I COULDN’T HAVE DEVIATED FURTHER from my original plan if I had tried.
The goal was to break her and make her hate me. When I was done with her, she wasn’t supposed to want to be anywhere near me. I wanted her to run from me with fear and terror, but since that night in her bed, the drastic and effortless shift has only further progressed. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I told her to pack a bag last week to spend one night with me, and we’re going on day ten of her being at my house.
And it’s not because she’s decided to shack up with me and never leave again like a stage-five-clinger. Posie has attempted to go back to her apartment every single night, but I’m the one stopping her from doing so. I don’t want her to leave, and the chaotic thoughts that come with that are confusing as hell.
What I felt for her when I was younger is reemerging from the depths where I buried it, and it’s starting to overshadow the anger and blame I’d placed on her for so long. The things I’d planned on doing to her have become distant thoughts, and every morning I wake up next to her, it feels less and less like I’m being disloyal to my mother’s memory.
And that’s what I’ve been struggling with when I’ve been alone during this past week. Can letting go of it all be this easy? And more importantly, should it be this easy?
The conflict happening in my head dissipates during the small moments. Like when she gets cold at night and moves closer to me, or when she smiles softly at me when I enter the room. My concerns are completely silenced when I see her with Paxton. Since she started spending the night, I’ve seen a change in him. His eyes, while still glassy, are clearer than they’ve been in years and he’s spending less time holed up in his room. He smiled this week. It was quick, and if you blinked, you may have missed it, but it was there.
It’s these small moments that keep me from succumbing back into the dark angry mist.
Standing in front of my big bedroom window, I’m completely lost in these thoughts again while I fix my sterling silver cuff links, but the second her reflection appears in the glass, they go quiet.
“Okay, so hair and makeup have never been where I shine, but I did the best I could.” She’s been stressed all day about going to Mr. Holloway’s fundraiser tonight, and it’s clear in her tone she’s still not at ease about the whole thing. “Also, are you aware there’s basically no back on this dress? One wrong move and the future president might see my ass crack.”
Posie nervously rambles as she flounces around my room, collecting various things to put in her small clutch. Stumbling over the open box of leather heels I’d purchased for her, she bends at the waist and swipes them up.
“I don’t know why I’m asking you this. That’s probably exactly why you picked it out in the first place.” In the glass reflection, she bounces on one foot while she shoves the four-inch-tall stiletto on the other one.
“It was definitely a strong deciding factor.”
Turning from the window, I finally take her all in. The black silk gown has a slit reaching all the way up to the top of her thigh, and the spaghetti straps that crisscross over her exposed back are basically thick pieces of dental floss. Her hair, which she wears loose and straight, falls over her shoulders. The end pieces that have been lightened are a nice contrast to the dark dress. Her light brown eyes are surrounded by smoky eyeshadow and her full lips have been painted in a shade that reminds me of red wine.
“And it appears I decided correctly.” Maybe I chose too well. With the way she looks, I already know I’m going to be knocking teeth out tonight. They already stare at her when she’s not dressed to the nines, and now I’ve basically wrapped her in a pretty package to be served to them.
Her eyes rake over me, and I don’t miss the heated glint that flashes in them. “I’m never going to see you in an actual tux, am I?” Walking closer, she trails her fingers over the collar of my black dress shirt. The top buttons are undone because I flat-out refuse to a wear fucking bow tie. “You always have to go against the grain. I guess I should just be glad you’re not wearing those boots of yours.”
The best they’re going to get from me is a black sport coat and matching slacks. My dress shoes that have the same red bottoms as Posie’s heels are almost pushing my generosity. “It’s bad enough I’ve become a frequent flyer at these kinds of fucking events. I just barely tolerate being there, and I’m not about to let myself look like a penguin or a server while I grit my teeth through endless small talk.”
It’s not that I don’t understand the importance of my presence at things like this. In one night, I’ll be able to grease the elbows of many of the people who’ll ensure my contracts in the capital. While I do that, I just might get lucky and collect a few debts and secrets for my own growing business.
Without having to ask for help, she takes the cuff link that is still in my grasp and deftly pins my sleeve for me. “I can say with almost one-hundred-percent certainty that no one will ever mistake you for waitstaff. You don’t exactly give off ‘how can I serve you’ vibes.”
Hand dipping between the high seam of her dress, my fingertips trail toward the inside of her exposed thigh. “I’m pretty sure I radiated those vibes last night when I had my face buried in your pussy.” My eyes snap to hers when I feel her bare flesh. “No panties?”
The tops of her cheekbones flush. “In this dress? Not a chance. Silk doesn’t exactly hide panty lines.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re completely naked under there? No bra or underwear?” I’m this close to saying “fuck it” and telling her we’re staying home when she smiles wickedly and pats my chest with false sympathy.
“Bet you’re regretting your outfit selection now.” Turning, she snags her clutch from my unmade bed and heads for the door. Looking at me over her shoulder, she quirks an arched brow. “Come on. We don’t want to be late, now do we?”
