Chapter 177: Bobby McFerrin - Don’t Worry, Be Happy
Gabriel gave a breathy chuckle and spread his arms wide as if Damien had just accused him of kicking puppies. "Don’t worry," he said, his tone dripping with artificial innocence. "I admit defeat, Your Highness. The day is yours." He paused dramatically, then added, "But I would like you to meet some of the guests. I did invite them all this way from far away. It would be dreadfully rude not to."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "I still don’t know what you’re up to. And if you think for one second that I believe that bullshit, you must think me naïve."
"Oh, Damien, I’ve never thought you naïve. Impulsive, maybe. Reckless? Absolutely. But never naïve."
As they moved deeper into the crowd, the music playing behind them shifted to something more upbeat. The crowd was high on joy, on wine, and on gossip.
Gabriel, meanwhile, was on a mission. One Damien had failed to sniff out until it was almost too late. With the grace of a seasoned puppeteer, Gabriel steered Damien through clusters of guests, introducing him to dignitaries, royals, and aristocrats. Each introduction took no more than a few minutes—just enough for a handshake, a chuckle, and some vague pleasantries.
"Your Highness, may I present Lady Virella of the Crimson Lakes."
Damien shook her hand and forced a smile, already pulling away as Gabriel dragged him toward the next guest.
And the next.
And the next.
It wasn’t until about twenty minutes into this charade that Damien’s brain caught up to what his instincts had been screaming all along: every single person Gabriel had introduced him to was a woman. Not just women—eligible, powerful women. And every single time, Gabriel ensured they shook hands. Flesh to flesh. Palm to palm.
What the hell was he trying to do?
Damien’s hackles rose, but his face remained impassive, charming even. He was a prince. A royal. And royals didn’t pick fights at their own weddings.