Page 56 of Reign

Maybe…

I open the Elite inquiry form.

“Membership inquiries only,” I whisper.

I shouldn’t.

My thumb hovers over the first blank field.

Name.

I stare at it like it might bite me.

This is absurd. There should be a medical term for whatever compels a woman to nearly have a panic attack over an online form for a sex club owned by the man who ruined her in a marble bathroom and then vanished before cake.

I type Elena.

Then delete it.

Then type E.

Delete that too.

Because what exactly is my plan here? Submit a membership inquiry under my real name and hope no one notices? Hope Luciano Castillo’s terrifyingly polished staff sees Elena Amato and simply decides not to investigate?

Absolutely not.

I type Lena A.

Flimsy, but less suicidal.

The next field asks how I heard about Elite.

I nearly laugh.

Your owner had me against a bathroom wall at my brother’s wedding and now I can’t stop thinking about him.

I settle for Word of Mouth.

Which is not technically a lie, if I count my own internal screaming as a source.

The next question asks what I’m interested in exploring.

My face heats so fast it’s humiliating.

The box is blank. Innocent. Vast. As if it doesn’t know it’s asking me to catalog the things that make my pulse trip and my body remember too much.

I stare at the cursor blinking in the empty space.

I like being watched.

No.

Too honest.

I like control.

Worse.