Page 109 of Made for Reign

The door swings open, and Gio steps inside. He’s immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and blue tie that probably costs more than most people’s monthly rent. His dark hair is perfectly styled, his expression composed. He carries a silver tray with what appears to be dinner—a covered plate, a glass of wine, silverware wrapped in a linen napkin. Like this is a romantic evening rather than a kidnapping.

“Ah, you’re awake.” His accent thickens slightly, the way it does when he’s pleased. “I was beginning to worry the sedative was too strong.”

“Where are my shoes?” It’s not the most pressing question, but it’s the one that makes it past my lips.

He smiles, setting the tray on the small table in the sitting area. “Is that really your first concern,cara? Not ‘why am I here’ or ‘what do you want’?”

“I know why I’m here.” I keep my voice steady despite the fear churning in my stomach. “And I know what you want.”

“Do you?” He gestures to the chair opposite the one he’s standing behind. “Please, sit. You must be hungry.”

I don’t move. “I want to leave.”

“And I want my fiancée back.” He removes the silver cover from the plate, revealing what looks like risotto with truffle shavings. “It seems we both want things we cannot have at the moment.”

“I’m not your fiancée anymore. I made that clear this morning.”

“Did you?” He sits, smoothing his tie with manicured fingers. “I recall a conversation where you were confused and emotional. Hardly a binding decision.”

The casual dismissal of my choice ignites anger that burns through my fear. “I returned your ring. I ended our engagement. There was nothing confused about it.”

“A temporary setback.” He pours wine into the single glass on the tray. “You’ve been under considerable stress lately. Lucille and I agree you need time to...recalibrate.”

“Lucille?” The mention of her sends ice through my veins. “What does she have to do with this?”

Gio takes a sip of wine, watching me over the rim of the glass. “Lucille called me immediately after your...dramatic exit from her office. She was quite concerned about your mental state.”

The betrayal shouldn’t hurt. I’ve known for years that Lucille’s loyalty is to the Worthington name, not to me, but it does. A deep, twisting pain that momentarily steals my breath.

“So, this is, what? An intervention?” I gesture to the locked room. “Kidnapping me is for my own good?”

“Such dramatic language.” He sighs, setting down his glass. “You haven’t been kidnapped, Audrey. You’re simply taking a much-needed break before our wedding. In fact, Lucille has already informed the appropriate parties that you’re at a wellness retreat, focusing on pre-wedding self-care.”

The calculated nature of their plan makes my blood run cold. No one will look for me. No one will question my absence. No one except Reign.

“How long have you known?” I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.

Gio’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “About your...dalliance with the security contractor? Longer than you might think.”

He reaches into his jacket and removes several photographs, placing them on the table beside the untouched food. I don’t need to look closely to know what they show. Reign and me. Together.

“My security team is quite thorough,” he continues, his voice conversational as if discussing the weather. “The cabin in the mountains. The art competition in San Diego. Even that charming diner on the edge of town where you thought no one would recognize you.”

Each location he names feels like a violation. Our private moments, our sanctuary, all under surveillance. I think of Reign’s cabin, of the studio he built for me, of the freedom I felt there. All an illusion.

“If you knew, why wait until now?” I ask, needing to understand his strategy.

“I was curious how far you would take this little rebellion.” He straightens the photographs, aligning their edges with precise movements. “I wanted to see if you would come to your senses on your own. When it became clear you wouldn’t, intervention became necessary.”

“Intervention,” I repeat, the word bitter on my tongue. “You mean abduction.”

“Call it what you will.” He stands, buttoning his jacket with practiced ease. “The result is the same. You’ll remain here until you’ve had time to reconsider your rash decisions. Once you’re thinking clearly again, we’ll proceed with our wedding as planned.”

“And if I never ‘reconsider’?” I challenge, meeting his gaze directly.

“You will.” His confidence chills me to the bone. “You’re a practical woman, Audrey. You understand what’s at stake. Your family’s company, Lucille’s security, your own future. All of it depends on our union.”

“I don’t love you.” The words burst from me, raw and honest.

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