Chapter Four
Sierra
The past days have blurred together most unexpectedly. Leaving me wondering when exactly Royal Madera stopped being the complication I tried so desperately to avoid and became the person I searched for without thinking.
Because of our parents, Royal and I are constantly finding ourselves in the same room.
Every moment together gives an opportunity to fuck like bunnies and learn a little about one another.
Charity luncheons turn into dinners, dinners into late-night sex in the car, elevator, and any flat surface when we manage to find a room.
And somewhere between all the stolen moments, we quietly stop pretending that whatever exists between us is temporary. We don’t put a label on it, but neither of us needs to. It is a full-blown physical relationship now.
Yet beneath every laugh and every quiet moment rests the uncomfortable truth that we’re both hiding parts of ourselves. Royal keeps portions of his life carefully locked away behind that thoughtful smile.
And I continue carrying the unbearable weight of believing his father may have murdered mine. Every time I tell myself tonight will be the night I confess everything, I lose my nerve the moment I look into his eyes.
Today is no different.
The familiar black sign reading 4R Ink comes into view as I park across the street. And despite everything occupying my mind, I can’t stop smiling. Royal invited me here yesterday after mentioning he had a lighter appointment schedule.
Casually saying that if I was finally curious enough to see where he spent most of his time, I should stop by. I’d acted indifferent, pretending I might have other plans. But the truth is I’ve been looking forward to this all morning.
This place is a part of him that exists completely outside the polished billionaire son everyone else knows. And I realize as I climb out of my car that this is the version of Royal I’ve been most eager to understand. The bell above the front door jingles softly as I step inside.
I’m immediately greeted by the unmistakable scent of disinfectant, tattoo ink, and fresh coffee. Rock music hums quietly through hidden speakers. The reception is empty, but the atmosphere is both energetic and relaxed. Before I have a chance to look around properly, a familiar voice reaches me.
“Well, look who finally decided to visit.”
Royal emerges from the hallway wearing a fitted black T-shirt and dark jeans. His sleeves are rolled just enough to reveal intricate tattoos winding over his forearms. I’d known he had tattoos; they cover his whole body, down to his thighs.
I’ve always found them fascinating and wished they were displayed more. So, seeing them in person is different. When he’s dressed for galas and business dinners, none of them are visible. Standing here now, I realize how carefully he separates his two worlds.
Society sees immaculate suits and polished smiles. This version wears ink proudly, his movements relaxed, his expression softer than the one reserved for photographers and business associates. His face brightens the moment he reaches me.
“You came.”
“You look surprised. You invited me, remember.”
“I wasn’t convinced you’d actually accept.”
“I’m beginning to think you underestimate my curiosity.”
“I’ll try not to make that mistake again.”
He leans down and presses a quick kiss against my forehead before gently taking my hand.
“Come on.”
He leads me farther inside the shop to the break room, where several familiar faces immediately turn toward us.
“Everyone,” Royal says, “this is Sierra.” He turns to me. “Sierra, meet Raiden, River, Roman, and Nadia, River’s wife and our receptionist.”
River is the first to smile. “So, she’s real.”
Royal sighs dramatically. “I’m already regretting bringing her.”
“You’ve been talking about her for weeks,” River continues, completely ignoring him.
“I have not.”
Raiden looks up from the stencil he’s studying before glancing at me with a calm expression. “You have.”
“I mentioned her.”
“You mentioned her every day.”
Roman grins from across the room. “I honestly thought we’d have to kidnap her just to prove she existed.”
Laughter fills the shop. I blink. Royal talked about me?
“I’m happy to finally meet all of you,” I say, unable to hide my smile. “I’ve heard quite a bit about everyone.”
River immediately points at Royal. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“She said you’ve been talking.”
Royal pinches the bridge of his nose. “I walked right into that one.”
Nadia steps forward and offers me a warm hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“You too.”
“I’m sorry Elodie isn’t here. She’s teaching today.”
Royal nods. “She’ll probably interrogate me later for introducing everyone without her.”
“I’m sure she will,” Nadia says with a laugh.
Roman folds his arms. “I still can’t believe you actually brought a woman here.”
Royal raises an eyebrow. “I’ve brought women here before.”
