Chapter 21
MONTE CARLO, MONACO
When Indy emerged from the gym, Miles was stretched out on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, absently scratching Rosie’s head as the dog laid beside him.
She could feel his gaze follow her movements as she marched towards the kitchen, and she smiled in triumph at the thought of it—knowing she’d been able to distract him by simply existing.
As she poured herself a glass of water, she peered over her shoulder to watch Miles sit up. She leaned against the counter and sipped her drink in silence, feeling her pulse settle into a steady rhythm.
She could get used to this routine on days off, but sometimes she forgot about the original ordeal. Forgot this was only a temporary solution and that she needed to go back to looking for a small flat she could afford. Her parents had offered numerous times to buy a place for her, but she kept refusing their kindness and generosity.
Miles’ phone chimed, and he read the text message he’d received, scoffing.
“I wonder what kind of messages the talented Miles Huxley receives on a daily basis,” she prompted. “How many girls try to slide into your DMs to hook up?”
“A lot,” he muttered in a huff. “As much as haters messaging me to say they’re bothered by the fact I win most races.”
“Oh, I?—”
He rapidly glanced at her. “It’s fine. These messages make me laugh.”
She truly admired Miles’ resilience. Receiving hate freely wasn’t fun, and it certainly wasn’t easy to be under the spotlight and be critiqued so openly.
“But Tara just texted me,” he announced, setting his phone down as he leaned back, hands locking behind his head. Slowly, a smirk spread across his lips. Like this, he was the perfect portrait of arrogance, and she committed the sight to memory to draw him later.
“Tara?” Indy repeated slowly, setting her glass down. “Like, Tara, my coworker?”
“Yes.”
“Why is she texting you?” Indy tried not to let jealousy and irritation weave into her voice as she asked the question with faux sweetness.
“You’d be surprised by the amount of times this girl tries to grab my attention. I mostly ignore her texts, but the one she’s just sent me is very, very interesting.”
She gripped the counter behind a bit too tightly. “Humour me.”
Miles’ expression was blank. He didn’t let on whether he was amused or bothered by this situation, but Indy was definitely fuming inside. She knew Tara wanted to rile her up. For what reason? Indy didn’t know.
“She asked me if I have a date to the gala we’re attending this weekend,” he informed, standing up. He was tall and handsome, and the power he innately exuded made her heart race.
Indy held his gaze as he stepped towards her. “Well, what are you going to tell her?”
He blinked, then lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Firstly, she’s rude to you and thinks she’s better than you. She constantly talks to me even when I told her I wasn’t interested.”
“Wait, what?”
“The other night when I was out with the guys, she was there and wanted to hook up. I told her no.”
Indy felt the frustration flare through her veins, making her blood boil. Regardless, she refused to show how upset she truly was. “You know, I’m sure she’d be a sweetheart with you. Plus, she has great hair. Beautiful, long, brown hair. I’ve always wanted to be a brunette, like Mum. Do you think I could pull it off? Also, she’s curvier, and really pretty. She’s shorter than me, but still has got a good height, so that when you kiss her you won’t hurt your neck, and?—”
“She’s not you, Indy.”
“Oh, and she—” The entire world paused as she whispered, “What?”
Miles now stood in front of her, but the distance felt immense. The way he looked at her, glanced at her mouth, stepped into her personal space without so much as darting his gaze away… She felt like combusting under the intensity of it all. “She isn’t you.”
“But—”
The moment he caged her in by placing his hands on the counter, his thumb coming to brush over her knuckles, she felt her breath catch. “Do you have a date for the gala?”
“Do you ?”
His jaw tightened. “I hate these kinds of events. I was planning on going on my own since it’s mandatory for me to attend, but I’m surprised no one’s asked you to accompany them.”
“There’s one person who hasn’t asked,” she retorted, holding his gaze.
Obviously, she had gotten quite a few invitations to the gala. Charlie was even willing to take her, but she had declined the sweet offer just because, deep down, she’d been wishing that Miles would grow some balls and ask her out. Sure, a work event couldn’t be considered a date per se, but Indy would take every single scrap of affection she could get from him. Even if it was for a couple of hours where cameras would be pointed at them.
Was her desperation pathetic? One hundred percent.
