Gabriel sighed, the kind of exhausted exhale that carried the weight of both future heirs and three intersecting romantic disasters. "She's learning near me. Not from me."
Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. "Still counts."
Across the ballroom, the glittering group of nobles-in-training and chaos enthusiasts had clearly noticed their approach. Christian stood with his hands folded like a court jester awaiting judgment, Max remained lounging with theatrical ease, Alexandra looked vaguely entertained, and Rafael had gone still in that exact way prey animals do when they sense a predator approaching. Irina stood in the middle of it all, fan clutched in both hands, expression bright but genuine.
"You're getting a son first," Gabriel said flatly.
Damian didn't respond, but that smug stillness, that infuriating quiet, was answer enough.
Gabriel looked at him, one brow lifting.
