Page 395 of Reign

“I know.”

He walks toward the house. I watch him go.

Then glance back at the gardener.

“See? Supervised.”

For the next several minutes, I move between the flower beds, changing my mind twice about the hydrangeas and once about the roses. The gardener continues trimming while I supervise, apparently resigned to the fact that I will never stop having opinions.

He straightens from the hedge. The shears are still in his hand. He looks toward the path Rodrigo disappeared down. Something about his face has changed.

I don’t know what. Just enough that I notice.

I straighten. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He sets the shears down beside the flower bed.

My stomach tightens.

The feeling makes no sense. He hasn’t done anything.

He’s been working here since Luciano brought me here. I’ve seen him outside before, complained about flowers to him enough that his face belongs here.

Maybe Rodrigo’s paranoia is contagious.

I turn toward the hydrangeas again.

“I think we should—”

“Don’t scream.”

Every muscle in my body freezes.

For half a second, I think I imagined it.

Then something hard presses against my side.

I look down.

A gun.

My heartbeat pounds violently.

“No,” I breathe out.

His voice stays low. “Don’t.”

I stare at the weapon.

Then at him.

The gardener.

The fucking gardener.

Of course.