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The command sends me spiraling over the edge again, my body clenching around him. He follows with a harsh groan, his face buried in my shoulder as he empties himself inside me. We stay locked together for a long moment, then Reign pulls back to look at me.

“Give me your phone,” he says suddenly.

I blink at him, still trying to catch my breath. Of all the things I expected him to say after what just happened, that wasn’t one of them.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Your phone. Give it to me.”

“Why?”

His jaw tightens. “Because I’m not letting you disappear on me again. I spent two weeks going out of my mind wondering if you were real or if I’d imagined the whole thing.”

The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest ache. I reach for my purse with shaking hands and pull out my phone, handing it to him without another word.

He takes it and starts typing, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. After a moment, his own phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at it, then hands mine back to me.

“There. Now I have your real number, and you have mine.”

I stare down at the contact he’s created: “Reign.”

Simple. Direct. Like everything else about him.

He tilts my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his eyes. “From now on, when you’re feeling turned on or need to come, you call me.”

My head spins at the audacity of what he’s saying. “Reign, I’m engaged.”

“For now.”

“What do you mean, for now?”

“I mean that you and me are happening, Princess. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

Before I can respond, he captures my mouth in another searing kiss that leaves me dizzy and desperate. When he pulls back, his thumb traces my swollen lips.

“Fix your dress,” he orders, stepping back. “And I’ll be in touch soon.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me sitting on the bathroom counter with my dress bunched around my waist and my mind reeling.

With trembling fingers, I smooth my hair back into place and adjust my dress. But I can’t erase the flush on my cheeks or the satisfied glow in my eyes.

I can only hope the dark lighting of the club will hide what just happened.

The sounds of the party drift up from the floors below as I leave the bathroom and make my way to the elevator.

The thought of facing Gio after what just happened makes my stomach clench with dread. How will I look him in the eye? How will I pretend nothing has changed when everything has?

The elevator doors open, and I step inside, watching my reflection in the mirrored walls. I practice the smile I’ve perfected over years of galas and charity events. Pleasant. Composed. Revealing nothing of the storm raging inside me.

By the time the doors open on the main floor, I’ve reassembled my mask.

I step out and scan the crowd for Gio. Finally, I see him standing near the bar. Even from this distance, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes dart around the room as he looks for me.

Shit.

I’ve been gone too long.

Before I can move toward him, my gaze collides with Reign’s from across the room.

He’s standing next to Marcus with a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, but his attention is fixed entirely on me.

The intensity of his stare sends heat coursing through my veins.

I force myself to look away, but the damage is done.

I feel marked by him, claimed in a way that both terrifies and thrills me.

“There you are.” Gio’s voice startles me. “I was about to send someone to find you.”

I turn to him with my practiced smile. “Sorry. There was a line.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “You missed my toast to Ben.”

“I’m… I—I wasn’t feeling well.”

He wraps an arm around my waist. “Are you better now?”

“Actually, I’m still not feeling well,” I say, touching my temple lightly. “I think I need to call it an early night.”

His grip on my waist tightens. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a headache. Too much excitement, I think. You should stay, though. This is your night to celebrate Ben’s victory.”

“Nonsense. If you’re not feeling well, we leave together.”

“Really, Gio, you don’t need to?—”

“I said we’re leaving.” He signals to one of his men across the room with a subtle nod. “Marco will bring the car around.”

I want to protest, to insist I can take a rideshare home, but the steel in his eyes stops me.

“Of course,” I murmur, my stomach sinking.

As we move toward the exit, I can’t help but glance back toward where Reign was standing.

He’s still there, his pale eyes tracking our movement across the room.

Even from this distance, I feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

Those eyes burn into my back as Gio guides me through the crowd, his hand firmly planted at the base of my spine.

The elevator ride down seemingly takes an eternity. Gio stands beside me in silence, but I can feel his mood shifting, darkening like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. By the time we reach the ground floor, the tension radiating from him is almost suffocating.

The black SUV is waiting at the curb, engine running. Marco holds the door open as Gio helps me into the backseat, then slides in beside me. The partition between us and the driver is raised, creating an intimate cocoon that suddenly feels more like a trap.

For the first several blocks, neither of us speaks. The city lights blur past the tinted windows as we navigate through Cooper Heights’ downtown district. I keep my hands folded in my lap, hyperaware of every breath, every shift of his body beside me.

“You were gone for a long time,” he says finally, his voice deceptively calm.

