Page 9 of Reign

I was perfectly happy with the first ring. It was actually a little better because it wasn’t quite as…pretentious? Noticeable? Heavy?

I know the response he’s hoping for, so I give it to him, not wanting to anger him before this dinner. As the scales fall off my eyes, I see more and more of the transition of his character in his actions. This ring was bought to impress his boss and the governor. If he really knew me at all, he’d know I am far too active to actually wear that thing anywhere. I would have been happy with a simple band. In fact, one of those silicone bands would be perfect for me. As it is, he’s slipping a $40,000 diamond in a platinum band on my finger as I step out of the shower, the weight of the stone as heavy on my hand as it is in my heart.

Snapping back to reality but breathing too heavily, I see Cas eye me with concern.

“Just a bad memory,” I tell him honestly as I shake my head, clearing the images. I don’t need Will in my head tonight.

Casandro silently assesses me as he grazes my cheek with one hand and holds out the box with his other.

Hesitantly, I pull the box to me, only breaking eye contact as I slowly open the lid. Inside is a diamond bracelet accompanied by three rings lined up against the back of the box. One of the rings is a blue, flexible, silicone band. The other is a diamond and band set.

When I look back at Cas, his head is angled down and he’s looking up at me with those incredible eyes through his long, dark eyelashes. “You need something that flaunts our wealth right now, so keep the ring from Mateo on for tonight. But I wanted you to have something that I picked out for all the other days. Someday, if you’ll let me, I’ll replace them all with money I earn honestly so that no blood money from the Van den Tweels, Santoses, or Hielos ever touches you again.

Overcome with emotion by this display of just how well he knows me, I give in. I squeeze his hand and kiss his cheek. “I love them, Cas. Thank you.”

He groans when I take a step back but says nothing and doesn’t reach for me. My bitchy alter-ego seems to have taken a back seat for now which I’m thankful for, but I’m unsure of how to navigate this oddly neutral ground with Cas.

“Let’s grab Camila and head over,” he says. Back to business.

We’re far from safe and we’re still fighting an uphill battle, but at least we’re together and as undeniably tragic as our lives have been, I can’t honestly say I’d take any of it back. The woman I was before I met Cas wasn’t who I’d wanted to be. Her meekness and skittish personality was a defense mechanism I hated, and although Camila’s presence has taught me that I still struggle with self-doubt, Cas’s presence has brought out the warrior in me. He’s given me something to fight for and he’s constantly reminding me that I’m strong enough.

For all of its potential overuse, the quote from Emily Brontë is right:Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.Lies, secrets, deception, murder, survival, and regret paint our canvases the same colors.

For a brief moment, I revel in the fact that this makes us closer, but as we step into the hallway, Camila comes out of her own room dressed to kill in a tight red dress with a corset top. She’s paired it with sky-high stilettos that stop above her ankle and I’m left wondering where she’s hidinghergun. My mood sours when I remember that her own life’s canvas is similar to Cas’s as well and the seeds of doubt and jealousy begin to break the surface yet again. They come in to full bloom when Cas tapes the fine wire of the microphone to the inside of our dresses, placing small, undetectable receivers at our backs. I feel like I see his hand linger at her chest as he tries to get the wire in place. The tension surrounding the three of us thick and suffocating. It’s not that I think he wants her now, it’s that Iknowhe wanted her in the past. She knew a version of him I never did, even if it wasn’t who he wanted to be.

That stupid voice speaks again in my mind reminding me if he once wanted her but no longer does, perhaps the same will happen to his feelings for me.

I say nothing as I head down the stairs lost in my thoughts, sabotaging myself not for the first time.

~

AT SIX O’CLOCK SHARP, the three of us head across the street to Victoria and Max’s house. The driveways here are short and stubby and really don’t match the grandeur of the homes at all, but with water on both sides of the street, I can see why they were limited. It takes us less than two minutes to walk from door-to-door.

It’s hot and humid again although, mercifully, there are a few clouds overhead providing some cover and bringing the temperature down to the low eighties in the shade.

Tonight, I have to play the role of Cas’s wife – not that that’s really a burden – but it means touching and being affectionate, which Cas is already taking advantage of. The plus side though is that Camila is royally pissed at being introduced as Cas’s cousin and she’s even more pissed at the way he can’t keep his hands off of me.

A butler greets us at the door before leading us through the overly modern home. Although our address is Miami, our small almost-island is called Palm Island and Victoria and Max seem to have gone a little overboard with the palm tree theme. From the foyer, we can see all the way to the back of the house and through the huge glass windows to the pool area. There are peopleeverywhere.

“Thisis having a few people over for drinks?” Camila whispers on the other side of Cas.

“My thoughts exactly,” I say before realizing that Camila and I are on the same page for once. I roll my eyes at Cas’s smirk. I hope he isn’t holding on to some notion of us being one big happy family.

This house has sharp lines everywhere, the staircase has a sheet of some kind of plexiglass that runs the length of it, making it look like it’s open to the floor below, with no railng. I’m not a fan of the look despite the price tag that probably accompanied it.

The art that decorates the walls looks like someone just threw paint at a canvas and slapped a price tag for half a million dollars on it and called it “a stroke of genius” and “one of a kind”. It’s weird that as I look around, I realize I’m oddly more comfortable and complimentary of Mateo’s house and that I’m comparing the two as if that house were my own.

As we’re led out to the back porch, it comes as no surprise that heads swivel in our direction as soon as we step foot onto the tile patio. It could be because we’re new and everyone wants a look at the strangers. I imagine you don’t get welcomed into this crowd easily or without suspicion. But realistically, I know why they’re staring. Looking back at the faces that survey us, I can’t help but notice none of them are quite as large or as lethal looking as Cas. These guys are soft in all the places Cas is hard. Their tans come from hours on a golf course. Cas’s color comes from his heritage and training out in the Venezuelan sun. Beside me, I feel Cas tense slightly as all the eyes drift toward him and I know all three of us are trying to discreetly search the crowd for any sign of Nikita Orlov. After the last couple of days, his image is burned into my brain and I’m fairly confident that even if he grew out his hair, gained a beard, lost his teeth, or gained forty pounds, I’d be able to identify him.

At the same time, I scan the crowd for Victoria. I never saw Max’s face so I wouldn’t know him even if he was right in front of me.

We don’t have to wait long before Victoria, and a short man who resembles a weasel, comes strolling toward us. She looks beautiful in a long cream-colored maxi-dress. Like everyone else, her eyes rake over Cas with unmistakable admiration. So much so, it seems that she’s forgotten her words and it’s Max who speaks first. His whiny voice matches his face and I can’t help but wonder if Victoria is with him for the money.

Max extends his hand to Cas first.

“Max Lukin.”

“Casandro Guerrero.” He then points to Camila first, “My cousin, Camila,” and then to me while simultaneously putting an arm around my waist and drawing me into his side. “My wife, Isabel.” As Max leans forward to shake my hand, Cas leans over and places a kiss to the side of my head in another possessive gesture. He’s leaving no question tonight about who I belong to.

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