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“Why are you here, Reign?”

“To find out the truth.” His voice drops lower. “Who are you, really? The woman in San Diego who talked about art for hours? Or this society princess engaged to a mobster?”

Pain lances through me at the question that has haunted me since returning to Cooper Heights.

“Both. Neither. I don’t know anymore.”

Something shifts in his expression. His eyes search mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away. I don’t.

“Why him?” The question contains a depth of emotion that catches me off guard. “Why Vega?”

I look away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. “It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it.” His fingers capture my chin, forcing my eyes back to his. “Make me understand why you’re with a man who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

Surprise flickers through me. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Gio.”

His thumb traces the line of my jaw, the gentleness of the touch at odds with the tension radiating from him. “I know he doesn’t see you. Not the real you anyway.”

“And you do?” I challenge, desperate to regain some control. “After one night?”

“Yes.” The certainty in his voice steals my breath. “I see you, Audrey Worthington. The woman who sketches with her left hand even though she writes with her right. Who talks about color theory with more passion than most people feel in a lifetime. Who has a small scar on her inner thigh that makes her gasp when it’s kissed.”

“Reign, please stop.”

“Why?” He leans closer, and his lips brush my ear. “Because I’m right? Because Vega doesn’t know these things about you? Because he’s never taken the time to learn what makes you come apart?”

“Because I’m engaged.” My voice trembles. “Because what happened in San Diego can never happen again.”

“Yet here we are.” He pulls back enough to meet my eyes. “Locked in a bathroom while your fiancé mingles outside. That doesn’t strike me as the behavior of a woman committed to her engagement.”

Anger flares in my chest. “You followed me.”

“And you ran.” He counters without hesitation. “Straight to the one place where we could be alone. Interesting choice for someone claiming our night together was a mistake.”

My hands press against his chest, and I feel the solid wall of muscle beneath expensive fabric. I tell myself I’m preparing to push him away.

I don’t.

“What do you want from me?” I ask him.

“Everything.”

“You can’t have everything. I just told you that I’m engaged.”

“Do you love him?”

He’s so close now I can feel his breath on my face, see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“I respect what he’s done for my family’s company.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I swallow hard. “No, I don’t love him.”

“Have you fucked him?”

I should be offended by the question, should tell him it’s none of his business. Instead, I find myself desperate to reassure him.