Amusement shone in his eyes as a shadow of a smirk ghosted over his lips. “I see. Well, Daisy, you’re my date to the gala.”
She raised her brows. “I am? Can I at least think about it? I have tons of applications to go through.”
His chuckle was music to her ears. “Sure. I already know your answer, anyway.”
With a huff, she rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “So sure of yourself.”
“Don’t look so surprised.” His whisper caressed her lips, softly, teasingly. “If I’m going to the gala, it’s you that I’m taking. No one else.”
“Fine.” Indy tipped her chin up, her nose grazing his. “I’m only accepting because I don’t have a date yet and time’s running short.”
“Great.” He smiled, then pecked her cheek, his lips coming to hover above the shell of her ear. “Besides, I have a type. I’ve always been into blondes. Tall women. Snarky. Ferocious. My best mate’s sister. You, specifically.”
After rummaging through her closet, throwing clothes on the bed, and calling her mother to see if she could borrow a dress, Indy found Miles leaning against the door of her bedroom, amused by the mess she had made.
Because the timing was too short for Lisa to ship a dress to Monaco and have it arrive on time for the gala, Miles suggested taking Indy shopping.
She expected him to drop her off in front of the shop whilst he would go purchase a new watch or something, but not for him to walk in with her, pick dresses, and wait as she tried them on.
Indy was currently watching her reflection, doubt pinching at her expression.
She planted her hands on her hips and tore the curtains open. Miles was sitting in a loveseat, scrolling through his phone. He looked up at Indy, blinking, then roaming his stare up and down her body.
“Nope.”
“Agreed. I look dumb.”
He frowned. “You don’t. This dress just isn’t made for you.”
Huffing, she went back into the dressing room. There was one dress left on the hanger—the one Miles had chosen. She hadn’t intended on wearing black at the gala, just because she’d wanted something different, but this dress looked like onyx dotted with tiny silver gemstones.
“Huxley?” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“You can go, you know.” Carefully, she undressed herself, placing the navy blue dress on its hanger. “I don’t want to be a burden. I could meet you later to grab some food if you’d like. I don’t want to bore you to death. I mean, this could take ages. I look awful in everything!”
He chuckled dryly. “You could never bore me. I’d sit here all day and watch you try on every dress this store has.”
She was thankful for the curtains shielding herself from him because the blush blooming across her chest was almost embarrassing.
“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
His smile was evident through his tone. “You have no idea.”
The dress clinging to her body was utterly beautiful. Strapless, the corset hugged her torso and breasts, putting their swell in perfect evidence. The black fabric was cinched at the waist before floating down her legs, a long slit perceptible along her left thigh.
Indy hummed, impressed, pushing her breasts up. She peered at her reflection from over her shoulder, enjoying the way most of her back was exposed.
Now, she needed to tug the zipper upwards.
And of course, it got stuck.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Of fucking course.”
She took a deep breath in after trying again, only to fail miserably.
“Huxley?” She kept her voice steady and calm despite the furious beating of her heart.
“What’s up?”
“Can you come here for a sec?” She couldn’t help but laugh nervously again when he opened the curtain and took a step back. “Zipper’s stuck.”
Miles fell against the wall, like he’d lost his balance, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck. His brows lifted in pleasant surprise as he took his time to scrutinise her. Slowly. Taking in every detail. “Indy,” he breathed out. “You look stunning.”
“I’m not even wearing any makeup. Don’t have my heels on.”
“Still.” He stepped inside the small room, tugging the curtains to shield them from the world. “You could wear PJs for all I care, and I’d still think you’re breathtaking.”
She blushed, turning around to hide it from him.
He stepped closer, closer, closer, until the heat emanating from his body radiated upon her bare back.
“What do you say when I compliment you?” He brushed her hair away from her back to splay it on her shoulder.
She met his gaze through the mirror. “Thank you.”
Receiving compliments wasn’t something she was unaccustomed to. On the contrary, she got them daily. She loved them. They helped her build her confidence. But being praised and applauded by Miles was different. It always had been.
He smiled softly, then his knuckles grazed her spine, and her breath got stuck somewhere in her body. “How cliché is this?”
