Page 312 of Reign

“It won’t when I’m deciding how long you have to beg before I let you come.”

Her lips part, ready to argue.

“Go ahead. Keep talking. Give me a reason to fill that mouth, princesa.”

I step onto the edge of the pool.

“Luciano—”

I dive in before she can finish.

She squeals and tries to swim away, but I catch her around the waist beneath the water and pull her back against my chest. She comes up laughing, pushing wet hair from her face before twisting in my arms to face me.

“My brother is going to be furious,” she says.

“He’ll survive.”

“And if he keeps calling?”

I slide one hand down her back and kiss the water from her mouth.

“He can leave a message.”

Her laughter disappears beneath my next kiss.

Angelo can rage from states away for as long as he wants.

He isn’t ruining this.

***

Elena fits perfectly on my lap.

One arm loops around my shoulders while her other hand rests on my forearm at her waist. From the raised VIP section, we can see nearly every corner of Elite—the crowded main floor, the bar glowing beneath low amber light, the private alcoves arranged along the walls, and the stages where scenes unfold beneath the attention of anyone who chooses to watch.

She has already watched two.

The first held her silent from beginning to end, eyes wide and fixed on the Dom as he restrained his submissive against a padded wall. During the second, she leaned forward so far I had to tighten my arm around her waist to keep her from sliding off my leg.

She seems to be having the time of her life.

Her face lights with every new detail she notices. Every command. Every reaction. Every subtle exchange of control that most people would miss entirely.

I find myself watching her more than anything happening below us.

“This place is amazing,” she says.

Her gaze continues moving through the crowd as if she’s afraid she’ll miss something if she looks away for too long.

“Is this what Obsidian’s going to be like when it opens?”

“Hopefully.”

She turns slightly on my lap. “Hopefully? You own both. Aren’t you in charge of whether it’s amazing?”

“I’m in charge of the club. I can’t control whether the people of the city develop taste.”

She laughs and settles back against my chest.