Chapter 23: The Best

Chapter 23: Chapter 23: The Best

Nero stayed at the gala for exactly as long as duty required.

He spoke with the foundation directors, appeared in the photographs they needed for tomorrow’s coverage, listened to a presentation about the rehabilitation center, and spent twenty minutes discussing funding with two ministers who had somehow managed to turn charitable donations into an argument about tax incentives.

By midnight, he had fulfilled every obligation attached to his name.

The formal reception continued downstairs.

Nero did not.

Like most people under thirty who possessed too much money, political influence, or an inherited title, he migrated upward.

The private party occupied the top floor of Vesper House, accessible only through a separate elevator and an invitation list considerably shorter than the one downstairs.

There were no reporters here.

No speeches.

No elderly ministers attempting to corner crown princes beside decorative plants.

The lighting was lower, the music louder, and one entire wall had been opened toward a heated terrace overlooking Altera. The capital stretched beneath them in white and gold, towers rising along the river while traffic moved through the streets like illuminated veins.

Nero had removed his jacket.

He stood near one of the private lounges with the sleeves of his black shirt buttoned neatly at his wrists, talking to three heirs from houses powerful enough that most people would have recognized their surnames.

His hair remained loose.

That alone had already generated enough attention to become irritating.

Melrose Mynatt thought it was perfect.

"He is even prettier in person," Aster whispered beside him.

Melrose gave him an offended look.

"Pretty?"

Aster shrugged delicately. "Fine. Terrifyingly beautiful."

"That is better."

They occupied one of the curved velvet sofas surrounding a low glass table. There were six omegas in their group, although Melrose only genuinely liked two of them and tolerated the rest because appearing alone at parties suggested one had failed socially.

Melrose Mynatt had never failed socially.

At least, not according to Melrose Mynatt.

He came from one of the wealthiest families in eastern Saha. His father owned shipping terminals. His mother came from old nobility. Their name appeared on museums, hospitals, schools, and several buildings nobody in the family had entered since the plaques were installed.

Melrose himself had pale blond hair, blue eyes, a carefully maintained body, and the kind of face people had been complimenting since he was four.

There was absolutely no reason Nero had never noticed him.

Melrose had considered the issue extensively.

The only reasonable explanation was that they had never been properly introduced.

Or Nero had been busy.

Or the Crown Prince was surrounded by people constantly competing for his attention and therefore needed someone sufficiently intelligent to create an opportunity.

Melrose considered himself exceptionally intelligent.

"He was talking about Fitzgeralt downstairs," another omega said.

Melrose’s mouth tightened.

"He wasn’t."

"I saw the clip."

"He said their families know each other."

"He also didn’t deny anything."

Melrose reached for his champagne.

"That means nothing."

Aster looked toward him. "There are photographs."

"There are photographs of Nero with hundreds of people."

"Not like those."

Melrose drank.

He had seen them.

Unfortunately.

Marquis Sebastian Fitzgeralt was objectively attractive, which Melrose found unnecessary. He was also thirty-one, an alpha, permanently irritated-looking, and apparently incapable of appreciating the extraordinary luck involved in having Nero Ezekiel interested in him.

If the rumors were true.

Melrose doubted they were.

Nero was an Enigma. Crown Prince of Saha.

The most powerful secondary gender in existence, born into one of the strongest royal families in the world.

He could have anyone.

Why would he choose a difficult foreign alpha six years older than him?

Especially one who, according to every article Melrose had read that evening, had spent years showing absolutely no interest in becoming involved with Nero.

It was insulting to basic logic.

"He needs an omega anyway," Melrose said.

Aster slowly turned his head.

One of the others laughed. "I don’t think anyone knows what an Enigma needs."

"They still bond."

"That isn’t what I meant."

Melrose ignored him.

Across the room, Nero laughed at something the heir of one of Saha’s northern provinces said.

Melrose watched him.

Nero was taller than almost everyone around him. Even without the formal jacket, he looked unfairly put together, the black shirt fitted across his shoulders and narrow waist. The platinum fastening at his throat caught occasionally beneath the lighting.

