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Finally, a half-hour before the driver is supposed to be there, when I’ve showered and done a light face of makeup and dried my hair, curling just the ends so that they float over my skin, I slip on the dress.
It fits me perfectly, as if it were made for me. My pale skin glows almost translucent against the emerald green of the dress, the silk slipping over my figure, clinging to my waist, parting for the long stretch of my legs, the v of the neckline just barely showing the slight swells of my breasts on either side. The thin straps cling to my shoulders, so fragile that they give the impression that they could break loose at any moment, sending the fabric fluttering down.
The jewelry goes perfectly with it, the emerald teardrop hanging between my breasts, the earrings glinting from between the strands of my hair. I look like a princess, dressed all in emerald green—an Irish princess.
Liam’s princess.
Something in my stomach feels faintly cold at the thought. Saoirse is that, without a doubt. Well-bred, rich, meant to be the wife of an Irish King. I don’t want him to make me into Saoirse; I don’t want to simply replace her. I want him to want me formyself, as I want him for himself.
You’re putting too much thought into it,I tell myself as I look at my reflection, stepping carefully into the now-padded shoes. Liam bought me a beautiful dress, a color that would look lovely on me, the color of his eyes, and if it’s Irish green, there’s nothing wrong with him wanting to see me in that.
It doesn’t mean anything more.
My phone buzzes, a text from the driver telling me that he’s waiting. Hurriedly, I grab a few things and stash them in the slender gold clutch purse that I’d found wrapped in tissue, buried in the bottom of the box, and walk carefully to the elevator, conscious of my feet. The pads help a great deal, but I haven’t worn shoes like this in a long time. I’m also conscious of the way the scars wrap around, a few of them on the sides and tops of my feet, and the gnarly appearance of my ballerina’s toes. But the dress is long enough that you can barely see them, and since the pedicure Liam scheduled for me, they’re not as embarrassing to look at. Still, there’s a reason why ballerinas rarely wear open-toed shoes.
My days of pointe shoes and warped feet for ordinary reasons are far behind me, though. I try not to think of it as I go out to the waiting car, thanking the driver who holds the door for me as I slip inside. It still feels so strange to have something like this—a car waiting for me, someone who will take me wherever I please. I only have to ask.
I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it, if it’s something I evenshouldget used to. Liam’s life is a far cry from the one I would have had on my own or even with Alexandre. Alexandre was rich—a billionaire, probably, to be able to spend a hundred million on my purchase—but he’d lived more like an ordinary person, albeit an eccentric one.
I push Alexandre firmly out of my mind as the car pulls out into traffic, refusing to let him be a part of tonight. This night is about Liam and I, about what Liam has planned for us, and I want to enjoy it fully, without thoughts of anything or anyone else.
The car takes me to a gorgeous restaurant, something nestled away in a tall brick building with a garden patio out front. The hostess smiles at me when I tell her that I’m here to meet Liam McGregor. She whisks me away through a room full of crisp white tablecloths and mahogany booths to a table towards the back, with a candlelit chandelier above it and a string quartet playing faintly from the other side of the room.
Liam is sitting there, handsome in a tailored charcoal suit, his eyes bright with happiness when he sees me. He stands instantly, unfolding his tall body from behind the table, and pulls out the chair next to him, thanking the hostess as he waits for me to sit down.
“I’m glad you came, Ana,” he says softly. He looks good in candlelight, his eyes softer than usual, the red in his beard glinting. “I was almost worried you might not.”
“What were you going to do if I didn’t?” I tease him lightly. “We live together.”
“I would have waited for a while to see if you’d come.” Liam lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “And then I would have gone from there, I suppose, if you hadn’t.”
The words sound casual, but from the way his gaze catches mine and holds it, I know it’s not. If I hadn’t come, it would have meant something about us, about him and me. It would have been saying that I wasn’t ready to move forward, not ready to put my trust in him, and I didn’t want him the way he wants me.
But I do, and I think that I am. Iwantto be ready, to trust him. This is the first step in that direction.
“There are things I don’t know about you, Ana, that I want to,” Liam says, and my stomach knots at the thought of what those things might be. But then he slips the wine list out of the menu, and I feel myself relax.
“Like, what kind of wine do you prefer?” He scans the list. “Red or white?”
“Red,” I tell him confidently. “Although it was mostly cheap blends back in my Julliard days.”
“Well, there’ll be none of that here, for sure.” Liam crooks a smile at me. “Only the best for you.”
The server appears, and he orders a bottle of wine, some pinot noir that I don’t recognize. “It’s a good one,” Liam tells me confidently, and I smile at him.
“I trust you,” I say teasingly, and both of us go very still as the words hang in the air between us for a moment, as if I were talking about something other than wine.
“I took the luxury of ordering an appetizer for us to come after the wine,” Liam says. “A few things, since I wasn’t sure what you’d like best. But order anything you like for dinner, Ana. Whatever you want, you should have.”
The server returns with the wine, uncorking it and handing the cork to Liam as she pours a bit into each glass, handing them to us. Liam breathes it in, swirling it in the glass before tasting it. I try to follow his lead, although it doesn’t mean much to me—as far as I can tell, wine is wine.
“Perfect,” Liam tells her, and she adds to our glasses, leaving the bottle.
“I know not everything is right between us at the moment,” Liam says when the server is gone. “I know we have things to work through, things to decide. But I wanted to have a normal night with you, Ana, a real date. I wanted to show you what life would be like when it’s just the two of us, when there’s no one else we’re thinking of or beholden to, when it’s just you and me, and the life I want for us to have together.”
“I appreciate that.” I take a sip of the wine, my eyes fluttering briefly closed at the taste of it. Itisincredible, one of the best wines I’ve ever tasted, including the French wine I had in Paris. “But we can’t ignore all of it, Liam. Even if it’s just us, even if there’s no one else, it’s never going to be easy. It’s not all going to be fancy nights out and hours of us pleasuring each other.”
“Why not?” Liam grins at me, and for a moment, it looks almost boyish, despite the beard. “I can think of nothing I want more than to spend hours pleasuring you, Ana.”
