Page 33 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

A dark-haired, pale-skinned male with deep-blue eyes barrels out of the lift.

He’s practically dripping from a recent shower, his already tight team-branded T-shirt clinging extra hard to his torso in places.

His low-slung jeans appear to have been tugged on as a courtesy to public decency laws, because he’s missed the top button. And he’s barefoot.

Caden Brenin Hernandez.

“I cut out early,” he gustily announces. “But we’ve already won.”

Taylor is on her feet — shifter fast — and leaping into his arms before he makes it more than two steps into the owner’s box. He tucks her close with a hand under her ass as he continues to barrel into the room.

His deep-blue gaze zeroes in on me. Only then do I see the purple undertone.

Caden is awry, like me. And something about his essence tugs all the other energy in the small space to him. Some sort of charisma, I assume— even as I’m certain I’m immune to it.

That’s a little quirk of my own abilities— a latent immunity to most essence-wrought spells, charms, and castings.

Most, but not all. If I allow the contact, my father can speak to me mind-to-mind.

And Armin tugged me to him with telekinesis, saving my life— or at least saving me from greater harm— on a few occasions.

The last time, as recently as that Whistler ski trip.

Taylor slides down Caden’s body, slipping her hand into Lee’s, who has risen to tug the shifter away from the famous footballer with a slight murmur of disapproval.

Caden keeps his gaze on me, crossing swiftly over and around the couch. He sweeps into a low bow that becomes a crouch as he plucks my hand off my knee — touching me without permission — to brush a kiss over the back of my hand.

“Viscount,” I say. His lips across my skin are soft, warm.

“Your Royal Highness.”

The press of his essence is momentarily stifling, though I assume that’s unintentional. Because otherwise, he’s effectively assaulting me, and I can’t fathom why he’d wish to do so.

My own energy shifts, automatically and naturally compensating.

A whisper of disconcertion runs through the other essence-wielders gathered around us.

Caden partially straightens, still crouched before me but looking up and making direct eye contact. “You’re even more striking in person,” he says.

That observation is tinged with a confusion that I pick up via our skin-to-skin contact — which tells me the words aren’t necessarily a compliment.

Is his essence triggering my own latent abilities?

Caden’s eyes widen, then narrow suspiciously. He pulls his hand from mine, looking down at it as if I’ve somehow scarred him with my touch.

Something nasty — another emotion I’m barely holding at bay — uncurls in me. “It’s not my touch that’s assaulting everyone in the room,” I snap.

Caden jerks back from me, letting me know how inadvertent his reaction to me — that leak of his potent charisma — has been.

Eleanor and the two royal guards, Roz and Greg, all shift closer to me.

I instantly feel like an absolute asshole, completely unforgiving, ungracious. Purple-eyed essence-wielders are not numerous. We’re rare enough that Caden might actually have no idea how his own essence reacts to being in the same room with another awry.

The rest of his bond group crowd around Caden’s back. Gentle touches dance across his shoulders, back, and arms. He stills, then relaxes.

I shouldn’t have used the word ‘assaulting.’ I’m not sure why Caden’s presence bothers me that much more than Noah’s did the day of the charity reading — the only other unknown awry I’ve recently been in contact with.

Caden clears his throat. “My apologies, Your Royal Highness. My reaction … even in your brother’s presence, I haven’t been so …” He shakes his head, frowning.

“I’m entirely at fault,” I say, my voice unnaturally canted even to my own ears. “I have little of my brother’s natural grace or easy … presence.”

The members of the Hernandez group arrayed behind Caden glance between themselves.

“That’s not … please, Your Highness. I was eager to meet you. I haven’t met many of the awry, and you are …” He swallows. “I wasn’t expecting to … I’m very settled with my bond group, and my visceral reaction to you was completely … I’m sorry my explanation is … lacking —”

“Again, it’s for me to apologize.” I deliberately turn to Diaz. “Now that Caden is here, I presume there is a media … scrum to attend?”

“Of course,” she says, frowning. “But we would never expect you to —”

I smile broadly, even though I feel half empty inside. “Why else would I come all this way, intruding upon your gathering, if not to help with the charity event? A few pictures, yes? After you announce the donation amounts, Diaz? Your team must have a rough estimate from the ticket sales.”

“Yes … of course …” Diaz stammers .

Lee exchanges a panicked look with William, but I ignore it as I stand to step around Caden, Eleanor and my guards at my back.

