Page 19 of Reign

I’m annoyed at how sexy I still find him even as I imagine punching him right in the throat.

I steel myself and fire back, “Did it ever occur toyouthat Ihaveno onefamiliar?That you’re it for me right now and all I needed was for you to show me that you could control yourself around her?” Seething, my fingers ball into fists at my sides. “I’m going home now. Feel free to stay for another dance.”

He grabs my wrist in a vice grip as I turn to leave. “Don’t ever turn your back on me. Especially when we’re arguing. And you know if you’re leaving, then so am I.”

Maybe it isn’t that big of a deal anymore. Maybe I should just get over it. Maybe I should stop punishing him. I know I have to sound like a broken record, but I have zero control over my life right now. And I hate it. This anger is what’s fueling me to stay in the game and not just walk out into the ocean and sayfuck it all.I told him I needed time. Twelve days isn’t exactly what I had in mind.

I let the girls know that we’re going to head out and quirk my eyebrows at Camila in question.Are you coming home with us?Victoria sends me a thumbs up, Marguerite wiggles her eyebrows and winks, and Joelle nods saying, “I’ll text you.”

Camila looks back and forth between Cas and I. I can only imagine what she sees. Some combination of lust, fury, and sadness, probably.

“I’ll stay with the girls a while longer.” She throws a look at Victoria. “If you don’t mind giving me a lift back home?”

“Not at all.”

With that plan settled, I start to follow Cas off the floor but turn back to the girls. Unfastening the clasp on my GPS bracelet, I reach for Camila’s arm and am surprised when she doesn’t protest as I place it on her dainty wrist.

“Be careful,” I whisper as I pretend to kiss her cheek. Appearances are important and I don’t want these new women to have any reason to pit Camila and I against each other more than we already are. As far as they know, we’re one happy family.

Ten

Casper/Dominic/Casandro

IF I’D HAD ANY QUESTION about Isabel’s heritage, this grudge she’s holding would prove she is, indeed, South American. I swear these women get off on grudge holding. Yes, I heard her in the club. In my shitty defense, my hand was on Camila’s hip bone. Not her ass. Not her chest. I wasn’t groping. I wasleading. She’s here as my cousin for Christ’s sake. That hand is like a horse’s reins. It tells her where to go next and how fast to get there during that dance.

But of course, Isabel doesn’t want to hear any of that.

“I never even fucked Camila in Venezuela, Lib. Come on,” I say, pleading and hoping the use of her real name will appeal to her.

She stops midway up the steps in the foyer. She doesn’t even turn around as she says, “No, just her face.”

I’m left still horny as hell because a sick part of me likes the fight and damn, if she doesn’t look hot as fuck when she’s mad. Especially when she’s mad and in a short, gold, cocktail dress with one strap, accentuating her full chest.

Ten minutes later I’m fucking my fist, fuming at this whole situation.

~

I’M AWAKE AT SIX WITH no hope of going back to sleep so I pull on some Nike joggers and a white t-shirt and decide to hit the home gym in the basement.

After coffee, of course.

I feel guilty about last night and I know I have another apology in my future, for which I’ll definitely need this coffeeandthis workout.

I’m on the second step from the bottom when the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up and the air changes. I don’t know how to explain it but it’s like the air becomes thicker when someone else is in a room, or somehow the particles are dispersed differently because the other body is taking up space.

Grabbing the pistol I have stashed behind the grandfather clock of the foyer, I creep quietly to the living room before stopping dead in my tracks.

“What thefuck?”

Nikita is reading his dossier on our couch, a picture of total relaxation. My presence doesn’t startle this asshole at all. In fact, he’s smiling as he looks up at me.

“Good morning, Dominic.”

His eyes stay trained on me. He’s got me. He knows who I am which means he also probably knows why I’m here. I’m so fucking tired of people having more information than I do when this shit isn’t even my fucking problem.

I take the clip out of my gun and place the empty weapon on the coffee table between us. It would do me no good to threaten him at this point. What this move tells me is he knows way more than I do.

He obviously doesn’t see me as a threat since he’s still sitting down. No signs of stress line his features. His breathing is even. No trace of sweat on his brow.

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