Reign:
I’m propped against the bar, glass heavy in one hand, the other lazily tracing the edge, though I’m barely aware of the liquid inside. My attention isn’t on the exorbitant amount of imported alcohol, or the gilded ceiling, or even the chatter of elites dangling their fortunes like keys to a playground. My gaze is pinned somewhere else. Eleanor Windsor.
I don’t even realize who's standing beside me until she brushes against my arm. Blonde, tall, overdone bood job and Botox, preening like she owns the night. Brielle, Blair, no, Brianna—socialite, trust-fund princess, every bit the thing meant to draw eyes. Except she didn’t draw mine—well, not since a week ago, before this thing with Ellie. And right now, the air between us is hot enough to ignite.
"Hi, Reign," she leaned in and w
