Page 110 of Made for Reign

“Love?” He laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “Is that what you think you feel for him? This contractor with his mountain cabin and rough hands?”

“His name is Reign,” I say, lifting my chin. “And yes, I love him. We’re getting married.”

The words hit their mark. Gio’s composed facade cracks, revealing something dark and dangerous beneath. His eyes narrow, his jaw tightens, his hands curl into fists at his sides.

“You belong to me,” he says, his voice dropping to a register I’ve never heard before. “The contract is signed. The merger is in progress. Lucille has accepted my investment. There is no scenario where you walk away from this engagement.”

“I’m not a business asset,” I counter, though my voice trembles slightly. “I’m a person. I make my own choices.”

“Do you?” He moves closer, invading my space with deliberate intent. “Let’s examine those choices, shall we? You chose to deceive your family. You chose to betray your fiancé. You chose to risk your father’s legacy, for what? A few weeksof slumming with a man who sees you as nothing more than a trophy to steal from me?”

His words are designed to wound, to make me doubt. Six months ago, they might have worked. But I know better now. I know what real connection feels like. What real support looks like.

“Reign sees me,” I say, the truth of it steadying me. “Not the Worthington name or the company connections. Just me. The real me.”

“How romantic.” His tone drips with disdain. “And what happens when he tires of you? When the novelty of bedding a Worthington wears off? Will he still want you when you bring him nothing but trouble?”

“Yes.” The certainty in my voice seems to surprise us both.

Gio’s expression hardens. He reaches for me, his hand aiming for my face in what might be a caress or a threat. I don’t wait to find out. My hand slips to my back pocket, fingers closing around the letter opener. When his hand is inches from my cheek, I strike.

The silver blade slices across his palm, drawing a line of crimson that immediately begins to drip onto the cream carpet. Gio jerks back, surprise quickly replaced by cold fury.

“You little bitch,” he hisses, clutching his bleeding hand.

I back away, the letter opener held before me like a shield. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”

For a moment, I think he might lunge at me, might unleash the violence I can see simmering beneath his controlled exterior. Instead, he wraps his handkerchief around his wounded hand, his movements deliberate and precise.

“I see you need more time to adjust to your situation.” His voice is eerily calm, at odds with the rage in his eyes. “Perhaps a night alone will help you reconsider your position.”

He moves to the door, never turning his back to me. “I’ve been patient with you, Audrey. More patient than most men would be. But that patience has limits.”

“Let me go,” I say, hating the pleading note that creeps into my voice. “This won’t end well for anyone.”

“On the contrary.” His smile returns, cold and calculating. “This ends exactly as I’ve planned. It ends with you as my wife and with your lover as a cautionary tale about taking what doesn’t belong to him.”

The threat against Reign sends fear coursing through me, sharper and more potent than any concern for my own safety. “If you hurt him?—”

“You’ll what?” Gio interrupts, his hand on the doorknob. “Stab me with another letter opener? Run away again? Your options are rather limited at the moment,cara.”

He opens the door, pausing on the threshold. “Enjoy your solitude. We’ll continue this conversation when you’re ready to be reasonable.”

The door closes behind him, the lock engaging with a final-sounding click. I’m alone again, the letter opener still clutched in my trembling hand.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, the adrenaline that kept me upright draining away and leaving exhaustion in its wake. The magnitude of my situation settles over me like a physical weight. I’m trapped in Gio’s lake house, miles from civilization. No one knows where I am except Lucille, who helped orchestrate my captivity, and Gio’s security team, who executed it.

No one except Reign.

The thought of him sends a fresh wave of determination through me. He’ll know I’m missing by now. He’ll be looking for me. Reign won’t stop until he finds me—of that, I’m certain.

I move to the window, staring out at the mountains now silhouetted against the darkening sky. Somewhere out there,Reign is planning. Searching. Coming for me. I press my palm against the cool glass, as if I could somehow reach through it to him.

“I’m here,” I whisper, though I know he can’t hear me. “I’m waiting.”

I turn back to the room, surveying it with new purpose. I know Reign is coming for me. So my job is to survive until he arrives. To resist Gio’s manipulation. To find a way to escape if possible, or at least to signal my location.

I tuck the letter opener into the waistband of my jeans, covering it with my sweater. It’s not much of a weapon, but it’s something. A reminder that I’m not powerless, even here in this beautiful prison.

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