Page 335 of Reign

This is his fault.

I pull on my bikini and the sheer cover-up hanging beside it. The fabric barely qualifies as clothing, which feels appropriate.

Luciano leaves me alone?

Fine.

Then I’m swimming.

I stomp through the house, hoping the force of each step somehow travels through the marble, across Florida, and directly into his skull.

The kitchen is empty.

No Luciano waiting beside the island. No berries held patiently near my mouth while he pretends feeding me is a reasonable use of his morning. No coconut water pushed toward me because he’s decided hydration is a moral obligation.

I glare at his usual chair.

Then I open the freezer and still.

My bowl is inside.

Blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and cherries frozen in coconut water exactly the way I like them.

He made it before he left.

My heart almost forgives him.

Almost.

A goodbye would’ve taken less time than arranging fruit.

I take the bowl from the freezer, find a fork, and carry both toward the patio.

The berries hold my full attention as I walk. I scrape the fork over the frozen surface, trying to pry loose a cherry without sending it across the kitchen.

The sliding doors are already unlocked.

I push one aside and step into the warm morning air.

Then I look up.

The bowl slips from my hand.

Ceramic strikes stone.

The sharp crack echoes across the patio as the bowl shatters, sending frozen berries, coconut water, and white pieces of ceramic across the tile.

I barely notice.

The pool is empty.

Completely empty.

No sparkling blue water. No ripples moving beneath the sun. No waterfall spilling from the pale stone wall.

Nothing.

Only tile.