Page 85 of Made for Reign

“Where you ruined me for anyone else, you mean.”

Reign chuckles at my words. “I didn’t ruin you, Princess. I showed you who you really are.”

The truth of his statement settles in my chest. Before Reign, I was sleepwalking through my own life—going through the motions, playing the role assigned to me, never questioning the script. He didn’t change me; he awakened me.

“To San Diego,” I raise my glass in a toast. “And to being who we really are.”

“To San Diego.” He touches his glass to mine, the crystal singing between us. “And to thirty thousand feet of privacy.”

Heat floods my cheeks at the implication in his tone. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

His smile turns predatory. “Depends on what you’re thinking.”

I set my champagne down. “I’m thinking that I’ve never joined the mile-high club.”

The seatbelt sign dings off, and Reign is out of his seat in an instant. He growls. “That can be arranged.”

“Oh my gosh, this is heaven.”Violet sinks deeper into her pedicure chair, her eyes closed in bliss as the technician workson her feet. “Remind me to thank your mountain man. I haven’t been pampered like this in months.”

I smile, watching my friend surrender to luxury.

“Seriously, Audrey,” Iris adds from my other side, wiggling her toes as they’re painted a vibrant teal. “Reign is officially my favorite of all your boyfriends.”

I laugh, though the sound catches in my throat as I consider my current circumstances.

Here I am, in a luxury spa with my two best friends, being treated to massages, facials, and pedicures. All compliments of Reign. Meanwhile, back in Cooper Heights, my fiancé is recovering in my family’s guest wing, and Lucille is accelerating wedding plans that I have no intention of following through on.

“It’s not like I have a long list of serious relationships to compare him to,” I say, watching as the technician applies a soft blush polish to my toes. “And technically, Reign isn’t my boyfriend.”

Iris snorts. “Please. The man flew you to San Diego on a private jet, booked you into the presidential suite of the fanciest hotel in the city, arranged this entire spa day, and is taking you to an award ceremony tonight where your art is being recognized. If that’s not boyfriend behavior, I don’t know what is.”

“It’s more than boyfriend behavior.” Violet opens one eye to look at me. “It’s husband behavior.”

Husband. The word echoes in my mind, conjuring images so different from what I’ve pictured with Gio. Not sterile corporate events and strategic appearances, but mornings in Reign’s cabin, sunlight streaming through windows as I paint, his arms around me in the kitchen, his voice rough with sleep. A life where I’m seen, not showcased.

“Earth to Audrey.” Iris waves her hand in front of my face. “Your expression just went all dreamy.”

I blink, returning to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking...”

“About Reign as husband material?” Violet’s smile is knowing. “Because that look on your face says it all.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Actually, I’m thinking that I still can’t believe he entered me in that competition,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “I overthought it until the deadline almost passed.”

“That’s exactly why he did it,” Violet says wisely. “He sees you, girlie. The real you. The artist who’s been hiding for years.”

“And he believes in your talent,” Iris adds, her usual brash tone softening. “Which, for the record, we’ve been telling you about forever. You were always meant to create, not just exist as some corporate trophy wife.”

I blink back unexpected tears. “I know. It’s just complicated.”

“Only because you’re making it complicated,” Iris says. “The solution seems pretty simple to me. Dump Gio. Be with Mountain Man. Paint beautiful things. Live happily ever after.”

If only it were that simple. I think about the Worthington legacy, about my father’s company now intertwined with Vega Promotions, about Lucille’s carefully constructed plans. Walking away from all that means more than just changing my relationship status.

“My family—” I begin.

“Your family has been controlling your life for twenty-three years,” Violet interrupts gently. “At some point, you have to decide if you’re living for them or for yourself.”

The technician finishes my pedicure and moves away, giving us a moment of relative privacy. I lean closer to my friends, lowering my voice.

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