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“Is that so?” She takes the few steps necessary from the window to the bed, plopping down beside me. “I guess you left your manners in the South, because Southern etiquette says the lady always goes first and that includes choosing her mattress real estate.”
“Aha. Well, it’s also proper etiquette, Southern or not, that the man sleeps closest to the door to fend off any unwanted company.” At that, Ariana nods. “What? No rebuttal? No feminist commentary?”
Ariana shakes her head. “No. If you want to take a bullet for me, go ahead. But considering the blockade of Louis Vuitton between us and the door, I think we’ll be okay.”
“Right, well, one can never be too careful.” At my words, Ariana looks from me to the bedspread, her smile fading, as well as the light in her eyes I’ve grown so used to. Oh no. I’ve got to do better at keeping things platonic between us. I don’t want to toy with her feelings nor my own. And yet, perhaps her sudden change in mood has nothing to do with the things left unspoken between us and everything to do with the bed upon which we sit. I realize this arrangement isn’t ideal for either of us.
“Hey, um, I’d offer to take the sofa, but there isn’t one. And I triple-checked—there are no other rooms available to—”
“No, it’s fine,” she interjects, waving me off. “I mean, it’s…it’s not that I’m concerned about sharing a bed with you. I mean, I am, just not for reasons you’re probably thinking.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, moving to sit up straight as Ariana picks at the frayed fabric of her jeans for a moment, as if considering how she will answer my question. Though, I’m sure I already know. She’s afraid of what she may do or say in her sleep. The night she stayed with me, I pretended to be asleep as the nightmares consumed and awoke her. But I heard everything. Which means I know her nightmares are about more than just her mom.
Finally, Ariana lifts her eyes to mine and says, “I’m a restless sleeper. I sometimes have night terrors. It’s not something I can control.” She bites her lip, as if there is more she’d like to say but doesn’t.
I want to know what she dreams about. I want to know what happened to her and who hurt her. And I want to make them pay for ever daring to lay a finger on her. I imagine what she must’ve gone through, and my fingers ache and my shoulders tense, as if readying to throw a punch. No matter how badly I try to keep my emotions in check, I can’t ignore the way my body reacts when I think of her in pain. I can’t ignore the desire in me to protect her as if she is my own blood, as if she is mine.
“Alister?” she asks, drawing me back to the present.
“Sorry, um, don’t worry about it, okay? When I sleep, I’m out like a log.” At my quip, she smiles, her cheeks set aglow. She’s so beautiful. And though I know her eyes have seen the worst of humanity, there’s still a softness, an innocence to her that I admire. It’s why I respect her, why I constantly want to be in her orbit.
“Well, there goes my bullet-proof vest,” she says. As her sarcasm returns to her, she slings her legs over the side of the bed, stands, and makes her way to the leather Louis Vuitton trunk that’s taller than she is. “I must admit, I was a little distracted while Sophia was packing. I caught a glimpse of the dress, but…” Ariana opens the person-sized trunk, and a bushel of pale gray tulle pours out, leaving her speechless.
“What is it? Did it get wrinkled?”
“Nope, but I wish it did.” My brows crinkle. “Maybe then I could convince you to buy me something new with an actual bodice.” Ariana pulls the mannequin from the trunk, revealing a dress I can’t even remember Sophia wearing. Sure enough it has a deep-V neckline along with similar V-shaped openings beneath the arms. “The back is not much better,” Ariana says, glancing at the back of the dress and then returning her frustrated gaze to me. Yeah, my dad probably vetoed this one. I mean, it’s beautiful, it’s just…
“To be fair, it offers more coverage than the dress you were wearing the night we met.”
“That was Halloween, and I was on a mission to seduce you. I don’t normally dress like—” Ariana waves in annoyance at the dress. “I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe this.” At that, I laugh. “It’s not funny.” Ariana puts her hand on her hip.
“It’s kind of funny,” I admit. “Besides, you need something a littleextragiven tonight’s mission. It’s not that I doubt your seduction skills, it’s just, I need you to be undeniable tonight if we’re going to get Gallagher alone.” As the words cross my lips, I instantly regret them. Gio and I should’ve come up with a better plan, one that doesn’t force the girl I like into the arms of my enemy.
“Wait,” Ariana stops me. “Rewind. Your plan is to have me seduce Avery Gallagher?”
“It’s a classic ploy, one you have experience with.”
“Yeah, a botched experience and unoriginal is more like it.”
“Who said it was botched?” Did I just say that out loud?
“Don’t try to make me feel better.” Ariana ignores my comment—thank God—in favor of shoving the mannequin back into its hiding place. “It’s like Tinker Bell gone rogue.”
“If Tinker Bell wore diamond-encrusted Vera Wang.”
“Wait, those are real diamonds? That dress is by Vera Wang?”
“Let it sink in while you get ready. We leave in an hour.”
As I watch Ariana move around the room in a fit, shuffling through shoes, jewels, makeup, and hair pins, I can’t help but smile as my chest fills with warmth. However, as thoughts of what is to come burst through the towering walls I’ve built to house my feelings for her, the warmth is quickly chased away by an eerie chill. I hate that I care for her, because I know my feelings for her put her at risk. Hell, her being here with me now puts her at risk, but I couldn’t stop myself from allowing her to come. I wanted this night with her, both because of my plan to confront Avery Gallagher and in spite of it. I want this time with her because she makes me feel normal. She allows me to pretend I could belong in her world rather than mine. And yet, it’s because of my world and the fact that she knows darkness too that I know she’s the one I need tonight, not Gio, not even Sophia. She’s the one I need to talk me off the ledge, to keep me from starting a war with the Irish mob that may be the death of us all, but now that she’s here, I worry I’ve made a mistake. I used to think Sophia was all I had to lose. I have never been more wrong.
* * *
When Ariana steppedout into the hallway of our hotel, I was speechless. Turns out Sophia knew what she was doing. She sent Ariana with all the tools and products to do her hair and makeup and tons of jewelry options to match the dress. The dress, albeit a bit revealing in the cleavage and side-boob area, is stunning on her. Diamonds cover her chest and stomach and drip down haphazardly through the pale gray pleated tulle like tears. Let it be a warning to any man who dares to touch her as they too will be left in tears.
As we move up the velvet-lined staircase of the Boston Opera House to our balcony seats, I wrap my arm around Ariana’s waist and pull her tight to my side. She turns to me, surprised by the sudden move. But as the wandering eyes of the men around us return to their partners, I take it my point has been received. She’s mine. And yet, she isn’t. The whole point of her being here, of her wearing that completely captivating dress, is to draw the attention of Avery Gallagher, to make him want to touch her, do things with her, not me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, releasing my hold as I’m reminded why we’re here. And what a sour reminder it is.
