My jaw clenches as I look out through the window, the city moving past without pulling my attention with it. I have no use for complications, no interest in anything that doesn’t stay where I put it. And yet…
“She looks like a Daisy,” Ivy says suddenly, nodding toward Daisy before pointing at the puppy. “So, he can’t be another flower. That would be weird.”
I glance at her again. “And you decided that already?”
“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “It has to make sense.”
Of course it does.
I look back out the window, already thinking ahead to tomorrow night at my estate. My cock twitches. This is a decision I intend to see through.
5
MAGGIE
By six-fifteen, Jules has me parked on a stool in front of my bedroom mirror while he stands behind me with a curling wand in one hand and entirely too much authority for someone who doesn’t live here.
My bed is covered in dresses I’ve already rejected. There’s a navy dress at the foot of the bed, a pale green one twisted near the pillows, and a red one sliding halfway to the floor like it’s trying to escape. A single black heel is tipped over in the middle of everything, abandoned mid-decision.
I watch him in the mirror as he works, sectioning my hair like a pro and wrapping a piece around the wand.
“Honey, you are not backing out,” he says, not even looking at me.
“I didn’t say I was backing out.”
“You didn’t have to. I can tell.” He lets a curl drop and grabs another piece of hair. “You get that look when you’re about to make a bad decision in the name of responsibility.”
“This is a responsible decision,” I say, even though my stomach is doing a tumbling routine I didn’t sign up for.
“You’ve changed dresses three times.”
“Four,” I mutter.
“Four,” he repeats, like he’s adding it to a file. “And rejected each one for a different reason, none of which made sense.”
I lift my hands in front of me, then drop them again so I don’t mess up what he’s doing. “The green one was too much.”
“It was fine.”
“The navy one was too plain.”
“It was also fine.”
“And the black one?—”
“Is the one you’re wearing,” he interrupts, giving my hair a quick twist before letting it fall. “And for the record, it’s the right choice.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “You say that like there was ever a world where you were going to let me wear anything else.”
“There wasn’t.” He smirks and grabs another section of hair. “With a man like Alexei, you don’t show up looking like you grabbed the first clean thing in your closet and hoped for the best.”
I fidget on the stool, the fabric of the black dress hugging a little closer than I’m used to. “I’m not trying to impress him.”
“Maggie.”
“I’m not,” I insist, then pause. “Not entirely.”
He hums under his breath like that tells him everything he needs to know.
