Page 188 of Reign

“That’s all?”

“You know how to use your colors. I trust you to use them.”

She studies me suspiciously. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Enjoy yourself. Let me take care of everything else.”

Something softer enters her expression.

“Very boyfriend-ish,“ she murmurs.

“You’ve mentioned.”

I offer my hand.

She places hers in it.

By the end of tonight, every man I could put on that list will have to compete with how it felt to be mine.

***

I expected a salad.

Maybe fish.

Some lean piece of meat with vegetables arranged beside it like decoration. In my house, Elena eats berries in the morning, salads in the afternoon, coconut water, grilled fish, small portions of things that make it easy to believe she prefers restraint over appetite.

Tonight, Elena Amato orders a steak.

Medium rare.

With a loaded baked potato.

Extra sour cream.

More cheese.

Butter on the side.

Then she looks at the waiter and asks, very sweetly, if the kitchen has truffle fries.

The waiter says yes.

She orders those too.

I watch her from across the table, and for the first time since we’ve met, I let myself just have her.

The restaurant is one of the best in the city, low-lit and private, all dark wood, white tablecloths, and the kind of service that knows when to disappear. I chose it because the booths are secluded, the staff is discreet, and no one enters this room without being noticed by at least three people I trust.

Elena chose the steak. The woman has been hiding a second personality made entirely of butter and red meat.

She cuts into it with absolute focus.

Then she takes a bite.

Her eyes close.

I laugh.