The first week of my final year at Etonsons was surreal. It felt like I was back in my old life. I sat in the lecture hall, disappearing amongst all the other faceless students . . . until I noticed the magazine the girl in the row in front of me was reading before class began.
Our engagement pictures had been released to the media last week. Alice had selected two. One where I was sitting on Royce’s lap beneath the fountain, and a closeup where he was kissing my hand, showing off the stunning engagement ring. The first time I’d seen the photos, they’d taken my breath away.
Sophia Alby had said Royce and I were a fairytale, one that everyone wanted to be a part of. But I was convinced no one truly wanted that fairytale story more than I did. The camera made a very convincing liar out of me. It all looked so real.
On a Friday, I met Alice in the lobby of the dress store. Donna Willow, the designer who’d dressed us both for Royce’s promotion party, had flown in exclusively to show us her designs for the anniversary gala. It was quite the contrast from the shopping experience last month with my mother who, as I’d feared, had tried to exceed her budget and asked for my help convincing the financial manager to give her more money.
She had caviar tastes and would never get used to having to live on a tuna fish budget.
The designer, wearing all black, stood next to a rack of her dresses and supervised her assistant as the girl steamed wrinkles out of the garments. When she saw us, Donna smiled and gestured for the assistant to stop.
“Alice,” Donna said, “I swear you look younger every time I see you. How are you?”
I stood awkwardly by my future step-mother-in-law’s side while she chatted with her friend. It was only the first week of classes, and I already had a ton of work to do, so I was hoping this appointment would go quickly.
Donna pulled a peacock blue dress down off the rack, handed it to Alice, and sent her off toward the dressing room. There was no discussion between the women. No comments about color or any other options presented.
“Now,” she set her sights on me, “do you trust me?”
Of all the people I’d gotten to know over the last few months, ironically, Donna Willow was the person I trusted most. “I do.”
“Good. Don’t let Alice tell you it’s too costume-y.” She dug through the rack and had to use both of her matchstick thin arms to support the full dress as she pulled it out for me to see.
“It gorgeous,” I breathed. And it was beyond perfect.
She beamed at me. “It’s also quite heavy, so if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.” I eagerly took the hanger from her, scooped up the bottom half of the garment in an arm so it wouldn’t drag on the floor, and hurried to change into it.
It was strapless like the red dress, but not a corset. The fit and flare style dress hugged my figure all the way to my knees before bursting out into a skirt full of volume and layers. The silhouette was flattering, but that wasn’t what made me fall in love. It was the rich green fabric with slightly different tones that gave it a texture quality. Clear beading was carefully placed, flashing a hint of sparkle when I moved, like a scale catching the light. It gave a subtle nod to the interpretation of a snake, including the train trailing behind me like a tail.
I was the modern Medusa, a serpent ready for a black-tie event.
Alice was already on the pedestal out front, scrutinizing herself in the mirrors. The off the shoulder blue dress fit her like a second skin, flaunting her statuesque form. The outer layer of the skirt was tulle and see-through, and it trumpeted outward while the underskirt stayed straight. Like a peacock’s fan of feathers against its svelte body.
I was Medusa, but she was the perfect vision of Hera, queen of the gods.
“You look amazing,” I said.
“Oh.” Alice pressed her fingers to the hollow of her neck as a shy smile teased her lips. “Thank you.”
Her gaze met mine through the mirror, and she took in the green dress I wore, and for a moment she looked . . . displeased. But the emotion retreated. She flashed a vacant smile, stepped off the pedestal, and gestured for me to take her place.
I fell even more in love with the green dress when I could see it from all the angles, but Alice gave me a hard look in the mirror. “I’m not sure about this one.”
“I am,” a male voice said.
I didn’t have to see him to know who it was, but my heart fluttered as I turned and gazed at Royce over my shoulder. I’d been so busy with school I’d barely seen him all week, and . . . was it possible he’d gotten hotter? There was a brightness in his eyes that made my knees go soft.
“What are you doing here?” I asked lightly. Could he hear I was happy to see him?
He shrugged. “I had time.” His gaze left mine and swept slowly down the lines of the dress. “Green is my favorite color.”
A nervous laugh bubbled from me because he’d said it so seriously, and the way he looked at me made my fluttering heart worse. “You only like it because it’s the color of money.”
“Well, all of my favorite things are green.” His expression was cryptic. Unreadable. “Or they were, at some point.”
I flashed back to our first night together more than a year ago when he’d cornered me in the library. I’d had green hair and red lips, and he’d told me I was beautiful.
God, if he kept this up, I was going to need to sit down.
“Do you like it?” he asked me.
I nodded, hoping it could shake loose the fog he created in my mind. “It’s perfect.”
His lips lifted into an effortless smile, and my insides went boneless. Had something good happened? It was like a switch had been flipped in him, and the man he’d been with me before had returned.
Royce’s focus shifted to Alice, but he nodded back toward me. “Mind if I steal her for a moment?”
She waved a hand, dismissing us, and went back to admiring herself in the mirror, pulling at the waist of the dress where she wanted a tighter fit.
His hand was warm as he grabbed mine and led me back to my dressing room.
“It’s been weird not having you at the office,” he said.
“Missing me?” I teased.
His intense eyes drilled into me as he pushed the door closed. “Yes.
And then he launched himself at me like he couldn’t hold himself back another second. I was jerked into his kiss, our mouths smashing together and cutting off my sound of surprise.
The way his mouth dominated mine ripped me open and poured fire inside. The desire for him flared white-hot, a fuse being lit on a stick of dynamite, ready to explode. He wasn’t soft or gentle. He was firm and rough as he claimed me, like I was his and could never, ever belong to anyone else.
A tremble started in my knees and graduated to my center when his demanding tongue pushed inside my mouth. He didn’t ask for permission or give me a chance to stop him. Royce overtook me. His hands slid up my front, and he cupped my breasts, crushing and massaging me through the dress.
He squeezed a throaty moan from me, and the satisfied sound clung in the air of the dressing room.
Where have you been? I wanted to ask but didn’t. I should just be happy he was back and that I hadn’t lost him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sandwiched between two mind-numbing kisses.