Page 17

Whatever was happening in my stomach felt much heavier, more frantic.

Control. It was a reminder I needed. And it had never failed me in the past. Even if my old methods weren’t stopping fucking lightning from shooting out of my hands at inopportune moments, that was neither here nor there.

I focused back in on Reyna, which made my grasp on control feel like hanging off a ledge with sweaty palms, two thousand feet off the ground.

Reyna narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at me, unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t attuned to her. But to the waiter, her expression towards me was soft, a slight smile on her lips. “We both will,” she said, brightening her smile as she turned to the waiter. “What’s your name, by the way?”

Shit, I’d meant to ask but I was too busy trying not to bust out the chandelier over our heads when Reyna looked up at me under lowered lashes with those big, beautiful brown eyes of hers.

She was too fucking pretty.

The waiter blinked once, slowly. Reyna was giving him a full bodied smile. His heart was probably palpitating. “It’s, um, Marc—Marco.”

There you go, buddy, I thought to myself. It was followed quickly by an odd punch of relief I didn’t see coming.

Reyna had tried to elbow me for flirting with Alyssa, who I was only that nice to because Dominic threatened me and said that she was the reason his wife was alive.

Wasn’t sure of the accuracy of that statement, but I listened.

Reyna had elbowed me in the gut when she thought I was flirting. The idea of Marc Marco doing the same gave me the strangest urge to slam his head into the table.

I brushed it away. That would cause a scene and was therefore irrational.

No matter how compelling it seemed.

“Well, Marco,” Reyna said smoothly. “Thank you for the wine. Adrian and I will both try it.”

“Spectacular,” he said, making quick work of uncorking the wine bottle. I wasn’t sure how long it took him. I didn’t even really care.

What was more important was that Reyna and I seemed to have gotten ourselves in a silent battle ofwho is going to drop eye contact first.

I barely noticed a small serving of wine poured in either of our glasses, not even glancing towards our waiter as he dropped the bottle on the table.

I knew it was rude. I just didn’t care.

Reyna reached for her glass, wrapping her fingers around the delicate stem. Her nails were painted a fiery red. A distant, primal part of me hoped that she owned lipstick that color.

My own hand curled around the stem and I had to consciously force my fingers to grip it gently.

Reyna and I lifted our glasses at the same time, both taking a long inhale to prime our palates, then tilting it back further to let the wine fall into our mouths. I kept my eyes on Reyna over the rim of my glass, watching as her lips curled around the edge. How her throat bobbed on a delicate swallow.

And when she lowered the glass and I noticed a small drip of wine on her lower lip, I almost jumped over the table.

I had to clear my throat to push away the thought.

Reyna took another long pull of air, her chest rising more than normal, while her eyes danced over my face, probably trying to figure out why I looked seconds away from snapping the stem of the wine glass in half.

Marc Marco swallowed loud enough to pull my focus. “Did you, um…like it?”

Like what?I almost asked.

“The wine was delicious, thank you Marco,” Reyna said, smiling easily at him. Clearly, I needed to take a lesson in composure from her. “I think we are ready to order, if you are?”

“Yes, of course, yes,” he rushed out, fumbling for his notepad.

Reyna and I shared a glance and a ghost of a smile—just for me—appeared on her lips.

That would be happening again, I decided. It was absolutely necessary.