Page 189 of Reign

She opens them and points her knife at me. “What?”

“I was deciding whether to be offended.”

“By my steak?”

“You’ve never looked at me with that much devotion.”

She glances down at her plate. “Have you tried it?”

“Careful, princesa.”

“If you want devotion, you need more butter.”

I laugh again.

She smiles as she cuts another piece, victorious in a way that makes me want to keep provoking her.

“You eat very differently at my house,” I say.

Her fork pauses. “Your house feels like a grilled-fish house.”

“What does that mean?”

“Everything is clean and expensive. The vegetables probably have résumés.”

“You could’ve asked Marisol for steak.”

“She would’ve made it?”

“She’ll make you anything you want.”

Elena considers that while chewing. “That’s dangerous information.”

“Why?”

“Because now I might never leave.”

“I fail to see the problem.”

Her eyes lift to mine. For once, she has nothing ready.

Perfect.

I let her sit with it while I reach for my wine and lift it.

“To you,” I say.

Her brows rise. “Not Evelyn St. Clair?”

“She didn’t make the dress you’re wearing.”

Elena looks down at herself, fingertips brushing the skirt beneath the table.

“Her assistant might hate my sketches.”

“She might.”

Her gaze snaps back to mine.