Chapter 5 #2
As soon as I close the door behind me, I rush to use the toilet.
Something that proves to be difficult while holding up the heavy garment that feels more like a straitjacket than a designer gown.
I kick off my shoes and wiggle my toes, silently promising myself that I’ll never wear anything that causes physical pain to my body again.
I wash my hands and while I’m at it, start scrubbing at my caked-on makeup with the simple hand soap at my disposal. I have toiletries packed in my bag, but I can’t stand the thought of looking like this any longer.
I stare back at my reflection, bare faced with a few streaks of stubborn mascara that I’ll have to try to wash off with my actual skincare products later.
The person staring back at me shocks me to my core. Because I look… like someone else. Like the character I’ve been dutifully playing since Damien put a ring on my finger.
I glance down at the large diamond that shines tauntingly at me.
How did I get it all so wrong? Not just today, but the entire relationship?
All I wanted was a man who loved me. A person I could build a family with. Grow old with. Someone my dad, the only parent I’ve ever known, would approve of.
But somewhere along the way, our dates turned into business meetings.
Gentle suggestions became firm expectations.
And love was nowhere to be found.
He spent his days out on the campaign trail, and I spent mine alone in my room. Making myself useful to everyone around me so I wouldn’t have to sit long enough to look around and see the condition in which my life currently stood.
It made me question if I was built for that kind of life, and if Damien and I were even compatible anymore.
Somehow, my father would always know when I was at my breaking point and would remind me that my future husband was working for the greater good. Not only for our state, but our home. And Damien always knew the right time to surprise me with flowers and dinner at a popular restaurant.
And even though he’d spend the entire meal standing up to shake hands and introduce himself to other prominent patrons, for those fleeting moments, it felt good to know I was with someone I could call my own. Someone I could be proud of, even though I don’t believe he could say the same about me.
The woman who graduated with an MBA but turned down a job at my father’s company to join my brother at the New York Monarchs and work alongside their social media team and community outreach.
I know I’m a total nepo baby.
Or a nepo sibling in this instance, since I wouldn’t have a place in the Monarchs organization if it weren’t for my brother unexpectedly inheriting the team from our estranged grandfather.
But regardless of how I got there, I found a little place in the world that I could claim as my own. I was excited about going to work every day. I finally had an amazing group of friends who actually liked me for who I was instead of what my last name could do for them.
And I found Luke.
A friend who I felt safe enough to be my true self with.
Not the stuffy twenty-four-year-old with pressed Chanel suits in muted colors, but the girl who goes out in comfy T-shirts, ripped jeans, and her emotional support Converses.
So how the hell did I get it so wrong?
How did I let this farce go on for so long?
I splash water across my face, hoping the cold bite will snap me out of my spiraling thoughts, but it’s no use.
Somehow, the dress keeps getting tighter as the day drags on. It becomes harder to breathe, and I find myself clawing at my back, hoping to find the zipper and finally release myself from the cruel confinement.
Only to remember that my mother-in-law chose a dress that has tiny buttons running down the entire back.
I start to panic.
I need to get this dress off.
Right now.
I’m able to loosen two of the buttons near my upper back, but it takes forever, and the thought of wearing the physical reminder of today for another moment is enough to have me bursting out of the bathroom in search of Luke.
He sets my luggage on the kitchen island, his head snapping up. “Daisy, what happened?”
I dart for him. “I’m—the dress. I need it off. I need your help,” I pant.
Luke’s eyes widen as he looks around the room, as if he can call in an assist at a time like this. If I weren’t in the middle of spiraling out of my mind, I might have found it amusing. “Please,” I croak.
My broken voice seems to be the thing that springs Luke into action. He turns me by my shoulders to face away from him. “Careful, you’ve already scratched yourself here, Daze.” He drags his thumb down an exposed piece of skin beneath my dress, and a shiver runs down my spine.
His fingers still momentarily. “I got you. It’s going to be okay.” And then they start to move, methodically releasing each button as his knuckles run down my back.
The panic starts to subside, but now I’m having trouble breathing for a completely different reason.
This can’t honestly be happening right now.
I know it’s been a long time since I’ve been touched by a man and even longer since I’ve been intimate with one, but this is not the time, and he is not the person I should be fantasizing about.
This is Luke. My Luke. And I can’t risk ruining one of the very few real relationships in my life because my body doesn’t know how to control its biological urges.
If Luke doesn’t get me out of this dress in the next five seconds, I fear he’s going to know why a small gasp escapes my lips every few seconds. Or how my shivers have nothing to do with the coolness in the air.
He’s going to sense the illicit thoughts running through my head as his hands tease down my back like a lover’s whisper.
I feel the warming sensation low in my belly and know it won’t be long until there’s physical evidence of my arousal.
“Luke, please. Just—rip it,” I plead.
He speeds up the process, but he continues to remove each button carefully. “We’re halfway there. I’ll be done in no—”
“I’m sorry I’m acting this way. I know you’re trying to help. But you don’t have to be so gentle with me. I’m not going to break. So please, rip—”
“As you wish, Daisy girl,” he drawls in my ear.
The tear and the scattering of buttons is deafening. The dress falls, and as it pools at my feet, my hands automatically raise to my bare chest. I had forgotten that the bra was built into the dress and not on my body.
This is also the moment I realize I am standing in front of Luke wearing nothing but a lacy white thong.
Maybe if I don’t move, I’ll become invisible. Or he’ll take pity on me and find one of the very few doors in this cabin and lock himself in it until I can get my clothes out of my bag and change.
My racing thoughts come to a halt when I feel warmth on my lower back and hear a growl loud enough to make my bones shake.
Then I feel his hands on my left thigh.
Only then do I realize there was one more thing left on my body.
My garter.
That is until Luke rips it clean off me and escapes with it out the sliding door without a backward glance.