He nods. “She can accompany us on the trip if it would make you feel more comfortable. It wouldn’t be unusual, at all, for a woman of your stature to bring along an assistant.”
Of my stature. That’s pretty damn funny.
“But there are pros and cons to bringing a companion.”
“Like?”
“The most obvious benefit is that it will be easier for you with an ally who is a font of knowledge. On the other hand, there would be some danger to her. It’s small. I don’t expect things to go bad, but if they do,” he sighs, “it will be the shitstorm of all shitstorms.”
Gray pauses for a few seconds before continuing. “And if you bring along someone to keep you company, the crown prince will be less motivated to introduce you to Saher. He’s going to want to have a little fun with me, and if you’re alone, I won’t be as free to play.”
I don’t need to think about it. I have enough concerns about connecting with the princess without adding additional obstacles. “Let’s leave Mira in Charleston. I want this to be a success as much as you do.”
He gazes at me, and I’m certain that’s pride shining in his eyes. “You’re a tough cookie, Blue Eyes. Still floors me. It shouldn’t, but it still does.”
Although I don’t need constant reassurance, his approval matters to me. I look down, concentrating on fishing the last fat blueberry from the bottom of the stemmed glass, and contemplating exactly what I won’t be as free to play means. The prince is married, but I doubt a little thing like that keeps his dick in his pants. But what about Gray? Will our relationship mean anything when he’s presented with a willing partner?
“We’re having dinner at the club tonight,” Gray says, jolting me out of my head. “Think of it like a coming-out party for us. A lot of eyes will be on you.”
Sweet Jesus. The thought of being on display isn’t at all appealing. But that’s what the assignment requires of me. Suck it up, Delilah. “Good thing you hooked me up with a mani and a pedi.” I’m only being half-sarcastic. The other half is relieved for a little polish before encountering the vultures.
“I need to go,” he says, from the doorway. “You know where to find me if there are any problems.”
“Gray.”
He turns. The dark circles that were under his eyes last night are gone, and from this angle, the navy swirls in his tie play off his eyes, making them seem brighter and bluer.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For engaging me in a discussion about whether Mira should accompany us. And for not telling me to dress appropriately tonight, like I might not be able to figure out what to wear on my own.”
He raps his knuckles against the elaborate doorframe, and nods. “Call if you need anything.”
For the first time since he dragged me into this, I feel like it’s going to be okay. Maybe better than okay.
20
Gray
Delilah is adjusting an earring when I get to the apartment. I can’t take my eyes off her reflection in the mirror. She’s stunning, with just enough makeup to let her natural beauty shine through.
Neither of us says a word while we gaze at each other in the glass. There’s a glimmer of apprehension in her eyes that I hate. It’s that little girl she described last night—the one who never feels she’s enough. My gut twists when I think about it.
“Turn around,” I say gently, drinking in every inch of her. She smooths the dress, nervously, as she swivels to face me. The silky fabric falls gracefully over her curves, hugging, but not clinging to her luscious tits. She chose a sophisticated dress that’s modest enough for dinner at the club, but dips low enough in the front to keep my attention all evening. It’s the perfect tease. “You’re gorgeous.”
The color in her cheeks deepens, but she waves off the compliment. “Anyone can look good with a couple hours in the salon, and a closet filled with beautifully made clothing.”
“Good? That’s an understatement. Good enough to eat, maybe.” I pick up the jeweled necklace off the console, and move her hair aside before I clasp it at the back of her long, graceful neck. Her skin is warm against my fingers, and my cock immediately takes notice.
“You smell delicious,” I murmur, my lips grazing her earlobe. She shivers, and if I don’t stop now, right now, dinner isn’t happening. Tonight’s too important to blow off to make my dick happy. I force myself to step back.
“What time is it?” she asks, slipping on a pair of heels that make my mouth water.
Nice pivot.
“We have a few minutes. I have something for you before we go.” She follows my hand, as it retrieves the pouch from my pocket. I hold the small velvet bag out to her. “It’s just a little something.”
She’s apprehensive, but she takes it. “I hope this isn’t some fancy piece of jewelry that cost enough to feed a family of four for a year.”
“It’s an accessory, but not jewelry.” She glances up at me through long, thick lashes. “It doesn’t bite. Open it,” I coax, when she continues to hesitate.
While Delilah loosens the strings on the pouch and peeks inside, I use the app on my watch to activate the small bullet vibrator. It rattles, startling her—at least momentarily. I laugh at her reaction like I’m a stupid teenager who just got a rise out of the pretty girl.
“I can control it with a remote, or from my watch, or my phone, or from all the way across the world from my laptop.”
Delilah flinches, backing away. “There’s no way I’m wearing that thing out in public.” She shoves the bag at me, but I don’t take it.
“We’re not going to a sex party,” she adds, aggrieved. “We’re having dinner in the most exclusive restaurant in Charleston—that you own. We’ll be out together for the first time. The busybodies will be falling all over each other while they crane their necks to get a good look. Are you crazy?”
I’m beginning to think so. I have two weeks, give or take a few days, to make it believable that kink is a part of our relationship. There is no way Ahmad buys it otherwise. He’s known me for way too long. “Put your hands on the console, and bend over.”
“Gray—I’m not—”
“You are, and you will. The vibrator will remind you to behave. It’s the newest Lush prototype, not even on the market yet,” I explain, hoping to garner some interest in the toy, but that little fact doesn’t seem to impress her.
“To behave?” she spits back at me. “You’ll zap me when I get too close to the property boundary, like I’m a dog?”
Jesus Christ. I don’t know if I’m more annoyed at her, or at myself for using the analogy. “You’re not a dog. And you’re also not a naïve girl. You’re a grown woman who consented to this relationship, and who agreed to let me lead. Implicit in that agreement was that you would follow. Now turn around and place your hands on the table. Don’t make me say it again.”
Delilah lifts her chin, but to my surprise she does as instructed. “Do it,” she grumbles, with resignation. “Just get it the hell over with.”