I sit up. "Your parents want to see us?"
"It won’t be as formal as last time. It’s something my mother does every year when she decorates the house for the holidays."
I catch something else, a flicker of anticipation quickly suppressed. He's hiding something. Deliberately keeping it from bleeding through.
"Who will be there?" I ask.
"Uncle Marcus." He shrugs. "Other family members. Think of it as a simple get-together."
It sounds reasonable. Normal, even… for other people. But this is Margaret Ashford we’re talking about, and that flicker of hidden emotion is still lingering although Calder is trying to hide it.
"Okay," I say. "When?"
"Saturday." He pauses, and I wonder if he knows that’s my birthday. "I'd like to take you shopping first. Get you a dress. Something nice for dinner."
"Calder, I have the cashmere dress?—"
"Let me." His eyes meet mine. "Please. Let me spoil you. It would make me happy." The alpha instinct to provide is clear. "It's important to me that you feel beautiful. Please."
How can I argue with that?
"Okay." I smile. "You can spoil me."
Across the room, Tyler and Julian exchange glances. I sense more amusement and... something else. Like they know something I don't.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Nothing," Tyler says innocently. "You deserve to be spoiled."
“With more than just chamomile tea,” Julian adds.
Fine. Let them have their secrets. This time, I’ll be more prepared for Margaret Ashford.
The day before the get-together, I discover what shopping with Calder really means.
We drive to an upscale boutique in the city, the kind of place with individual dressing rooms and staff who bring you champagne while you browse.
"This is too much," I whisper when we enter.
"It's exactly right," he counters.
A sales assistant approaches, takes one look at my marks, and smiles knowingly. "Shopping for something special?"
"A dress," Calder says. "Something that makes her feel beautiful."
"You’ve come to the right place, sir."
I wonder if she learned that from a script when she first started working here.
Itake a seat while she gathers options for me to try on—elegant but not fussy, sophisticated without being uncomfortable. Deep jewel tones, soft fabrics, cuts that flatter without restricting.
I try on six dresses, my hair working loose from my braid, my cheeks growing hot and flustered, before finding the one.
It's emerald green, fitted at the bodice but flowing at the skirt. The neckline sits just low enough to show my marks clearly. The color makes my skin glow, brings out depths in my eyes I didn't know existed.
When I step out of the dressing room, Calder goes very still. "That one," he says, swallowing hard. "Definitely that one."
His emotion hits me like a gust of warm air: possessive pride, overwhelming love, fierce satisfaction.
