Page 5 of Made for Reign

Reign shakes both their hands politely, but his attention keeps drifting back to me.

“Elizabeth,” he repeats, like he’s testing how it sounds. “Pretty name.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip of my drink to give my hands something to do. “So is Reign. That’s not exactly common.”

“It’s a nickname from the Marines.” He slides his hands into his pockets, the movement causing his suit jacket to pull slightly across his broad chest. “Stuck around longer than I expected it to.”

Of course, he’s former military. That explains the way he carries himself, like he’s constantly assessing threats and calculating angles.

“What brings you three out tonight ?” he asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. What am I supposed to say? That I’m here hiding from an arranged marriage to a mob boss? That tomorrow I fly back to Wyoming to sacrifice myself for my family’s company?

“We’re celebrating,” Iris jumps in smoothly. “Elizabeth is moving.”

“Oh?” Those dark eyes are focused on me again, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights. “Where to?”

“Home,” I manage.

“Home,” he repeats, but there’s something in his tone that tells me he knows I’m being evasive. Those dark eyes seem to see right through me, like he can sense there’s more to the story I’m not telling.

The silence stretches between us for a beat too long, tension crackling in the air. I should say something, fill the quiet, but my brain has apparently short-circuited.

“Ooh!” Violet says suddenly. She drains her glass and stands up. “I love this song.”

I glance around, confused. “What song?”

“This one,” Iris chimes in, also getting to her feet despite the fact that the music is barely audible background noise. “We should definitely dance.”

“We should?”

I look between my two friends, panic rising in my chest. They’re not seriously about to leave me alone with him, are they?

“Absolutely.” Violet grabs Iris’s hand and starts backing toward the small dance floor near the DJ booth. “You two should get acquainted. Elizabeth was just telling us how much she loves meeting new people.”

“I was not?—”

But they’re already gone, disappearing into the crowd of swaying bodies like the traitors they are.

When I look up, Reign is watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Mind if I sit?” he asks, though he’s already moving toward the spot Violet vacated.

I scoot over to make room. “Sure.”

The booth suddenly feels much smaller with him in it. His thigh brushes against mine as he settles in, and heat shoots up my leg like I’ve been branded. The scent of him, something clean and masculine with hints of cedar, fills my senses.

He turns to face me fully. “So, Elizabeth. What’s the real story?”

TWO

REIGN

Elizabeth swallows hardand looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes.

“W-what makes you think there’s a real story?”

The question comes out breathless, and there’s something vulnerable underneath it that makes my chest tighten. She’s fidgeting with her cocktail napkin, tearing little pieces off the edge, and I have the sudden urge to reach over and still her hands.

“Call it instinct,” I reply. “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

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