I allowed just a small part of myself to contemplate that safe haven Lee offered. But Caden’s reaction isn’t one of interest or even compatibility. Lee might be the nominal head of the Hernandez bond group, but it’s clear that Caden is their crux.

I have no idea why they’d want me. They clearly don’t need me.

Greg steps ahead of me, hitting the call button for the lift as he murmurs quietly into his comms, likely alerting our driver of our movement. The doors slide open and I step inside with Eleanor and Roz as the Hernandez group reorganizes behind me.

My smile is firmly fixed in place as I turn back to face them. One of their security team holds open the door. Taylor has her arms wrapped around Caden from behind. William is holding one of Caden’s hands. Lee converses quietly with Diaz.

Caden tries to meet my gaze as it passes over him, opening his mouth to speak, but I get there first. “It was a pleasure to meet you all.”

Miller steps forward, crossing past the security guard holding the doors to stand next to Eleanor. Lee gives Diaz a slight shove as she joins us in the lift as well. The security guard withdraws his hand, stepping just inside the doors as they slide closed.

As a shifter, possibly a bear, the security guard is large enough to block the entire door. He crowds us all together— slightly more than I’m currently comfortable with.

Both Miller and Diaz stiffen, instantly stepping as far to the left — and away from me — as possible.

My own essence might be prickling off me.

Eleanor murmurs, “ Perhaps skipping the —”

“No,” I say coolly. “Why else does anyone invite me anywhere?”

“Please,” Diaz whispers. “This is not what we wanted. Truly.”

“You …” Miller adds, just as quiet but more firmly. “We wanted to meet you, Your Highness. To be blunt, we don’t have any need to have you —”

“I understand,” I say stiffly. “My father is very persuasive.”

“Oh, gods,” Diaz whispers. “That’s not … I mean, of course, we’d never refuse, but —”

“William and I wouldn’t have flown out,” Miller interjects, getting slightly terse now. “Just for a ball. Diaz would have attended, maybe with Taylor and Caden.” The tech genius’s gaze settles on me. “They’re the more … public facing of us.”

I keep my gaze steadily on the doors, which somehow still haven’t opened … because I realize no one has selected a floor.

“Lobby?” I ask archly, knowing that I’m the asshole in this situation but not managing to fix that.

Diaz lunges forward and hits the button for one of the lower levels.

I deliberately angle my head to meet Miller’s eye. “We understand each other perfectly, Mx. Hernandez. You are all very lucky to have found each other.”

Miller shakes their head. “I don’t think you … I think something about Caden gave you an impression that we don’t … want … you.”

“You don’t know me.” Relief floods through me as the doors finally open, freeing me from this claustrophobic moment.

The massive security guard lumbers forward. Diaz quickly steps after the guard, though she glances back at me, then at Miller with wide eyes.

Eleanor tucks my arm around hers, leading me swiftly after Diaz. Roz tucks behind us. Up the corridor, Greg is already waiting, having taken the stairs.

“Please. Give us a chance to get to know you,” Miller says, stuffing their hands in their pockets and remaining in the lift behind us.

I don’t answer. Mostly because I have no idea how anyone is ever going to truly know me when it’s glaringly obvious that I barely understand myself.

We move swiftly as Diaz leads us to wherever the press conference is set up. I presume Caden will follow after us as well, likely after I’ve made my appearance.

Eleanor leans into me, whispering tightly, “I don’t like any of this. I don’t like speaking against your father, but —”

“Don’t.” My voice breaks, and I have to take a moment to stop myself from splintering completely. “I would never ask you to side against him. Especially when he’s right. I’m not strong enough as I am.”

“Mirth, please. That’s not … none of us think that …”

Eleanor doesn’t get a chance to finish her thought because we turn into the press room, and she has to let me step forward on my own.

I do, smiling sweetly for the photos and vid the photographers are already snapping and streaming, acknowledging the shouts of “Princess, Princess! … Over here, Princess!” one at a time, so they each feel like they’ve had a moment with me.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

“Who’s your favorite player?”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Princess! Princess! Look here.”

“Are you and Viscount Brenin an item? ”

“Do you miss your brother?”

“Can you give us any updates on the inquiry into Prince Armin’s death?”

I tuck myself slightly behind Diaz, ceding the announcements and questions to her, but still smiling with my hands lightly clasped before me.

And I just … abide. I abide because I’m not actually capable of ignoring. I never have been.