My pulse quickens. “Was I? I didn’t realize.”

“Forty-three minutes.”

The precision of his answer makes my blood run cold. He was timing me.

“The line for the bathroom was really long,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. “And then I ran into a few people on the way back. You know how these events are—everyone wants to chat.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“Just some wives of the other investors. Nothing important.” Another lie, but delivered with the same practiced ease as all the others.

“Hmm.” The sound is noncommittal, but I can feel him weighing my words, searching for cracks in my story.

The silence stretches between us again, thick with unspoken tension. I stare out the window, watching familiar landmarks pass by, each one bringing us closer to home and this uncomfortable interrogation to an end.

Then his hand lands on my thigh. The touch isn’t gentle or affectionate. His fingers press into my flesh with just enough pressure to make his point clear.

“I understand that being in the public eye can be overwhelming,” he continues, his thumb tracing a small circle against my skin that feels more threatening than tender. “But disappearing, making me wonder where you are, that can’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” I whisper, hating how small my voice sounds.

“Good.” He releases my thigh but doesn’t move his hand away. Instead, he lets it rest there like a brand, a reminder of his claim on me. “Because I would hate for there to be any...misunderstandings about where your loyalties lie.”

The SUV turns into the long driveway of the Worthington estate. The familiar sight of home should bring relief, but tonight it feels like arriving at another kind of prison.

Marco brings the car to a stop in front of the main entrance, the headlights illuminating the imposing columns and massive oak door.

“Get some rest,” Gio says as Marco opens my door. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Of course.” I gather my purse and slide toward the door, desperate to escape the suffocating confines of the car. “Thank you for understanding about tonight.”

He catches my wrist as I move to exit, his fingers circling my bones with deceptive gentleness.

“Sweet dreams, bella ,” he murmurs, bringing my hand to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles.

The gesture should be romantic, but all I feel is the implicit threat beneath the tenderness. A reminder that he’s always watching, always aware, always in control.

I manage a smile and slip from the car, my legs unsteady as I climb the front steps. The SUV doesn’t pull away until I’ve unlocked the front door and stepped inside, the engine’s rumble finally fading into the distance.

Only then do I allow myself to breathe.

The foyer is dark except for the soft glow of the security lighting, casting long shadows across the marble floor. My heels click against the stone as I make my way toward the grand staircase, each step echoing in the cavernous space.

What have I done?

The question echoes in my mind as I walk into my bedroom and move to the bathroom, stripping off my dress with shaking hands. In the mirror, I see the evidence of Reign’s possession. Faint marks on my neck that will darken by morning, slight bruises forming on my hips where his fingers gripped me.

I step into the shower, letting hot water cascade over my skin.

It can’t wash away what happened, can’t erase the memory of Reign’s hands on me, his voice in my ear claiming me as his. Nor do I want it to. For the first time in years, I feel awake, alive, present in my own body instead of floating above it, observing my life from a distance.

As I dry off and slip into a silk nightgown, my phone chimes with a message. My heart races as I reach for it, knowing before I look who it will be from.

I can still taste you on my tongue, Princess.

Followed quickly by another one.

I love all the little sounds you make when I’m inside you.

Are you alone?

I pick up my phone and debate what to type. Finally, I respond:

I’m alone.

The phone rings a second later. It’s Reign. A little thrill runs through me at seeing his name on my screen.

“Hey, Princess,” his deep voice fills my ear when I answer. “Did you make it home safe?”

“Yes,” I whisper, suddenly feeling shy despite everything that just happened between us. “I’m home.”

“Good. Are you okay? You seem nervous.”

I sink onto the edge of my bed and pull my silk robe tighter around me. “I am nervous. This is all happening so fast, Reign. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I know it’s fast, baby. But you’re mine now, and I’m not giving you up without a fight.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends warmth spreading through my chest.

“I don’t know how?—”

“Let me take you to breakfast tomorrow,” he interrupts. “I want to see you again. There’s this little place on the edge of town. The Piney Creek Diner. Do you know it?”

I smile despite everything. “I used to go there with my dad when I was little.”

“Perfect. Can you get away? Say around eight?”

My mind races through my schedule.

“It’s tough. Lucille has appointments planned, but...” I take a breath, making another choice for myself. “I’ll manage it. I’ll be there.”

“Eight o’clock then.” The satisfaction in his voice is unmistakable. “And Audrey? Wear something I can get my hands under easily.”