Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“She’s friendly and warm,” Liam continued, oblivious to my internal chaos. “She could help counterbalance your…”
“Assholeness?”
“I was going to say gruff exterior,” he said, his tone amused. “But whatever works for you.”
I laughed despite myself, and some of my irritation about the whole Alexander situation faded. It wasn’t ideal, but I could handle it. And Liam was right. Having Raina at my side would help. Not just because she could probably win over anyone I needed to do business with, but because her presence would make the entire evening more bearable.
“Fine, I’ll bring her,” I said.
And if the prospect of having her on my arm in an elegant evening gown appealed to me more than it should have…well, no one else needed to know that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Raina
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room, I smoothed my hand down the front of the evening gown I wore, studying my reflection with a critical eye.
This was the fifth dress I’d tried on, and so far, it was my favorite by a wide margin. The sapphire blue fabric brought out the color of my eyes and contrasted beautifully against my fair skin. The fit was impeccable—an off-the-shoulder bodice that did wonderful things for my cleavage, leading into a sleek, floor-length silhouette that hugged my curves in a way that felt both sophisticated and undeniably alluring.
I could picture Simon’s gaze traveling over me in this dress. The thought sent goosebumps racing across my bare shoulders.
Not that it matters if he likes how I look, I reminded myself firmly. As long as I was dressed appropriately for the gala, that was all that counted. This was a work event and certainly not a date. Simon had even given me a company credit card to buy a dress, which was why I was standing in this upscale boutique while my best friend, Wren, lounged on a velvet chaise and sipped complimentary champagne in the outer area while I changed.
She’d offered her opinion on every dress so far, so I stepped out of the dressing room to get her verdict on this one.
The moment I came into view, Wren’s eyes went wide and she let out a low whistle. “You’re going to give your boss a heart attack if you wear that.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. More mirrors surrounded a small platform out here, offering views from multiple angles, and I stepped up onto the pedestal. “Is it too much for a work function?”
“It’s a black-tie gala at a Manhattan hotel.” Wren rose from the chaise and walked up behind me, her reflection appearing over my shoulder. “I’m not sure too much exists for that kind of event.”
She’d come straight from her office, still dressed in a sharp business suit with her dark hair smoothed back in a sensible bun. She looked every bit the responsible, put-together attorney she presented herself as in the courtroom. No one would guess that she’d spent last weekend belting out Cyndi Lauper tunes at karaoke while downing flaming Sambuca shots like it was an Olympic sport.
My bestie was wild in the best possible way. Loud and opinionated, but fiercely loyal. She worked brutal hours as a contract lawyer during the week and used her weekends to decompress with a vengeance. We’d been friends for nearly a decade, since our senior year in high school, and while my family was wonderful, Wren was my ride or die.
“I just don’t want Simon to think I’ve gone overboard,” I said, checking out my backside. There was an obvious panty line from my cotton underwear, which meant I’d need to opt for something different the night of the gala. A thong, probably.
Too bad no one would see it.
The thought arrived unbidden, and my blush deepened as my imagination ran away with me. Simon’s hands finding the zipper at my back. The fabric falling to my feet. His eyes darkening as he discovered what I was wearing underneath—
Desire pooled low in my belly at the thought, because I secretly wanted him to look at me like that. I wanted to see hunger break through that carefully maintained composure of his. Simon was focused and professional to a fault, but there were moments—brief, electric moments—when I caught glimpses of more beneath the surface. Heat flickering in his green eyes. A tension in his jaw that suggested restraint. I wanted to see his walls crumble, and I wanted to be the one who made it happen.
It was all a fantasy in my head, of course. None of that was ever going to happen because he was my boss.
“How much is this gown, anyway?” I asked, desperate to redirect my thoughts.
The dresses here didn’t have visible price tags, which was either an aesthetic choice or a strategy to encourage interaction with sales associates. Regardless, that lack of transparency made me nervous. This silk gown probably cost a small fortune, and it seemed excessive to spend so much on something I might never wear again.