Page 51 of Teach Me to Fly

Ihesitate to get up when I hear a knock on my bedroom door. Not because I’m still doing my hair or fumbling with makeup—I’ve been ready for ten minutes—but there’s something about knowing Reign is on the other side, ready to take me to dinner, that causes my heart to lodge in my throat.

I smooth my hands down the front of my dress. It’s a simple black number that skims my calves and hugs my body just enough. The long sleeves are a deliberate choice, covering the new round of fresh cuts on my wrist that I gave myself today, and the high neckline gives nothing away. It’s the kind of outfit you wear when you don’t know where you're going, only that you need to feel safe in your own skin and still look good. I breathe in slowly and open the door.

He’s wearing a black dress shirt, sleeves casually rolled just below his elbows, the fabric sleek and clearly expensive, tailored to cling to his frame like it was made with only him in mind. There’s a quiet power to the way he wears it, understated but impossible to ignore. It’s unfair howelegance looks dangerous on him, how restraint only makes him more tempting.

His gaze rakes over my body slowly, taking his time before returning to my face. And when it does, I swear I feel it all the way down my spine. My body responds to him like gravity, and heat rises in my throat, pooling low in my belly. I force myself to look away before I let him see just how badly I want to touch him.

How badly I want him to touch me.

"Ready?" he asks.

I nod, and he steps aside, motioning for me to follow. We walk out into the warm night, his Porsche parked in front of the house, shining under the moonlight, and when he opens the door for me, I slide in.

He drives fast, cutting the driving time in half. Oxford glows in the dark with golden stone buildings lit from below; old streets dressed up like a movie.

The Folly sits on the edge of the river, its ivy-draped façade soft in the low evening light. Inside are candlelit tables, exposed beams, and linen napkins folded with precision. Reign doesn’t pause at the host stand, walking us straight into the dining area. It’s only then that I realize we’re the only ones here.

He leads me through the dining room without hesitation, down a few steps to a velvet-lined alcove with a view of the river glinting just beyond the window. The space is private and intimate. Moments later, a server appears beside the table and places two heavy menus down.

“Mr. Harrington.” He nods at Reign before walking away.

I lift a brow and look at Reign. “Did you book out the whole restaurant or something?”

He doesn’t look at me right away, instead flippingthe menu open, fingers gliding down the page, and then he shrugs. “I have some investments in the place and some sway in their business hours.”

I blink. Of course the man who showed up in an expensive-looking suit doesn’t need a reservation to a fancy restaurant. He can just pay them off to shut down the whole place for the night.

“What do you want?” he asks, nodding to my untouched menu.

I pick it up and scan the page over before deciding on the Fish of the Day. He lifts two fingers and the server from earlier walks up to our table within seconds, a smile plastered on his face.

“One Fish of the Day for the lady,” he says, closing his menu. “And I’ll have the beef sirloin.”

“And to drink?” the server asks.

“Your most expensive bottle,” Reign replies, not taking his eyes off mine.

The server nods, taking our menus. “Right away, sir.”

Within a few seconds, the server is back with a bottle of wine and pouring it into my glass. I take a small sip to taste, noticing that it’s unexpectedly smooth at first, tasting like pears mixed with vanilla, before a citrusy aftertaste kicks in. I drink the whole thing before the server finishes pouring Reign’s glass.

Both Reign and the server look at me with surprised expressions, but the server doesn’t hesitate to top up my glass before placing the bottle to the side of the table and leaving us. The candlelight flickers against the curve of my wineglass, catching on the sharp angles of Reign’s face as he leans back in his seat.

“Why do I have a feeling you plan to fill yourself up with liquid couragetonight?”

I smirk. “Because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

I wink at him before picking up my glass and downing the whole thing again. He watches me refill my glass; amusement written across his face.

“Careful, Angel. This particular wine is meant to be savoured slowly. You might not feel it pulling you under, but I can guarantee if you stand up right now, you’ll feel the alcohol hit you.”

I roll my eyes but listen anyway, setting the glass down with a sigh. He leans back in his seat, one side of his mouth tugging into that maddening, lazy smirk.

“Good girl,” he says, voice low and rich. The sound shivers through me, uninvited, heat curling low in my belly. I squeeze my thighs together beneath the table, annoyed at how easy it is for him to undo me.

But I don’t let it distract me. “Why didn’t you ever pick up when I called?”

His smirk falters as he exhales hard through his nose. “I see we’re jumping straight to the point before the food even gets here.”

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