Page 29 of Reign

Because every part of my life is his to rearrange now.

I laugh, sharp and disbelieving. “You’re bargaining with my life.”

His expression tightens. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Really? Because you’ve got a list of men, a semester deadline, and a contract you’re already writing for me. What exactly would you call it?”

He looks away and shakes his head.

“I need to get ready for your wedding,” I say before he can answer.

“Elena.”

“So do you.”

I turn before he can say anything else.

“Elena, this is happening.”

My hand freezes on the door handle.

For one second, I can’t breathe.

Then I look back at him over my shoulder and smile like I’m not breaking open in the middle of his office.

“Enjoy your wedding, Angelo.”

I leave before he can answer.

***

By the time Riot pulls back from beneath my dress, I’m still shaking. My red bridesmaid gown is bunched at my waist, one heel hooked over his shoulder, my fingers tangled in his hair.

For a few seconds, there are no contracts, no fortresses, no brother negotiating my life—only Riot’s mouth, my ruined breathing, and the humiliating relief of feeling nothing but pleasure.

He kisses the inside of my thigh, too gentle for what this is supposed to be, and reality crashes back in.

I shove lightly at his shoulder. “Get up.”

Riot rises slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are dark, his breathing steady.

Always so fucking steady.

I hate him for it.

I slide off the vanity on unsteady legs and tug my dress back down. The red silk falls over my thighs, wrinkled and probably wrecked, which feels fitting.

He watches me fix the bodice. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“Elena.”

I reach for his belt because it’s easier than answering. Easier than thinking. Easier than admitting that my brother just looked me in the eyes and called me an asset.

“Your turn, Sergeant.”

Riot catches my wrist before I touch the buckle.