“I cannot wear this dress.”
“Of course you can!” Wynter grins into the mirror behind me. Her red, satin dress is form-fitting and her tiny baby bump is on display. There are rumors about her pregnancy, a bunch of photos in baggy clothes in the tabloids, but tonight is confirmation of it.
The entire Saint James family, myself included, are going to a charity ball tonight. It has something to do with a partnership the youth center Emerson runs with her father is starting with a local women’s shelter. I don’t really know the details because it was only announced to me two hours ago when six dresses, all more expensive than the last appeared in the bedroom along with a hair and makeup artist. I couldn’t have dreamed of this kind of treatment a month ago, and now here I am being pampered with some of the richest women in the country. Oh how the tables have turned.
“Wynter, this dress costs more than my college tuition for the year.”
“So?” She shrugs.
“So, I can’t wear it!” I say incredulously.
She sighs and steps toward me, her eyes brushing down the skintight satin black dress she insisted I wear. As a rule, I don’t wear skintight clothing. The night I met Storm was only because my sister insisted on it, but that was the first time in years. The benefit of the dress being so tight is I’m not worried my boob is going to fall out despite the thick strap over my left shoulder. “Emerson struggled to begin with as well,” she tells me. “And I get it, I really do. But Storm has never acted like this about a woman before. When he called me this morning and asked me to get you dresses, he explicitly told me to spare no expense, because he wanted to spoil you, because he doesn’t think you’ve been spoiled enough in your life, and he doesn’t know how to show affection in a way that doesn’t include spending money on you. So I get it, but if you don’t wear one of these dresses, he’s going to take it personally, because he wants to do nice things for you.”
I look into the mirror again and take myself in. I look like a completely different person. Everything about me, right down to the shape of my face has changed. It’s not that I’ve necessarily lost weight, but it seems like eating quality food for three square meals a day is changing my body shape for the better. My hair is healthier from the expensive products Storm insists I use, and my skin has a glow to it where it’s always been dull. And I guess there’s one other change. I’m happy. Overwhelmed more often than not, but always happy.
“It will mean that much to him?” I ask, running my hands down the soft material. The dress is fucking beautiful, even if it cost an arm and a leg. The high slit in the leg and the single shoulder strap makes me look elegant but sexy, and the way my hair is curled into a low messy bun and makeup is subtle but effective.
Wynter gives me a warm smile and I can’t help but feel comforted by it. “It will.”
“And then he’ll tear it off you later.” Emerson giggles as she strolls into the room in her own gown. The sapphire blue makes her look regal as she crosses the room to where we’re standing. “You look incredible, Ayvah.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. I’ve never considered myself a beautiful woman before. Cute maybe, but not beautiful. And yet this dress makes me feel like I could conquer the world, and maybe tonight’s the night I conquer Storm Saint James. Or perhaps it’s more likely he will conquer me.
Ifiddle with my hands nervously in the back of the limousine. Wynter sits on one side of me, while Emerson is on the other. We’re meeting everyone else at the event, something about security risk in traveling together. I’m not sure, but when I asked they all looked at me like they wanted to tell me something and then decided against it.
It makes me nervous being out of the house without Storm though. Which seems ridiculous seeing as I was desperately trying to escape just two weeks ago, but now I don’t want to leave. That’s something I’m only just allowing myself to admit, but it’s true. I like it there, and not just because the bed is comfortable and the house is always a nice temperature as opposed to being cool and damp all year round like the apartment I grew up in. No, I like it because the people are nice to me, and dare I say, I imagine this is what it’s like to have a normal family.
“You’re going to be fine, Ayvah.” Wynter takes one of my hands in hers and gives it a quick squeeze.
“What if I embarrass you all?”
Her head drops back as she lets out a giggle. “I’m sure you’ve seen us embarrassing ourselves over the years. We never do it when no one’s around.”
“But I’m not family,” I murmur softly. The words slip out without permission and I don’t really mean to say them at all, but I hope she didn’t hear them.
Emerson scoffs from my other side. “You’re just as much family as I am. There’s no way Storm is ever going to let you go now. I should know.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Saint James men fall, and they fall fast and hard, and once that happens, they’re done. There’s no other women, there’s no negotiating. It’s just how it is.” Wynter lets out a laugh, but doubt swirls around in my belly. How can she possibly know that’s how Storm feels about me?
“We’re going in the back entrance. Storm didn’t want you going through the paparazzi without him.” Emerson rolls her eyes, but there’s a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
I’m about to say something I may regret when the car comes to a stop in a dark alleyway. Maybe I would prefer the paparazzi?
The back door opens and Wynter slips out elegantly, holding her hand out to help me. It probably has something to do with how long it took to get me in the car because I was scared the dress was going to rip.
I take her outstretched hand and manage to slip from the limo without too much trouble. We’re quickly ushered through a door and into a dark hallway. “Are we sure we’re in the right place?” I whisper, just in case we’re not and someone hears us. The hallway may be dark, but it’s also kind of gross. The paint is chipping, the linoleum floors are lifting, and there’s a sticky film on the ground that makes every step harder than it should be.
“Positive,” Emerson chimes. “I was here earlier to get things set up.”
I let out a breath when music in the distance captures my attention. Okay, maybe we are in the right place after all.
It’s not until we reach the end of the hallway and step into a huge ballroom that I finally relax. I can’t help but be a little skittish considering all I’ve been through recently.
“The guys are over there.” Wynter points and when I lock eyes with Storm’s gray ones, all fierce and possessive as they peruse my body, I can’t help but smile. The way he looks at me heats my skin to an impossible temperature, and I know when he touches me it will set a fire of need in my core.
“Baby girl,” Storm rumbles, opening his arms until I step into them. They wrap around me and I can finally breathe. As stupid and naive as it may sound, over the last few weeks Storm has become my source of comfort. When he’s near, I don’t look over my shoulder or jump at loud noises. I don’t worry about what may happen when he loses interest in me, because he consumes my every thought. “You look beautiful,” he whispers against the shell of my ear and sends a shiver through my body.
“Do you like the dress?” I ask as I look up at him.
“I’ll like it a whole lot better when I tear it from your body later.” He presses a kiss to my lips but doesn’t linger. He wraps a possessive arm around my waist and tugs me into his side so there isn’t an inch of space between us. “I don’t like all these motherfuckers looking at what’s mine,” he grumbles.
Everett chuckles, his arm wrapped around Wynter and hand splayed across her swollen belly. “I knew I was going to love when you joined the club, bro, but this is better than I ever could have hoped for.”
“Be nice.” Wynter slaps his chest with the back of her hand, but the smile on her face tells me she finds the situation just as amusing as her fiancé does.
“No way! After dealing with his bullshit for all this time, he deserves every little bit of ribbing I give him.”
She rolls her eyes but a smile remains spread across her lips.
Storm growls, taking me aback. Is he mad about Everett?
I look up at him to see him staring at four men walking toward us. You know those guys that you know are bad news? The ones you cross the street to avoid and suspect would murder you where you stand purely because their eyes are so cold? That’s the only way I can describe the devastatingly handsome but equally terrifying men walking toward us.
Storm looks down at me, his face paled slightly as fear edges into the gray.
I drag my eyes away from him to find Wynter and Everett standing straight, his arm tightened around her, and Rayne has pushed Emerson behind him slightly.
I don’t know who these guys are, but something tells me they aren’t friends of the Saint James family.