“Clients don’t count.”
“They absolutely don’t,” River agrees.
“I don’t know what you’re all talking about.” Raiden doesn’t even glance up from his work. “You’re the most antisocial of us now that I have Elodie.”
“I’m offended.” Royal grabs his chest dramatically, making me giggle.
Roman throws an arm around River’s shoulders. “I’m clearly the social glue holding this dysfunctional family together.”
“The anomaly,” Royal corrects.
Everyone looks toward him. He shrugs. “Roman is the only one who voluntarily talks for fun. The remaining three of us communicate only when absolutely necessary.”
River nods thoughtfully. “He’s got a point.”
“I’m surrounded by traitors,” Roman mutters.
The shop erupts into another round of laughter, and I find myself laughing with them. I glance toward Royal. He’s different here. The charming billionaire I first met at the gala still exists. But now I recognize him for what he truly is: a carefully crafted performance.
His expressions are more genuine here. His smiles are rarer but infinitely more meaningful. And every so often, I catch the others looking to him before making a decision, trusting his judgment without a word being spoken.
This is the real Royal. The realization settles warmly inside my chest. Somewhere along the way, without noticing, I’ve stopped falling for the handsome billionaire everyone loves to gossip about. I’ve fallen for the quiet man behind him.
A little later, after everyone drifts back to work, Royal leads me into his private tattoo room, where he’s preparing for his next appointment. Sketches cover one wall while shelves display neatly organized inks and equipment.
He studies a client’s reference photographs with complete concentration. He occasionally makes tiny adjustments to the stencil resting on his tablet before printing another version. I don’t interrupt him. Instead, I simply watch.
His brow furrows slightly whenever something isn’t perfect. He compares proportions, adjusts line weight almost imperceptibly, then starts over entirely when he isn’t satisfied. Every movement is patient and deliberate, revealing a level of precision I hadn’t expected.
He’s brilliant. Quietly brilliant.
The more I observe him, the more embarrassed I become by the assumptions I made when we first met. I thought he was superficial because he smiled so easily. I assumed he floated through life relying on charm and good looks because that’s what everyone expected of him.
Now I understand those smiles are armor, and beneath them is a thoughtful, intensely focused man who notices everything. He’s still breathtakingly handsome. That certainly hasn’t changed. If anything, seeing him in this environment only makes him more attractive.
Unfortunately, my admiration is quickly followed by guilt.
Tell him.
The thought surfaces again. Tell him about Marco. Tell him what you found. Tell him why you’ve really been spending time in that house.
I look at him. He’s completely absorbed in refining the stencil for a client he’ll meet in an hour, and the words refuse to come. What if he already knows? What if he doesn’t? What if telling him destroys whatever we’ve built?
For the first time since Dad died, I’ve allowed myself to be genuinely happy. Being with Royal feels easy. Safe. Normal. Bringing my investigation into this room might shatter that illusion forever. So I stay silent. Cowardly. Selfishly. And I hate myself for it.
I bury my thoughts. Today, I simply want to exist in this little bubble we’ve created together.
So, I focus on the man before me. I focus on the way his broad shoulders stretch his shirt.
My gaze shifts to his face. His scrunched brows, intense gaze that I wish was directed at me, then down to his full lips.
My sex floods, and an ache begins to bloom in my core. I bite into my lower lip as I imagine those lips wreaking beautiful havoc over my body as he has done in the past week, taking me to new heights over and over.
And I want him with a ferocity that frightens me. He looks up then, catching me staring. His gaze holds mine, dark and knowing, and something in my chest catches fire.
“If you keep looking at me like that,” he says, his voice low and rough, “I’m going to fuck you right here.”
The words should shock me. They don’t. They ignite me. I set my phone aside and lean back against the couch, letting my knees fall slightly open. “What’s stopping you?”
His eyes flare. He sets down his pencil and rises, moving toward me with a predator’s grace. The closer he gets, the more I can feel the heat rolling off him, the contained energy barely leashed.
“The door’s unlocked,” he murmurs, stopping in front of me. “Anyone could walk in.”
I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. “Then you’d better be quick.”
He laughs, a dark, dangerous sound. “Oh, princess. I’m never quick.”