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Scanning the crowd, I eventually found Star hovering beside the table we’d been allotted, her gaze on her phone.
Heading over to her after I sank back the wine and left the glass on a server's tray, I slid an arm around her waist.
Beneath the silk, there was boning that was hell-sent to fuck with my head and my dick as it supported her tits while letting her natural curves shine through.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” I crooned.
“Twice. You can tell me a third time if you want though. I won’t complain.”
While I chuckled, I pressed a kiss to her temple. “You picked this dress to drive me insane, didn’t you?”
“I do most things with the aim of driving you insane, Conor. You need to accept this if we’re going to continue our relationship to its natural end.”
“What’s the natural end?”
“When we’re worm food.”
“That’s my kind of marriage,” I said approvingly.
“You can take the Catholic out of the boy but not the boy out of the Catholic.”
“That makes no grammatical sense.”
“I’m still right.”
I groused, “Actually, it has nothing to do with Catholicism. I just feel like arguing with you until I die. I’m weird like that.”
“Apparently.” She peeked at me over her shoulder. “At least someone appreciates this travesty of a dress.”
“Travesty?” I clutched at my heart. “Harsh, Star. Harsh. I’m taking it that Savannah picked it?”
She harrumphed. That was answer enough.
The halter neck exposed the length of her spine, and above her ass, there was a big bow that my hands longed to pull apart. Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
I knew nothing about fashion design, but I had eyes and the cut of the silk made it so that it sat flush to her curves. It swooped around her feet, revealing shining silver peep toes. I shouldn’t find it endearing that her toenails were bare but I did.
Savannah could drag her into the dress, but never could Star be dragged to the salon though.
It was a travesty, however, that I couldn’t fuck her in it, but there were worse travesties in need of handling on our agenda.
“All set?” I asked her when her attention shifted to her phone.
She hummed. "Kat was just telling me that Shay is a great babysitter."
"So long as she's focused on his pretty face and not the thirty-strong security team the kids have on them..."
"Oh, she's completely unaware of the guards," she assured me. “Grail is waiting in the wings. She told me that he’s arrived but I haven’t seen him yet.” She leaned into me, her spine touching my chest, giving me her weight in more ways than one. Star didn’t lean on anyone. Just me. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, Conor?”
“I think we can officially say that no geriatric is safe around you,” I said lightly, “but yes.”
“I didn’t kill Dagda,” she mumbled, and was that…? Yes, it was. A soft blush danced on the arcs of her cheeks. “And the majority of the old people in Manhattan are safe.”
“For the moment,” I teased, brushing another kiss to her temple.
“It always stuns me that you can joke about this stuff.”
“Prefer me to cry?”