With one hand, she held the bodice to her chest as she gathered her hair with the other one, exposing the length of her neck to him. If he noticed her skin pebbling, he didn’t show it. “Trust me, I would have avoided this situation.”
“Really?” he droned amusedly. A frown settled on his brows when he tried to tug the zipper up as gently as he could. “Damn it.” He stepped even closer, and Indy could feel his breath fan across the back of her neck. “This is really stuck.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” She felt her breath catch for numerous reasons: his hands on her, their sheer proximity, and the awe blended with utter concentration etched on his features. “I mean, as much as I love your hands on me and seeing you so flustered, I still think this is embarrassing.”
“Happens to everyone,” he gruffly assured.
“How many of your dates have you had to rescue when they couldn’t zip their dress?”
“None,” he said. “Just you. It’s always just you, Daisy.”
He flicked his eyes to her, a charming smile spreading across his lips. Then, as he raked his stare over her with such intensity, she saw a flash of vehemence heat up his gaze.
“Got it,” he murmured.
Indy was certain goosebumps had appeared in the wake of his touch as his knuckles caressed her skin. His delicacy felt akin to a serenade, poetry, but the blatant desire glinting around his pupils set her skin ablaze.
Miles leaned forward, planting one brief, powerful kiss on the back of her neck. The contact of his lips upon her flesh made her tremble, and she closed her eyes for a moment, losing herself in the desire burning her veins.
“Huxley…” she breathed out, unable to do anything except feel the way his breath warmed her skin.
Instead of backing away, instead of putting some distance between them, he took hold of her hips, pressing her back into his chest, his lips skimming over the side of her neck until they reached the shell of her ear.
Indy had stopped breathing, had stopped existing. She leaned into him, powerless. His big hands ran up her ribs, halting below her breasts, and that was when she felt the sheer size of him press against the small of her back.
Oh, God.
“This dress…” His voice was gruff, husky, and Indy was ready to succumb. All she had to do was spin around to crash her lips to his. “You…” He kissed her neck again, and she shivered. He smirked against her skin, like he’d noticed the noxious power he had over her. “You drive me mad.”
“Do something about it.” She was surprised by the steadiness of her command.
“Indy,” he warned slowly.
She grabbed his left hand, trailing it down her waist, her hip, her upper thigh, until it reached the opening of the slit. His fingers were hot, and the featherlight caress on her skin felt as though he’d already stripped her naked.As though the flutter of his digits were embedding one single word he wanted to whisper: mine .
Tangling her fingers in the hair at his nape, she compelled him to lock his gaze with hers in the reflection. His eyes were almost black with intense desire, his fingers travelling up and down her exposed flesh as his perusal halted on her breasts. A groan vibrated when his palm disappeared beneath the dress, inching towards the inside of her thigh.
“If I dare you to take it off of me after the gala,” she started, “will you do it?”
The smirk pulling at his mouth was all mischief and defiance. “You already know I don’t back out from a challenge, love.”
“And if I dare you to slip your hand between my thighs now, will you do it?”
A low grunt rumbled in his chest as his jaw tightened. His nostrils flared slightly, his lips parting as his stare stayed on her heaving chest.
“Ask me,” he whispered.
Indy smiled—a triumphant queen. Pulling at his hair, she turned her face to let her lips find his ear. He was on the brink of panting, she presumed, by the rapid movement of his torso. Was on the cusp of finally touching her, and that made the arousal pooling inside her belly expand to the point of becoming torturous. “Huxley, I dare you to?—”
A knock resonated on the wall, startling the both of them. “Everything alright in there? Need a hand?”
“It’s not a goddamn hand that I need,” she huffed in a whisper. “It’s just your cock.”
“Fucking hell, Indy.”
Miles dropped his forehead on her shoulder as Indy chuckled. She linked her fingers through his, bringing his arm around her waist. “Just fine,” Indy called out. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Miles made her spin around, his fingers tilting her chin upwards. The heat in his gaze, the slight tremor in his fingers, the anticipation in the way his chest heaved. Indy could get down on her knees for him, but she wouldn’t do it without seeing him bow first.
“Next time, I’ll make sure we’re not interrupted,” he promised huskily.
“Good,” she murmured. “I’m holding you to that, Golden Boy.”