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“Close the blinds, Monica.”
She swallows and rushes to the window. It’s clear Midas is used to getting his way.
“Try on the first dress, Jeslyn.” He inclines his chin towards the pile of dresses Tomás left on the chair.
“Let’s get something straight.” I put my hands on my hips. Time to test my theory. “You can’t just order me around. You’re not my boss, or my husband, or some king.”
He leans back and looks up at me. His eyes glint and gleam, sparking with heated intent. “I may not be your king, Ra’a, but you are my queen.”
Monica gasps from somewhere behind me, but I ignore her.
“Prove it.”
His expression gives away nothing of his thoughts. “What is it you want?”
“I’m going to change in the dressing room, and you’re going to sit there like a good little boy and wait until I try something on I want to show you.”
The corner of his lip twitches, and I hold my breath, hoping it will turn into a smile. It doesn’t, but there’s an amusement in his eyes that makes me grin back at him.
“As you wish, my jewel.” He dips his chin in something like a half-bow.
When I turn around to go to the dressing room, Monica has her mouth hanging open like she can’t believe what she just saw. When our eyes meet, she snaps her jaw closed, scoops up a pile of dresses, and says, “This way.”
I hate the first three dresses, but the fourth is beautiful. I pick up the skirts, which are way too long on me, and go out to the main room.
Monica must be in the back, because it’s just the two of us. And the dogs, who are mostly sleeping. Charlie lifts his head when I come in, but sets it back on his paws almost immediately.
Midas stands up, and his gaze travels over my body as I step onto the platform in front of the mirrors.
He follows and circles me like a hawk who’s spotted prey. From behind me, he pinches the thick strap over my shoulder and pulls it up a little. His other hand, fists a handful of the dress in the back, tightening it around me. I thought it fit pretty well, but now it fits like a glove. “You look beautiful.”
My belly flutters, pulse jumping. I’ve never had a man call me beautiful before. I don’t feel like I’m unattractive, but I don’t exactly maintain my appearance—how can I when there are a hundred other more important things to do than get a facial and dye my hair?
He lets go of the fabric, no longer touching me, but still standing close enough for me to feel his heat. “But it’s too casual. You should look like the queen you are.”
“Wow, no wonder Monica is such a goner for you.” I turn around to face him. “I’ve never met a man with a tongue as smooth as yours.”
“Would you like to see how smooth my tongue really is, Jeslyn?”
The images that flood my mind make my chest warm and my thighs clench. I swallow and lick my lips. He mirrors the motion. My skin feels too tight. The light dress, suddenly too bulky.
Impulsively, I turn around, lifting my hair off my neck. “Unzip me?”
The back of the dress is low, and we both know I can reach around just fine. He curls one hand around the edge of the fabric and holds it while he slowly lowers the zipper, sliding it down the small of my back and over the curve of my ass.
My breaths are shallow and fast. His are hot on my neck. I slide one sleeve off and then the other, letting the dress fall and pool at my feet. Midas skims his knuckles down my bare arm, an innocent touch, considering the fact that I’m standing here in nothing but my bra and panties.
This is so unlike me. I’ve never gotten naked in front of a stranger before. I really wish I wasn’t wearing a t-shirt bra and cotton undies with a hole just below the waistband, but Midas doesn’t seem to mind. His gaze takes on a hungry appreciation as he walks backwards away from me and sinks onto the couch. “Try on the red one.”
The dresses that I didn’t take with me into the dressing room are spread out on the other couch. There’s only one red one. It’s a dark velvet that might be the most deliciously soft thing I’ve ever touched.
I’m not the girl who touches elegant fabrics. Or goes to fancy parties. Or has a guy stare at her the way Midas is staring at me now. My life is made up of Top Ramen, dog cuddles, murder mystery podcasts, and taking care of my sister. Not stripping in front of Upper East Side business men who buy me expensive clothes.
But this is a once in a lifetime experience, and I’m going to embrace every minute of it. Tomorrow, Midas will cast me aside, just like he did with Monica. But tonight, I’m going to pretend I’m Cinderella and he’s my fairy godmother and Prince Charming all rolled into one.
Just as I’m stepping into the red dress, someone jiggles the handle on the front door. Then knocks.
“My sister!” I trip over the dress in my haste to get to the door, but Midas is there faster than should be possible, catching me before I crash into the floor.
