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“Not that I’ve ever met Cade, but Declan pointed him out when the news happened to show a clip of one of his matches. Of course, Declan has more time to spend with his friends than he has for me nowadays.” She huffs.
“Everything okay between the two of you?” I ask cautiously.
“Yes. no. I don’t know is the right answer.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, we were talking about you and Cade.”
“Were we?” I try to act innocent, then fail when she narrows her gaze on me. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing. I mean I barely know the guy. We, uh, lost touch, and then I ran into him.”In a manner of speaking.
“O-k-a-y,” She lowers her chin to her chest. “So, when are you meeting him?”
“This evening, actually.” I place my phone on my dressing table, then step back so she can see my full figure.
“Whoa, babe, you look hot.” She looks me up and down. “Is that a new dress?”
“It is. In fact, he sent it over for me to wear.”
I slide my palms down the simple sheath dress, then glance at my reflection in the mirror. The pale green of the fabric picks out the color of my eyes and makes them seem more luminous than usual. It leaves my arms bare, frames my décolletage in a way that makes the valley between my breasts seem deeper than usual, then nips in at the waist before ending mid-thigh. It reveals more skin than I’d normally show but, I have to admit, it shows off the shape of my legs, the curve of my ass, and the turn of my shoulders. Still, it's shorter than anything I've worn before. When the package arrived early this morning, it took me by surprise. I opened it to find a note that simply said:
wear this
It wasn’t signed. I suppose, it didn’t need to be signed. Right away, I knew it was from him. And when I saw the dress, I knew I had to wear it. Now, I tug on the hem and try to pull it down, to no avail. I’ve put my hair up, so it shows off the column of my neck. The creamy expanse of the skin of my chest feels almost obscene. I wish I had a chain to tie around my neck, but I left home with none of my jewelry—not even the pieces my grandmother gave me.
I wanted to be independent, not beholden to my parents for anything. It was tough to strike out on my own, but I succeeded. So what, if I live in an apartment roughly the size of my entire room at my parent’s palatial Kensington home? This place is all mine. I found it and paid for it, and I don’t owe anyone an answer for what I'm doing with my life.
So why am I dressed to go to an event with a man I barely know?I knew Cade as a teenager, a hot-headed boy with the promise of devastating good looks. The man he became is a cold-hearted, mean stranger. One I don’t know at all, no matter that I find him so appealing. Even his voice changed to that deep, sexy baritone that can reduce me to a puddle at his feet. He sounds just like the boy I used to know, but different. Better.
“You look amazing, Abby.” Solene’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
Someone calls her from off screen. She glances up, then nods at whoever is speaking. “I’ll be right there,” she calls out
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you for so long.”
“Oh, please, don’t apologize.” She rolls her eyes. “Besides, they need me and the crowds I’m attracting to my shows. They’ll wait.”
"So, the tour’s going well, huh?”
“Better than I expected. Sometimes, I can’t believe this is happening.” She shakes her head, and her features taking on a bemused look.
“You deserve it, babe. You’re so talented.”
“Still, when your very first single takes off, it’s a little disconcerting, you know? I keep waiting for the bubble to burst and—”
“They’re ready for you, Solene,” a man’s voice interrupts us.
She blows out a breath and scowls at him. “Fine, fine.” She turns to me. “Sorry, babe. Gotta go, but I expect you to tell me all about your evening. In detail.” She blows me a kiss, then the screen goes blank.
I drop into the stool in front of my dressing table, then add a final coat of mascara to my eyelashes before surveying the results.
My cheeks are flushed, my eyes shining. I look more alive than I have ever before in my life. I step into my six-inch high heels—another gift that arrived with the dress. Somehow, I’m not surprised he knows my size. Arrogant asshole that he is, he either guessed my size, or more likely, he described me to his personal shopper who picked out these clothes and accessories.
I hook the small bag with my lipstick, phone, and credit card about my wrist. The doorbell rings, I draw in a deep breath, then turn and walk to my apartment door. I fling it open, see the man standing there, and it feels like I’ve been punched in the chest.Oh, my god.To say he looks devastating is putting it mildly. Cade Kingston is dressed in a tux that clings to the breadth of his shoulders and stretches across his wide chest, only to be buttoned at his narrow waist. His powerful thighs are clad in pants, which hug every inch of those muscles, and he’s wearing beautiful leather shoes that seem so big. Surely, they’re twice the size of mine. Which would mean that—
I raise my gaze to his crotch and make out the outline of the column in his pants.Oh, my god. Why have I never noticed that he's unusually large in that particular department? I don’t remember him carrying an Eiffel Tower between his legs, if you know what I mean. Or maybe, I should call it Big Ben, considering we're in London. Geez, did I think that? I did. Clearly, I need therapy—or a boyfriend—if my eyes go straight to the one part of him I should avoid looking at, at all costs.
"Like what you see?" his mocking voice cuts through my thoughts.
