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There’s a pair of heels inside the smaller box, just as I thought there would be. They’re higher and more delicate than anything I’ve ever worn—I’m more than a little worried I might break an ankle. My usual wardrobe consists of hi-tops and Doc Martens. But they’re gorgeous—gold with fine straps and a thin heel—and I can imagine how I’d feel wearing them.
Impulsively, I reach for my phone and call Dante.
He answers on the first ring.So much for playing hard to get.If his eagerness to speak to me is some kind of game to make me soften to him, it’s working.
“I take it you got the packages I sent?” There’s a ripple of humor in his deep voice, and just hearing him on the other end makes my skin prickle with desire.
“I did. Dante, they’re too much. I can’t even imagine what all this cost—”
“You don’t need to.” There’s that smooth, arrogant assurance in his voice. “I promise you, it doesn’t matter. And no matter how much I spent, it will be worth it to see you wearing that dress.”
The thread of lust in the words makes my breath catch. “I didn’t say yes, Dante.”
“Then you don’t need to. You can just keep it all, if you want. They’re gifts, Emma. No strings attached.” He pauses. “But I’ve been imagining you in red silk since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
A dizzying wave of heat washes over me, and I sink onto the edge of the bed.This man is impossible.“I’m surprised you didn’t send lingerie with it.”
Dante chuckles. “Oh, little bird. A dress like that is best worn with nothing underneath it.”
My mouth goes dry. The way his voice darkens tells me exactly the kind of fantasies he’s having. “I can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that. Let alone worn a dress that expensive—and the shoes. Dante, I’m going to embarrass you.”
“You could never embarrass me.” He sounds so sure, as if the idea really is preposterous. He sounds so sure ofme.
I’d had my refusal all planned out. But with his voice in my ear, and the dress laid out next to me, I feel my resolve crumbling.
One night.I keep saying that, and one night keeps turning into more. But surely one night out with Dante, one night where I let him show me his world and pretend like I actually belong on his arm, won’t hurt. It’s not as if it’s going to change anything, one way or another.
“Alright.” I say it so softly that for a moment, I wonder if he heard me. “I’ll go.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day, little bird.” The sincerity in his voice makes my stomach twist. “I’ll see you Friday night, then.”
“See you then.”
I drop the phone in my lap, looking at the dress, shoes, and the glittering choker. One night of pretending won’t hurt.
After all, Dante knows that’s all it is, too.
Just pretend.
—
By the time I’m actually getting ready, my stomach is a mess of nerves, and I’m questioning all my decisions.
Rico was upset about my taking a Friday night away from the shop. Friday and Saturday nights are almost sacrosanct, nights when there needs to be anextremelygood reason for not coming in. I couldn’t tell him that Dante was taking me out on a date, so instead, I had to come up with a lie about not feeling well. I did my best to sell it, but I’ve rarely ever been sick in the four years I’ve been at the Night Orchid. I can’t help but think that he’s going to find it suspicious.
And it’ll be one more nail in my coffin, if he ever finds out. Just like the eight hundred dollars that I put towards my property taxes, after telling Rico that Dante had barely tipped me that first session.
I still don’t fully know if he believed that, either.
I shower and dry my hair, running curl cream through my waves and using the old diffuser that I have for my blow dryer to try and actually style it. I rarely do anything that isn’t throwing it up in a ponytail or a bun, and as I loop pieces around a set of curlers that I think were left here by my mother a couple of decades ago, I wonder once again what I’m thinking.
Everyone there is going to take one look at me and know I don’t belong. I don’t know how Dante is so certain that I won’t be an embarrassment.
The dress is another thing that gives me pause. It was hot to hear Dante describe over the phone how he imagined me wearing it with nothing underneath, but actuallydoingit makes me flush red before I’ve ever even undressed. I shavedeverythingin the shower, the first time I’ve done that in years, because I couldn’t imagine going commando unless I was bare as an egg. But now, I feel even more vulnerable.
I should call it off. Text him and say I’m sick.
The dress stares at me from the hanger, and I glare right back.
