“Uh…yeah.” I shake my head. “Sorry, it’s been a hectic morning.”
“I can only imagine.” Brenda smiles, her red lipstick bright against her dark skin. “Don’t let the media bother you. We get plenty of celebrities in here on what they think is the worst day of their lives, but things always turn around.”
Some of my tension bleeds out. “Thank you, Brenda.”
“You’re welcome.” She holds up the dresses. “Let’s see if we can make it better.”
Aiden
I press the buzzer for the boutique at five minutes ’til eleven. The box in my jacket pocket thumps gently against my thigh.
The last two hours were a rush of phone calls to Dominic and Cassian to speaking at length with my human resources and public relations consultants to ensure Seraphina and I stay within legalities while presenting the best possible front.
I also called George Randolph again. He didn’t sound like he was about to spit bullets, but he was still gruff and short. He declined my offer to have dinner with Seraphina and me this week. But he is coming to the Violet Masquerade next weekend. And he’s agreed to meet with Seraphina and me the day before to discuss not only our engagement but the New Field deal.
The clock’s ticking. A week to convince the world that Seraphina and I are desperately in love and create a positive narrative that will convince Randolph to continue to do business with me.
I think of David. Of Mom. I will not fail.
The lock disengages and I walk in. Brenda comes down the white marble staircase at the far end of the store.
“Hello, Mr. Hawke!”
“Hello again, Brenda.” I glance at the stairs. “How’s Seraphina doing?”
“Wonderful,” Brenda beams. “She’s picked out some lovely pieces. Needed a little encouragement, but I think we got her set up with everything she needed.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She hesitates. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but she’s very kind. You’re a lucky man.”
I smile slightly. “I am.”
Brenda nods toward the stairs. “She’s trying on one last gown. I’ll be up in a few minutes with boxes for her purchases.”
I pass by a grand piano and ascend the circular stairs. The jewelry box gently taps against my thigh with every step. When I walked into the store next door, I had a plan: buy the most expensive ring. I don’t know how to share my feelings, nor do I care to learn. But I do know how to treat the women in my life well, showering them with gifts in lieu of emotional fondness. To date, only a couple have pushed for more in terms of affection.
But as the owner pulled out some of his priciest rings, one caught my eye. As soon as I took a better look, I knew it was the one for Seraphina. The engagement might be fake, but her loyalty is real, as is her commitment to seeing the New Field deal through. She deserves a ring that’s more her style.
The last time I bought something for a woman because I thought she’d like it was Melanie. A silver necklace with a crescent moon after weeks of saving change from the wallets we stole. When I presented it to her, she’d told me she liked it even as she played with the diamond studs in her ears.
Idiot. The signs were there almost from the beginning. She used me, and I was too lovesick, too desperate for an emotional attachment, that I let myself be blinded.
Never again. I’ve kept that vow for the past twenty years. I won’t break it for anyone. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do something nice for Seraphina, especially after seeing how much her parents’ reaction to the news of our engagement hurt her.
I near the top of the stairs. A not insignificant slice of guilt powered my decision-making. I hadn’t thought about the impact our engagement would have on Seraphina’s loved ones. I’ve seen the photo of her and her parents on her desk, know that she visits them at least twice a month. I’d lay my life on the line for Dominic and Cassian, but I don’t share personal details with them. Even David and I keep our private lives private despite getting together once a month.
But it hurt her. Hurt the people she loves. The stricken look on her face when I asked if everything was all right, followed by that empty laugh I’ve never heard from her before, cut me.
This is just one of many reasons I’m not meant for a long-term relationship. I become fixated on projects, on goals and deadlines, to the point of not seeing anything or anyone else. It’s a hard habit to break, especially when it’s led to so much success.
I reach the top of the stairs. Another long hallway with alcoves leading into private dressing rooms, complete with antique-inspired lounge furniture, small chandeliers, and silk curtains hiding the changing room behind the gilded mirrors.
I glance to my right. And freeze.
Seraphina is standing on a dais in front of a mirror. She’s facing away from me, her hair still pulled up into the same loose bun, leaving her back bare to my gaze.
My cock grows so hard it’s almost painful. My eyes roam over the line of black satin that starts just above her waist and falls into sweeping folds about her feet. As my gaze travels up, I note the satin looped around her neck.
