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When I told her love is a weakness, I meant it. The only good use for it is manipulation. Nothing works better than a person’s love for another to ensnare them. Even idiots like Gardello are susceptible. He just didn’t love a person; he loved money more than anything else. Which ultimately led to his downfall.
Soo finds me still in the chair a little while later. “Everything good?”
I nod and stand to go back to the other side of my desk and get back to work. She’s distracted me long enough, and I need to ensure everything is settled before tonight. If even one thing falls through the cracks, the entire event can be ruined.
Soo stands in front of my desk, a look I don’t like on his face.
I snatch up a piece of paper that had fluttered to the floor in my fight with Celia. “What’s your problem?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. You seem worried, is all, and if I’m being honest, you’re not usually one to show any type of fear or concern.”
His assumption of me being worried or afraid is annoying. “Well, I don’t know. Today is the event we have been working toward for years, Soo. I’m entitled to fuss over the proceedings. They are mine, after all. Just do your part. Did you get the clothes for her?”
He waves at a black paper bag by the door. “Everything she will need is in there. Have you considered what you’ll do if she refuses to get ready?”
I shrug. “I don’t give a fuck. If she won’t put on the clothes I’ve provided, then she can walk into the warehouse naked. I’m sure the buyers would love that even more than the dress.”
The thought of all those men looking at her bare flesh makes me want to punch something.
I stare down my second-in-command. “Fine, a new proposition, then. If she fights you on getting dressed, tell her that I’ll come in and dress her myself. And once I’ve put her in the slinkiest, sexiest thing I can find, I’ll tie her up in ropes and walk her into the warehouse hogtied. Let’s see which she will prefer.”
Soo dips his head, a smile playing on his lips. He just might enjoy fighting with her. And I hate him a little bit for it.
25
Celia
The bastard wants me in ribbons. A stylist showed up at mid-day, and while I endured her attentions as she fussed with my hair, waxed me to within an inch of my life, and expertly applied makeup, so I didn’t even look made up, I hated every second.
Once she leaves, I slip back into the shirt and wait for whatever costume Nicolo has prepared for me. A maid skirts into the room carrying a dress bag a few moments later. She places it on the door to my closet.
“Thank you,” I tell her, even if the dress and this place leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth.
As soon as she retreats from the room, I climb off the bed and walk over to the closet, pulling the zipper on the bag down to inspect the contents. I’m not surprised to find it’s a deep red, almost wine color, and barely what I would call a dress. The front of the dress has a panel that is little more than lace, and the back is open, save a thin ribbon crisscrossing from the top of the barely-there skirt to where it ends just under my shoulder blades.
Jesus, I can’t wear this. I might as well wear nothing.
As I stare at the dress, I can’t figure out how I’m going to get into it. A knock draws my attention to the door just as Soo comes walking in. I grab the dress off the door and carry it over to the bed.
“Glad the dress made it to you,” he says. “Can I help you?”
I glare at him and wave at the red scrap of clothing. “You call this a dress? I’ve worn underwear with more material than this thing.”
Soo approaches and stares down at it. “Nic picked it out personally. He wants you to wear it, so you can either put it on, or he has other ideas in mind. And as you know, he has a vivid imagination.” His tone is bland, and I can’t tell if he cares or not.
He continues before I can think of something both witty and cutting to reply with. “Sorry I missed you yesterday. I stopped by your room to give you those pants and coffee, but you were …detained.”
I snort, and my cheeks flood with heat. “You mean I was fucking your boss.”
He picks up the dress and deftly loosens the straps carefully and almost methodically. “He’s not my boss. He’s my best friend. We’re partners.”
Once he finishes, he kneels at my feet to help me into the material, but I retreat. “No, thank you. I can get dressed on my own. I don’t need your help.”
