Page 36 of Reign

His eyes drop to the plate, then lift back to mine. “You crossed the room to criticize my appetite?”

I almost smile.

“Maybe,” I say, grabbing a pastry from the tray beside him and plating it. “I have high standards.”

His brow quirks. “Have I failed already?”

I meet his eyes, and something warm unfurls low in my stomach when he holds my stare.

“The night’s young,” I say. “We’ll see if you earn it.”

His mouth curves slowly. “I think you have that backward.”

Chapter 8

Luciano

Bold.

She’s bold.

Not loudly. She crosses a room with her chin lifted and her pulse betraying every step.

She knows what she’s doing.

Mostly.

Her throat gives her away.

The quick, delicate beat at the base of it catches my attention first. Then the length of her neck. The fringe skimming her brows, soft enough to look accidental. The curls slipping free from their pins and brushing her shoulders. The way the light warms her skin until she looks touched everywhere.

She turned around.

That interests me.

I felt her eyes on me before she crossed the room. First when I reached for the empanada, then when I spoke to Luca. She looked once, looked away, and changed her mind.

Most people commit to retreat once they’ve chosen it. She corrected hers, turned around, and crossed the room as though returning had been the plan all along.

It wasn’t. Her pulse confesses that much.

She came anyway.

Now I want to know what else she’ll do while pretending she isn’t nervous.

I glance at the pastry on her plate, then back at her mouth.

“People usually end up exactly where they intended to.”

Her lips curve like she’s trying not to let me have the satisfaction of a full smile.

“Do they?”

“Most people are predictable.”

“And me?”

I study her for one quiet second too long.