Chapter 16
REGGIE
I push through the door, boots heavy against the polished floor, and head straight for the kitchen.
I’ve been up since the ass crack of dawn, discussing our plans to take down The Preacher, now their latest find has given us two solid leads to torture.
The first thing I see is Rowan. Too close. The second thing I see is Bella sitting there on a stool, her tank top smeared with caramel, cheeks flushed, smiling at me like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
And I know. I fucking know.
Rowan’s hair is still damp, his shirt clinging. He looks like he’s been caught stealing, but he schools his features too quickly. Bella? She doesn’t even flinch. She just stares at me, wide green eyes daring me to say something.
I don’t.
Instead, I strip my jacket off, toss it over a chair, and mutter, “Smells like eggs.”
Rowan clears his throat. “Yeah. Breakfast. You want some?”
“No.” My voice is flat.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrew the cap, and take a long swig. My jaw ticks the whole time, and I pray neither of them notices the way my hands tighten on the bottle.
Inside, rage claws through me. Bella is under my skin. But I can’t show that. Not yet. Not in front of Rowan.
So I lean against the counter, arms crossed, face carved into stone. “You two seem to be getting along.”
Rowan flashes that easy grin, the one that makes women melt. “Well, someone’s gotta show her around. You weren’t exactly playing tour guide.”
Bella smirks into her mug, sipping slowly like she’s enjoying the tension. She knows exactly what she’s doing, making me watch her with my brother.
Being the damn brat I know she is.
“Good,” I say, voice sharp enough to cut. “Glad you’re making yourself useful, Rowan.”
His grin falters for just a second. Bella raises a brow at me, like she’s testing how far she can push.
Those green eyes of hers dare me to react, like she wants me to snap.
I don’t.
Instead, I swallow it down, let my face go blank, and lean against the counter. “Rowan,” I say evenly, “get ready for work. You’ll enjoy today's task.”
He freezes for a fraction of a second, then masks it with a shrug. “Yeah, alright.” He wipes his hands on a dish towel, but his eyes flick between me and Bella. Testing. Always testing.
He drops her plate of eggs in front of her with an apologetic smile.
“Thanks, rockstar,” she whispers.
I arch a brow at my brother. We will be discussing this nickname.
That gets him moving. He disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with her.
Bella sips her latte. Sweet. Innocent. Deadly.
“Enjoying yourself?” I ask.
“Immensely,” she purrs, voice thick with that British lilt.
My jaw tightens, but I keep my posture lazy, like she hasn’t already burrowed under my skin. “Good. Because it ends now.”
Her smile falters, just slightly.
“We’re not playing house, Bella,” I continue, voice low. “This isn’t a vacation or some game you can flirt your way through. You and I have business. A marriage. An alliance. And it’s past time we talked about what that means.”
She raises a brow, cocky as ever. “Oh? Finally ready to have a real conversation with your fiancée?”
I step closer, enough to smell the vanilla clinging to her skin, but not close enough to touch.
“It’s been eight hours, Bella. You’ve been asleep six of them. Are you really that needy, Princess?” I whisper.
Her mouth makes a perfect ‘o’.
“I don’t like being left alone. I will get into trouble, Reggie.”
“Clearly,” I mutter, unamused.
“Dinner tonight? At our house. Alone. We’ll go over the terms of this engagement properly.”
Her lips part, and I see the spark in her eyes—the thrill, the defiance.
“Our house,” I repeat, letting the words sink in.
Because she needs to understand. This isn’t Rowan’s game. It isn’t her game.
It’s mine.
“Fine,” she huffs.
“And what am I meant to do all day?” she asks, elbows resting on the table.
“What are your hobbies? Or I don’t know? Do you read?”
She blushes.
“You wanna take me book shopping, Irish?”
I shrug, and she stands, then she squeezes my bicep.
“I’d need a big, strong man like you to carry my smutty book haul round.” She winks and then she’s gone, like this place is hers.
Leaving me watching her ass sway as she struts down the hallway with her plate of eggs my brother cooked her.