Page 485 of Reign

Isadora thinks we should get married in a church. Valentina thinks we should serve cheeseburgers at the reception, which is a ridiculous notion. Adriana keeps insisting roses are classic and orchids make no sense.

If she weren’t carrying my nephew, I would have hit her for that one.

Even Santo had an opinion about where the reception should be held, despite already possessing a wife, an estate, and a baby on the way.

It’s stressful. Invasive. Annoying enough that I’ve considered banning everyone from the property until the ceremony.

And yet, whenever the noise becomes too much, I look at the diamond on my finger and remember what all this madness is leading toward.

I get to marry Luciano Castillo.

A pair of hands closes around my waist.

I see Luciano in the mirror a second before he draws me back against him. His arms fold around my middle, his chest warm and solid against my back.

“You’re smiling,” he murmurs.

“I have several reasons.”

His mouth brushes my temple. “Am I one of them?”

“Evelyn St. Clair called my fashion house good.”

“Then I’ll have her put it in writing so we can frame it.”

I laugh, and his arms tighten.

“And yes,” I admit. “You’re one of them.”

“One?”

“The primary one.”

“Better.”

He kisses the curve beneath my ear, then turns me inside the circle of his arms. One hand stays at my waist while the other slides into my hair, his fingers combing through the freshly styled length.

“Don’t ruin it. I just had it highlighted.”

“I can tell.” He studies the lighter strands threaded through my hair before winding one around his finger. “I love it.”

“You say that every time I change something.”

“Because I love every version.”

The words are far too sweet for the way his hand tightens at my waist.

He leans down and kisses me.

Luciano never seems capable of giving me one kiss. The first is soft. The second lingers. By the third, he has backed me against the dressing table, one hand cupping my jaw while his mouth moves over mine as though he hasn’t seen me in days instead of at breakfast.

I press my palm against his chest.

“I don’t have time for this.”

His mouth moves to my cheek. “You have time.”

“Bianca will be here any minute. We’re going to lunch.”