Chapter 37 Maeve
MAEVE
I smoothed the silvery dress over my body and looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. My face felt hot and nerves jumped in my stomach.
Not exactly ideal for a first date.
Was this a date? With Bram?
I didn’t know. Maybe it was just his way of apologizing, since he seemed incapable of actually saying the words I’m sorry.
Either way it would be the first time I was alone with him since that night in the kitchen during my first stay at the loft, the night he’d refused to kiss me after pretending not to know me at Cassie’s.
Choosing the silver dress hadn’t been easy. There had been three in total: the silver strapless from Dolce, a sheer green shirt dress with a matching bodysuit from Dior, and a red Deco-inspired body-hugging midi dress from Farragamo. Plus two pairs of shoes and two tiny clutches.
All of it was nicer than anything I’d ever owned, and I’d spent more than a minute wondering exactly how the Butchers made so much money when it seemed like all they did was lurk around town like resident monsters.
All the dresses were beautiful but I’d chosen the silver dress because it seemed the most businesslike — if you could call the satin that hugged my body like liquid mercury businesslike — and even though we were going out to dinner, Bram and I had unfinished business.
It had been the right choice. The silver dress set off my black hair, which I’d piled high on my head by following a video online. I’d even pulled out a few loose pieces, as suggested by the video to keep the style from looking too “severe,” even though severe was kind of what of Bram deserved.
The dress was gorgeous, but also no-frills, and I’d paired it with a pair of sky-high black heels (Hermès this time, what the actual fuck?) and a black velvet clutch, both of which had been among the dress boxes.
I’d kept my makeup simple — light eyeshadow and thick mascara, the slightest sweep of color on my cheeks — except for a bright red lip.
I hoped the whole effect was try-and-kiss-me-now-bitch.
I snapped a picture in the mirror and sent it to Bailey with a question mark.
I was nervous about including her in my bizarre situationship with the Butchers, nervous about her judgement, but after our conversation in the food court, I wasn’t willing to risk our friendship by keeping her at a distance.
She replied less than a minute later: Omg, you look incredible, M! Who’s the lucky guy(s)?
I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been scary to contemplate telling Bailey I’d slept with all three Butchers — assuming I included the aborted fucking with Bram in the kitchen — but she’d made it easier by mentioning the possibility that I might be in love with all three of them.
What a time to be alive.
I marked her text with a laughing emoji. Bram. He owes me an apology.
I didn’t say more. Bram had been an asshole — at Cassie’s and in the kitchen that night — but I couldn’t help feeling a flush of shame when I thought about how he’d ignored me, how he wouldn’t kiss me.
It made me feel like there was something wrong with me, like I wasn’t good enough for him even though I knew that wasn’t true.
That was the thing about being a girl in the world: somehow everything seemed to be your fault, and even when you managed to reason yourself out of the idea, there was always someone like Ethan Todd around to make you reconsider.
Or yourself, because internalized misogyny.
With that dress, it better be the best apology ever, Bailey texted back.
I saw the time on my phone and took a deep breath. Then I picked up my nice coat, grabbed the velvet clutch, and headed for the hall.
I felt like a kid on my way to prom making my way down the stairs and the first-floor hall. All of my adult dates had been casual dinners at chain restaurants, maybe a movie or bowling.
There was nothing wrong with those things, but the dresses chosen by Bram had sent a clear message that this was no bowling date.
He meant business.
I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but I knew I’d hit the mark with the dress and everything else when I emerged into the living room to find all three Butchers waiting.
I stifled a flood of affection when I saw that Bram was pacing like a father-to-be.
He was nervous too. Good.
“Holy fuck…” Remy said when he caught sight of me. “Why didn’t you tell us you were hiding a bombshell under those combat boots, killer?”
“I could have told you that,” Poe said, his blue eyes dark with something too complicated to call lust.
“That dress is amazing, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to tear it off you,” Remy said, his eyes still glued to my body.
“Do it and I’ll end you,” Bram said.
And if I’d felt nervous before, well, looking at Bram now sent my nerves into overdrive.
His black silk shirt revealed a tempting glimpse of the ink etched into his muscled chest, and a red brocade jacket made his dark hair and eyes look even darker.
There was something about the contrast between the old-world luxury of the brocade and his scar that made him look even more beautifully forbidding than usual, and it didn’t hurt that his black slacks were snug enough to show off his undeniably big dick.
My pussy pulsed at the memory of him inside me and I ordered her to calm the fuck down.
He walked slowly toward me, but instead of getting up in my business like he had in the kitchen before I’d kneed him in the balls, he kept a respectful few inches between us.
His dark hair looked damp from the shower, and I caught the smell of his cologne (Bram owned cologne?), amber and spice that mingled with his own musky animal scent to create an intoxicating aroma that hit my system like a drug.
“You look beautiful, Maeve.” His voice cracked a little on my name and I realized it was the first time he’d actually used it when speaking to me.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to keep it cool. “You look nice too.”
He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Thanks. Are you ready?”
I nodded and he took my coat gently from my hands and held it out.
I was pretty sure I was going to wake up from this bizarre dream at any second.
Bram helped me with my coat and Remy walked over to smooth Bram’s shirt like a proud father. “Now be a gentleman tonight, son. Be home by midnight sharp, and don’t do anything I would do.”
Remy stumbled as Bram shoved him away. Bram flipped him off for good measure, and then we were on our way down the stairs and out into the night.
Alone.