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“What?” she snips, her eyes never looking up from the screen. Trying to be subtle, her hand still finds her robe and lays it across her left thigh as if trying to cover the small row of scars that I’ve noticed before but never pointed out.
“Did you lather yourself in a vat of glitter or something, you’re fucking blinding the entire neighbourhood.”
“Wow,” she drawls, still not looking up. “Who’s dramatic now? It’s just some shimmering tanning oil. Look away if you’re so bothered.”
I stand up. The need to lounge near the pool is suddenly trumped by the need to get as far away as possible from Lenix.
Great, this is already boding well.
I look down at her from my height, and she finally, oh so slowly, matches my gaze.
“I need you ready by eight tonight,” I tell her.
“Ready?”
I smirk. “Time to play,wife.”
Although her sunglasses hide most of her face, I still notice her pursed lips. Pleased, I turn away, quickly leaving before she can come up with an excuse.
Chapter 18
Knowingthatourlittleagreement came with mandatorypretendwife duties, like rubbing elbows with the elite of Noxport, I’d come prepared. Standing in front of the closet in the bedroom that will now be mine for the foreseeable future, I peruse the dresses I brought with me. I’m trying to figure out which one would be appropriate for tonight’s event but given Connor gave me absolutely zero detail, I’m having a hard time choosing.
Grabbing my phone to ask him, I send out a quick text. I regret my decision as soon as I hear footfalls on the hardwood floor heading towards my room and then a quick knock on the closed door. Hurriedly looking down to make sure I’m decent, I tighten my short silk robe around my waist, and march over. Opening the door just a creak, I poke my head out.
“I didn’t ask you to come all the way over here.”
He grins and places his wide palm on the door, pushing it open. “I was in the neighborhood.”
I relent with a sigh, letting him in and step back, my feet sinking into the plush cream carpet. He strolls in, looking unnervingly dashing with his black hair slicked back, and dressed in a perfectly pressed dark gray pinstripe suit. His navy blue collar is still unbuttoned, allowing his tattoos to peek through. He tugs on his sleeve as if fixing them, the gold watch on his left wrist glinting against the light. After an unnecessary examination of the room, acting as if this isn’t his own house, his black eyes finally land on mine.
“Show me.”
I vaguely point to the closet, curious to see what he would pick out himself.
Traipsing over, he takes a look. Reaching out, his fingers softly graze the different fabrics and a shiver inexplicably travels down my body at the sight. I shift on my feet trying to shake the feeling, the silence between us widening while I wait for him to say something.
“This one,” he finally says, glancing over. My words get stuck in my throat when I notice the softness in his gaze. As if noticing my reaction, Connor blinks and the hardness usually outlining his eyes slides back in place. He quirks his typical arrogant smile and heads for the door. “Be ready in an hour, darling.”
“Quit giving me orders like I’m one of your lackeys,” I mutter before he disappears into the hallway. But my retort falls flat when he doesn’t answer and leaves me standing there, in a room in his own house, about to put on a dress that he picked out for me.
Connor waits by the front door, head down, distracted by his phone. The sound of my heels on the marble floor alerts him of my presence, and he slowly raises his gaze. There's a flash of surprise, eyebrows slightly raised but it disappears quickly. I’m no dummy, I know I look hot.
The vintage floor-length silk dress he picked out for me is perfectly tailored, hugging my curves, the thin straps showing off my shoulders. It’s mostly backless with the soft red fabric dipping low down my lower back, a long slit traveling up my left leg, ending a few inches above my knee. That, paired with drop pearl earrings and black stilettos—I’m dressed to kill.
“What?” I ask innocently, sliding my phone into my black clutch.
“Have I ever seen you in this dress before?” he says, his eyes looking slightly unfocused as if trying to recall something.
“No—why?”
“No reason.” He gives his head a small shake and smiles, bright and wide, the spark in his eyes igniting while he gives me another one of his slow once-overs. It’s then I realize the color of his pocket square.
Red. Just like my dress.
My heart squeezes and it’s my turn to be taken aback. Thankfully, by that time he’s looking away, opening the front door. I school my features before he glances back and offers his hand. “Let’s go, darling.”
I place my hand in his, which immediately feels way too weird and quickly take it back. His eyes travel to me and then away. Did he just look disappointed? I say nothing while he leads us to the car parked right in front of the door. It’s not his regular SUV however, it’s a vintage Aston Martin. I raise an eyebrow when he looks back at me, having opened my car door which is surprising in itself.
