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NINETEEN
HADLEY
Theo steps out of the bedroom wearing a tuxedo and I nearly fall over. He looks too good. The cut of the suit is perfect for his broad shoulders and trim waist. He’s also recently had his hair trimmed; it’s neatly slicked back, highlighting the strands of silver spread throughout his dark hair.
A low whistle sails from my lips. “Well, Mr. Franklin, I’m pretty sure my mama taught me all about men like you.”
He fiddles with a set of gold cufflinks on his wrist before lifting his head, his gaze landing on me with a shiver-inducing heat. “And what did she teach you,” he asks with a smirk.
“To stay away.” He takes one step forward and I take one step back, holding up a hand. “She told me men who look as good as you do are nothing but trouble.”
His rich laughter warms me as he gets close enough to snag me around the waist. “If only I had been taught a similar lesson.” His gaze darts down as it travels the length of my body. “You’re gorgeous.”
Pride blooms inside me from his compliment. When I found the dress, I was worried he wouldn’t like it because I didn’t purchase it from the mall or a department store; it came from a vintage clothing boutique. The black dress hugs my frame, as if it was made for my curves, and cinches my waist. I feel beautiful wearing it but Theo saying I’m gorgeous is different.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He clears his throat and I notice him wince, as if he’s in pain or perhaps nervous. “This is the first time I’ve actually attended the firm’s gala.”
I blink, too stunned to speak.
“Serena never wanted to attend these events, which I guess now I understand why, and I didn’t want to go alone.” He shrugs as if this isn’t a big deal, but it is important. “So, I never went.”
My chest rises as I breathe in deep and exhale loudly. “Well, no pressure or anything, right?”
“The event is so large I don’t know how many people I’ll actually know. Don’t sweat it. And if it’s terrible or boring or terribly boring, then we’ll leave, come home, and fuck.” He reaches down and adjusts himself. “Which doesn’t seem like a bad idea considering how stunning you look right now. I’ll be counting down the minutes until I can get you out of that very nice dress and into something not-so-nice.”
His clean-cut exterior contrasts with the filthy way he talks to me. I would never have expected him to be so crass or so dominant, but the dark side of him is alluring and sexy. The explicit way he describes what he wants to do to me or the way he bends me over any available surface while whispering the dirtiest words in my ear acts like a magnet, drawing me to him. This level of seduction and desire is new, and sometimes it’s unsettling, but other times, like now, I want to give myself over to him.
“Then we better shake a leg, because the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”
He rubs a finger over his lips and then says, “Not yet. I think you forgot something.”
“What?” Is it possible he knows I’m not wearing panties?
He pulls something out of his pocket; it’s a small, black velvet box. “I saw these yesterday and I couldn’t help myself, so I picked them up.”
I’m hesitant to take the box from him, but it’s a gift and there seems to be a twinkle of excitement in his eye. I can’t bring myself to turn him down simply because I’m stubborn. I lift the box from his hand and slowly open it. I’m not sure what I was expecting to be inside, but it wasn’t a pair of pearl earrings.
“I read somewhere recently that Southern women love pearls.”
I’m pretty sure that’s a lie but I don’t have the heart to tell him. “Thank you,” I breathe out.
“I noticed you’re already wearing earrings, but I thought . . .” His voice trails off and suddenly, he’s avoiding my gaze.
“Are you nervous, Theo?”
“Maybe I am,” he admits with a slight smile.
“Of course I’ll wear them.” I excuse myself and head into the half-bathroom to quickly change out my cheap costume pair for the ones he bought me. They’re a perfect match to my vintage dress.
There’s a limo waiting for us when we finally leave. I expect Theo to get handsy once we’re settled in the back, but he surprises me by keeping my hand locked in his. His knee bobs up and down, and it seems the closer we get to our destination, the faster his leg shakes. I place a hand on his thigh, hoping to calm him.
He stills for a moment, but soon I feel a tremor under my palm. Is there something he’s not telling me about the event? Is there more at stake than a night out with a bunch of wealthy, stuck-up executives?
The car stops in front of the Portland Museum of Art and the door immediately opens. Theo steps out first before extending his hand to help me exit. The brick exterior of the museum is impressive and intimidating, as is the line of cars extending behind ours.
This really is a big deal, and now I have a better understanding of Theo’s nerves. As we walk up the steps toward the entrance, I can’t help but feel as if I’m entering the lion’s den and wonder if I’ll make it out alive.
