I could never earn her trust, not after the position I’ve put her in.
So I revert to type. Worsen my treatment of her. Continue to use her as a tool for my revenge.Because you’re afraid,a little voice whispers.Afraid of your feelings.
What does it matter? Even if it was true, in a few weeks, she’ll be nothing but an experience. Memories wadded up to be stuffed into an unexamined corner of my mind.I can only hope for this kindness.
“For your information, I don’t need your help. See?” Thrusting her arms out, she wiggles ten bloodred digits under my nose. “I also have a perfectly acceptable cocktail dress hanging in the closet. A little black dress is the friend to all occasions.”
“Almost all,” I murmur, turning the page on the report I’m supposed to be reading. “Just not to this one.” I slide off my glasses,vain bastard that I am, and glance up.My God, what is it about making her fiery that gets me so fucking hard?
“Do I look like I have hay in my hair?” she demands.
I take a moment, as though I check before answering. “Should there be?”
“You think I need fashion advice?” She pins her arms across her chest.
“No. You always look”—edible. It doesn’t matter what you wear, because I always want to take your clothes off—“nice.”
“Nice,” she repeats, but not in the same tone. “Listen,friend, I wasn’t raised in some no-name backwater—”
“Yes, so you said. Country club, horses, nasty, horrible rich men.” Leaning forward, I place the folder on the coffee table as I wave away her explanation—blah, blah, blah. Buying Eve gifts is a completely different experience than I’ve had in the past, but I can’t say I don’t prefer it this way.
But that’s not why you bought her the dress,the little voice whispers. Not the only reason, at any rate. It’s not a peace offering or an apology for the things I say but don’t always mean. I know it makes no sense that I swing from adoration to resentment simply because Atherton found her first.
Like that’s somehow her fault.
It’s just something I saw. Something that stopped me in my tracks as I took a break from the office earlier today. I found myself wandering into the boutique, and before I realized what I was doing, I’d guessed her size and had my credit card in my hand.
“You know, it seems to me you want to sabotage tonight, because there’s no way we’re gonna look like a couple in love,” Eve says. “We’ll be more like that couple seven years married and on the way to a divorce.”
“Sevenseems a very particular number.”
“That’s when boredom sets in,” she retorts airily but for the almost imperceptible pinch in her voice.
I could never imagine being bored of her.
“Wear it or don’t,” I murmur as I run my thumb over the edge of my fingernail, as though a possible rough edge might be more of interest.
“You think you can bend me however you see fit,” she says, spinning away.
“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to make you bend,” I mutter under my breath. Gripping the back of the sofa, I give in to a full-body stretch. She doesn’t bite, though her eyes devour. I do enjoy the way she pretends she’s unaffected by my physical appearance.Unlike my personality.I sigh and ruffle my hands through my hair, and I pop my biceps for effect. “I thought I was helping.”
“Railroading, more like. My God, I really need to move out. I hear the rent in Kabul is cheap and the regime a little more tolerant.”
“If you like blue. And full coverage.”
“At least I’d get to choose it for myself.”
“Just humor me, and open the bloody thing.” The words fall from my mouth with a rush of air. “I didn’t even pick it.”
“Then who did?” she demands.
“Your stylist. I haven’t seen it, but she assures me it’s perfect for an evening at Kensington Palace.”
“An evening where?”
“Kensington Palace. Don’t get too excited. It’s not like we’ll be dropping in on William and Kate. They no longer live there.”
“Do you ... know them?” she asks slowly. Suspiciously.
