Page 75 of Reign

“Good.”

“And the bodyguard?”

My jaw stills. “What bodyguard?”

“The one listed on the travel update Adriana sent over. Ryan ‘Riot’ Ryatt.”

I don’t like the name. I don’t like him.

I like it less because I researched it.

Ex-military. Private security. Used by the Amatos often enough to be trusted, not often enough to be family. Men like him are useful because they follow orders. Men like him are irritating because they sometimes mistake proximity for authority.

“He can be taken wherever he was originally meant to go,” I say.

Rafael studies me for half a second too long. “And if he says no?”

“Then he can complain from your car.”

Rafael goes quiet, but he knows better than to smile.

The jet stops.

A flight attendant opens the cabin door, and city air slides into the plane, carrying the faint scent of fuel, rain-soaked asphalt, and exhaust. It enters without permission and touches everything.

Rafael stands. “I’ll be back.”

I nod and turn my attention to my phone before Rafael can see that I’m not as indifferent as I sound.

He exits the aircraft, his footsteps fading down the stairs, and I switch tabs to the file I should’ve closed before we landed.

Lena’s questionnaire waits on the screen.

I begin at the top, reading the answers with her face in mind now.

Then I reach orgasm control.

Strong Yes.

A smile pulls at my mouth before I can prevent it.

Finally. An answer without a single cautious qualification.

Orgasm control has always been one of my preferred forms of dominance. Anticipation is useful. Denial is better. There are few things more revealing than discovering how long someone can hold onto their dignity while their body begs for what I’ve decided not to give them.

With Elena, it would be considerably more entertaining.

She would complain through every denial. Accuse me of enjoying myself. Attempt to renegotiate terms she had already accepted.

She would be correct about one of those things.

I picture keeping her balanced on the edge until every sharp response dissolves into a plea. Letting her argue. Watching outrage turn into desperation without giving her what she wants until she asks properly.

I would enjoy every second of it.

I read Strong Yes once more before moving on.

By the time I reach aftercare, I feel as though I know slightly more about the woman who followed me into that bathroom. Or, at minimum, I understand what she believes she needs.