Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,53
and guests. Two enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting light down over the center dance floor where a few dancers gathered to waltz.
Already, a collection of guests mingled over extensive food tables and a wine fountain, with Latvala Royals liberally interspersed. The King and Queen were already in attendance, flanked by diplomats in fine suits and cordial smiles. Natalia, with her petulant face and haughty demeanor, stood amongst a throng of what Chey presumed were admirers, drawing laughs from the men along with appreciative glances over her body. She didn't appear drunk—so far. Paavo and Aurora, engaged with an elderly, affluent looking couple, both had wine in their hands and pleasant expressions on their faces.
Chey wondered at Mattias entering after the King and Queen. Shouldn't he have arrived before? Clueless over Royal events and staging, Chey waited for Mattias to lead her forward. In the few seconds since they'd entered the room, no one had, so far, glanced their way.
“His Royal Highness, Mattias Ahtissari,” a voice said over well hidden speakers.
And then just like that, Mattias and Chey were in the proverbial spotlight. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to sink through the floor or faint. Many pairs of eyes swung their way. Struggling to act like she belonged on Mattias's arm, she pasted what she hoped was a natural looking smile on her mouth. Why on earth had she agreed to this?
Mattias, smooth and cultured, finally advanced her deeper into the room.
Chey caught flickers of shock on the King and Queen's faces. On Paavo and Aurora's. Afraid to glance at Natalia, Chey studiously avoided eye contact with her. If the others were all but gaping, Chey figured Natalia would be outright scowling. The guests greeted Mattias with warm enthusiasm, apparently unaware of the sudden tension his arrival had created within the Royal family. He shook hands with important looking men and kissed the knuckles of their wives. Several times he introduced her as 'Miss Sinclair', and Chey extended her courtesies with every bit of grace she owned. The titles Mattias delivered—Ambassador, Liaison, Prince—all went right over Chey's head. She would never remember them all. That other Royalty was present in the room shouldn't have shocked her, yet it did.
Approaching the King and Queen, Mattias presented her with casual elegance.
“Father, Mother, I'm sure you remember Miss Sinclair,” he said with a glance aside to Chey.
Flustered, made more so by the way Aksel and Helina pinned her with sharp looks, Chey curtsied carefully and straightened. “Your Highnesses.”
What was she supposed to say after that? How the hell are ya? What about them Seahawks? Unnerved, Chey left her greeting simple.
“Miss Sinclair.” Aksel, though polite, nevertheless projected an air of displeasure. It was the slow way he enunciated each syllable of her name and the hint of warning that matched the stare he leveled on Mattias.
Helina, nostrils flaring, did not deign to acknowledge her.
“If you'll excuse us,” Mattias said with a slight bow of his head. He did not seem the least bit perturbed at the chilly exchange from his parents. Moving away from the Royal pair, Mattias paused when a server with a tray of wine glasses offered them drinks. He picked one up and handed it to Chey.
She accepted it and resisted the urge to gulp the entire thing down at once. After Mattias had his and the server retreated, Chey whispered, “I should kick you right in the shin.”
The resonance of his baritone laugh drew several glances their way. “I dare you,” he whispered back.
Chey gasped. Were they really having this conversation? Right here, right now?
“You should know that I rarely ever turn down a dare. If we weren't where we are, I would absolutely do it.” She sipped her wine. Just then, she caught Natalia's glance by accident. The woman wore a murderous expression. Her companions all stared Chey and Mattias's way, as if trying to figure out what got the Princesses ire up. Feeling puckish and truculent, Chey toasted Natalia with her glass.
In for a penny, in for a pound. If Natalia was behind the attack, then at least Chey could give the girl a real reason to shove her down the stairs.
“You're doing very well,” Mattias said with a subtle switch of subject. “But then, I knew you would.”
“It's not that hard to be cordial, you know. We heathen Americans do possess some diplomatic skill.” She countered his praise with a healthy dose of dry sarcasm.
His shoulders shook with silent laughter. Mattias sipped his