and Taylor were already here, looking after Caden.

You know how he can be when left to …” She trails off, perhaps realizing she’s sharing too much.

Or, gazing into my own eyes, she realizes that talking about how unruly the most famous awry in the world can be to another well-known awry might not endear her to me.

Caden Brenin, the newest member of the Hernandez bond group, is a viscount who claims he can trace his ancestry back to the last king of Wales.

He also has purple eyes. Well, a very deep blue with a hint of purple.

I’ve never seen those eyes in person, though Armin was a fan.

He followed Caden’s career, attending in-person games when he played with United. Multiple times.

All of that was before Caden bonded with the Hernandez tech mogul group, led by Lee— and they bought him an entire football team. Perhaps as a bonding gift?

“I’ve not met Caden,” I say politely, filling the space that’s lingered after Lee trailed off. “But I’m very much looking forward to the game.”

The match currently underway isn’t part of the regular season. I wouldn’t have travelled all the way to Wales for it otherwise. It’s an exhibition game, with partial proceeds going to three charities, including a teen outreach founded by Diaz Hernandez, self-made health-and-beauty maven.

Also, tired of being blindsided by potential suitors at public events, I finally looked at the list and quickly accepted a number of invitations that would put me in contact with some of them.

Casual contact, hopefully. I hadn’t, however, thought that my accepting the invitation to the match would precipitate the attendance of the entire bond group.

Presumably tired of hovering behind Lee along with the three others of the bond group I haven’t met, Diaz steps close enough to brush shoulders with the tall American.

Before Eleanor can herd me to one side again, I offer my hand to Diaz, saying for my guardian’s benefit, “Diaz, lovely to see you again.”

The tall, dark-skinned brunette in her early thirties wraps her hand around mine, smiling softly.

Her makeup is understated — glossy plum lips with a slight shimmer of eyeshadow— and her hair is a vibrant plume of curls.

Like Lee, she’s dressed upscale casual in jeans, a designer sweater, and statement jewelry.

Next to them both, I feel like an overly primped doll in a pastel-pink plaid skirt that falls to just below my knees, a beige sweater, the ever-present pearls, and Armin’s emerald ring, of course and always.

I most definitely don’t want to be comparing myself to the insanely gorgeous model-actress Taylor, lingering farther back in ripped jeans, a midriff-baring printed T-shirt, and massive sunglasses.

Diaz squeezes my hand slightly, letting me know that I’m still holding on to her. But when I loosen my grip, she keeps hold of me, leaning slightly closer to murmur, “You’ll need a vacation after this … please make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

I blink at her in surprise. Then I flush, chagrined at my own reaction. As if my entire life isn’t one privilege layered over another. “Thank you.”

“Will you come sit with us? There are nibbles and champagne …” Diaz glances over her shoulder.

To my surprise, because apparently I’m a prejudiced asshole who assumed that such menial tasks would be beneath her, Taylor darts over to the small kitchen area, grabbing a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and expertly yanking out the cork.

The figures I’ve initially mistaken for servers are actually other security, given the way they’ve stepped over to consult with the detail backing Eleanor and me. There are no other guests.

Before I can process the implications of the Hernandezes not bothering to use my presence as at least social media fodder, another of the group I haven’t met steps forward .

Slightly taller, slightly more tan, and darker blond than Lee, he stops at his bond mate’s side, offering me a slight smile and a more appropriate shallow dip of his head.

“William,” Lee says, still smiling gently. “My second. In all aspects. I’ve only managed to drag him away from the office and to the United Kingdom for the first time because of the chance to meet you.”

I make the easy guess that he’s another tech mage. “And how are you enjoying the UK so far, William?”

He smiles again in a slightly self-deprecating way. “Well, let’s see. I’ve seen the tarmac, customs, and the interior of the car, as it was still slightly too dark to enjoy the scenery. Then the corridors here … so …”

I grin, surprised at how easily the genuine smile comes to me.

Diaz pats William’s shoulder condescendingly. “Yes, yes, poor boy on your luxury private jet.”

My gaze shifts to the slighter figure who’s been hovering at the back of the nearest couch. The final member of the bond group, who I don’t know by sight. “And you must be Miller?”

Miller flinches, slightly startled as green eyes that are vibrant against golden-brown skin meet mine. I was expecting another tech mage, but this is a shifter, I realize.

“Oh, yes.” Lee rushes in to fill the space. “The true genius behind all our tech. Miller flew in with William this morning.”

Not certain why, I reach my hand out to Miller, and the shifter flows into the space to glide a hand over mine. Touching me just barely enough to pass for a handshake.

“They … them,” Miller murmurs. Their pronouns. “And do I call you Princess?” they ask, still in that quiet tone, though their grip firms.

“Some do,” I say.

“But you don’t prefer it?”

I open my mouth, expecting some typical platitude to fall off my tongue. But instead, I say, “My preferences don’t outrank etiquette.”

Miller tilts their head, and a pleased smile flits around their lips. We’re still holding hands. “Not even in private?”