Page 23

Reign

I button the last cuff of my shirt as I look at myself in the bedroom mirror at the estate mansion. I'm wearing a black suit, no jacket. The lines are sharp, tailored to skim my frame like second skin, just the way I like it.

The suit is new, from Italy, and hand stitched.

It cost more than I’d ever admit. I collect suits the way others collect paintings or vinyl.

It’s the only part of my life I can control down to the millimetre, the only part that never slips from my grasp.

And there’s no way I could fit my full collection in the guest house closet.

Behind me, Lando is sprawled across the edge of my bed, already dressed for whatever party he has tonight. His shirt is a soft navy, sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins in his forearms. He’s been watching me get ready in silence, full of unspoken questions.

“I’m not going to pretend like I’m fully on board with this,” he finally says, his tone casual on the surface but laced with warning. “Asking Angelique on a dinner date after you abandoned her. ”

I adjust my collar, glancing at him through the mirror, keeping my voice even. “It’s not a date.”

He snorts, leaning back slightly. “You and I both know this is a date. You’re just too scared to call it what it is.”

I turn away from the mirror, reach for the one of a kind Patek Philippe resting in the transparent case on my dresser, and fasten the strap around my wrist as I speak. “It’s not a date,” I say again.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and the air between us thickens. “Listen, Reign, we both know your track record with your previous dance partners doesn’t exactly scream… gentle. I just want to make sure you’re not setting her up for more pain.”

I let that sit between us, unbothered, because he’s not wrong and there’s no point pretending otherwise. I’ve burned through too many people to count, pushed them until they cracked just to prove I could. His reservations are valid.

“It’s different with her,” I say finally.

“Different how?”

I meet his eyes without blinking. “I don’t want to break her.”

Lando tilts his head, his voice dropping lower. “She’s already broken.”

I let out a quiet breath, and a small nod of concession. “Then I don’t want to break what’s left.”

“Do you…still have feelings for her?” His gaze narrows, sharp and focused.

The question lands with an almost physical thud between us. My lip curls as I pause and turn toward him with a look of vague disgust. “Don’t be daft.”

“Would it be such a far-off thing to assume?” he asks, not letting up. “You two have a history and you care about her, that's obvious. More than I’ve seen you care about anyone in years.”

I shoot him a warning glance as I finish adjusting the watch. “Don’t start. The only thing I care about is giving the audience the perfect Swan Lake and I can't do that if my partner doesn’t trust me.”

He sighs like he expected that answer. “Just promise me you won’t lead her on.”

“I won’t lead her on.”

Lando holds my gaze a moment longer, reading something in my expression, and whatever he sees must satisfy him because he rises from the bed and smooths out the front of his shirt.

“Alright. That’s all I needed to hear.”

He walks out of my room, his footsteps fading down the hallway as I turn back to the mirror and give myself one final once-over. The watch clicks closed around my wrist, the sound sharp and definitive, like punctuation at the end of a thought I haven’t fully finished.

Dinner with Angelique. What could go wrong?