Page 34 of Reign

Deeply annoying.

I look away first and it feels like losing.

I reach for my champagne again, even though I don’t want it. I take a sip because it gives my mouth something to do other than part like a fool.

I can still feel him looking. I know without checking. It presses against the side of my face, against my throat, against the bare skin at my shoulders, but it isn’t crude—it’s attentive.

Like he’s decided I’m worth studying.

And some traitorous, glittering part of me wants to make him keep looking.

I hate that most of all.

Because I know how to handle men who leer. Men who underestimate. Men who reach too quickly or speak too loudly or believe charm is something they can buy with a watch and a smirk.

But this man doesn’t do any of that.

He simply looks.

And it makes me feel beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with my dress.

“Do you know him?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Riot’s gaze flicks to me, then follows mine across the room.

The stranger isn’t looking at me anymore.

He’s selecting another empanada. Somehow, he makes even that look devastatingly hot.

Riot studies him for half a second. “Yes.”

I wait.

Riot doesn’t continue.

“That’s it? You’re very useful.”

“I’m not here to identify every man you stare at.”

I cut him a look. “I wasn’t staring.”

“You were.”

“Was not.”

“Practically drooling.”

“I was contemplating the appetizers.”

“From across the room.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Riot remains infuriatingly calm.

The stranger shifts his plate to one hand, and my attention follows the movement before I can stop it.

Wonderful. Apparently mundane things become interesting when the man doing them is hot enough.

I should stay here.