His shoes were still ridiculous.

Melrose wanted them on his bedroom floor.

He smiled faintly at the thought.

Aster noticed.

"Oh, no."

Melrose looked at him. "What?"

"You have that expression."

"What expression?"

"The one you had before you convinced Callian Merrow that his fiancé was cheating."

"He was."

"He wasn’t."

"He could have been."

Aster stared at him.

Melrose placed his champagne glass down.

"I only need Nero to actually speak to me."

"You’ve met him."

"At official functions."

"You spoke for four minutes at the spring exhibition."

"That doesn’t count. His mother was standing beside him."

Aster’s eyebrows rose. "You are afraid of Christopher?"

"Everyone with survival instincts is afraid of Christopher."

That, at least, nobody disputed.

Melrose looked toward Nero again.

He had moved closer to the bar.

Duncan Crone remained within sight near the terrace doors, imposing enough that nobody attempted to approach Nero without some consideration first. Hale stood farther away, speaking to another member of security while somehow still watching the room.

They were irritating.

Necessary, perhaps, but irritating.

Melrose had tried twice over the previous year to arrange something less public with Nero.

A dinner invitation through mutual acquaintances had been declined.

The sailing weekend had somehow failed because Nero had gone to Palatine.

A private fashion launch had actually succeeded, only for Christopher to attend with him.

Melrose was tired of waiting for circumstances to cooperate.

He deserved better than circumstances.

His family had everything.

He had everything.

And when Melrose imagined standing beside someone for the rest of his life, he refused to settle for a businessman, a minor noble, or some provincial heir whose greatest achievement was having ancestors clever enough to acquire land.

He deserved the best.

Nero was the best.

The conclusion seemed perfectly straightforward.

Aster was watching him suspiciously.

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing."

"That was too quick."

Melrose smiled.

He reached into the small evening bag beside him and closed his fingers around the tiny prepared container hidden inside.

His heart accelerated with anticipation.

He wasn’t going to hurt Nero.

The thought was absurd.

He only needed an opportunity without guards, obligations, or that irritating Fitzgeralt man occupying whatever unreasonable part of Nero’s attention he had managed to claim.

Once Nero actually had Melrose alone, everything would resolve itself.

Nero would see him.

Really see him.

And afterward, nobody would be able to pretend Melrose Mynatt was just another omega in a room full of them.

Aster caught the movement of his hand.

"Melrose."

"What?"

"Don’t do anything stupid."

Melrose looked offended. "I never do anything stupid."

Three people around the table immediately found something else to look at.

He stood.

Rather than approach the bar himself, he waited until a server passed their lounge.

"Excuse me."

The young man stopped.

Melrose smiled sweetly.

"Would you bring His Highness a drink from me?"

The server glanced toward Nero.

"What would you like sent?"

"Sahan whiskey. Neat."

That was safe.

Publicly, Nero rarely drank cocktails. Whiskey was familiar enough not to attract attention, particularly Sahan whiskey, which was almost obligatory at events like this.

The server nodded and moved toward the service station.

Melrose followed several moments later under the pretense of choosing another drink for himself.

Nobody paid much attention.

The party was crowded. Staff moved constantly. Glasses appeared and disappeared across trays every few seconds.

Melrose only needed a moment.

By the time the server turned back toward the room, a measure of amber whiskey sat inside a heavy crystal glass.

Melrose watched it travel across the floor.

His pulse became almost giddy.

The server reached Nero.

Melrose couldn’t hear the exchange from where he stood, but he saw the man gesture discreetly toward their lounge.

Nero followed the direction.

Purple eyes landed on Melrose.

For one perfect second, they looked directly at each other.

Melrose smiled.

Nero’s expression gave away very little.

Then he accepted the glass.

Aster appeared beside Melrose.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Melrose."

Across the room, Nero continued his conversation while turning the crystal glass once between his fingers.

Melrose barely breathed.

Nero lifted the Sahan whiskey to his mouth.

And drank.