Page 160 of Reign

“At the estate.”

“I know that too.”

Her throat moves. I draw the zipper up slowly, careful not to catch the fabric. The dress closes around her inch by inch, shaping to her body with irritating perfection.

“You said seven,” she says.

“Santo said seven.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Her gaze meets mine in the mirror.

“If Santo wanted us there exactly at seven,” I say, “he should’ve invited someone less beautiful.”

She stops breathing.

The compliment lands harder than I expect. Harder than she wants it to.

Her mouth opens once, then closes again, and for the first time since I stepped into the room, she has no weapon ready.

I finish the zipper and let my hands fall away.

“Beauty takes time,” I say. “Take yours.”

Her face warms fully now, soft color blooming beneath the careful work she put into her makeup.

She exhales sharply. “That’s manipulative.”

“It’s effective.”

“I don’t need permission to get ready.”

“No. Your brothers need practice waiting.”

Her eyes hold mine in the mirror. Some of the tension leaves her mouth.

She looks away first. “I hate when you’re reasonable.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I mean it every time.”

“I know.”

She bends for the heel, then wobbles before she can slide her foot in.

I offer my hand.

She looks at it. Then at me.

Then, with the kind of sigh meant to imply I’ve ruined her life by being useful, she places her hand in mine.

Her fingers are cold.

I close mine around them and hold steady while she steps into the heel.