Page 287 of Reign

I smile despite myself. “I’m going to have to pack all the clothes I want to show off there.”

“No. Your clothes stay here. We’ll get you a new wardrobe there.”

My smile widens. “A new wardrobe?”

“Of course. A million shoes to fill our room too.” He smirks.

The words land soft.

He says them without hesitation. Without ceremony. As though there has never been any possibility that I belong there too in his Florida home.

Our room.

I turn back toward the mirror before he can see how badly two words have affected me.

“Careful,” I say. “Promising me a vacation and a new wardrobe sounds suspiciously like you’re trying to spoil me.”

“I’m not trying.”

I meet his eyes in the mirror.

His expression remains perfectly composed.

Mine does not.

“That was disgustingly smooth.”

“It was a statement of fact.”

“You sound very confident for a man whose closet I’ve already conquered.”

“We’ll build another one.”

I stare at him.

He kisses my temple again.

“Finish getting ready.”

“You cannot casually promise me additional closet space and then change the subject.”

“I just did.”

“Luciano.”

“Your breakfast is getting warm.”

There are few things more infuriating than a man who knows exactly how much power he has over you and uses it to direct you toward berries.

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting between Luciano’s legs against the headboard, his bare chest warm behind me and a tray resting across our laps.

Our laps.

Our bed.

Our room.

This is becoming a problem.