Page 87 of Reign

“No. Don’t Elena me in that voice.”

“What voice?”

“That voice.”

His gaze drops to my mouth. Brief. Deliberate.

“The one that makes your heart race?”

My mouth opens.

I am going to murder him in his own driveway.

Chapter 16

Elena

Damn.

It’s gorgeous.

The house is annoyingly, offensively gorgeous.

Warm light glows through walls of glass. Pale stone catches the late-afternoon sun in soft gold. The landscaping isn’t overdone, just clean and deliberate—clipped hedges, low modern planters, a long ribbon of water running beside the walkway, and olive trees in massive stone pots like even the plants here have seasonal accommodations.

Of course Luciano Castillo would own trees that need a winter strategy.

The whole property looks like something magazines describe with words like serene and curated and understated luxury.

It looks like the house of my dreams.

That thought disarms me so completely I almost forget I’m furious.

Then I remember whose house it is.

Luciano Castillo’s.

The man who collected me from the airport like misplaced luggage with a pulse and drove me here as though this were normal. As though I were expected.

Like I belonged here.

That last thought irritates me so deeply I have to look away from the house.

Unfortunately, looking away means looking at Luciano.

Worse mistake.

He stands beside the SUV in his dark suit, one hand resting near the open door, his expression calm enough to be insulting. The late sun catches the sharp line of his cheekbone, the clean sweep of his dark hair, the glint of his watch at his wrist. He looks less like a man who has brought me to his home and more like a man who has arranged the world to receive me.

Which is ridiculous.

The world doesn’t receive me.

The world usually trips over me, panics, and then calls one of my brothers.

I smooth my face into something that I hope reads as cool disdain and not wow, I would absolutely commit tax fraud to live here.

“It’s excessive,” I say.