Chapter 28
twenty-eight
-Serena-
I think it was early morning when we finally got to bed, so it makes perfect sense that I didn’t wake up until the afternoon. I know Set got up earlier. But I just couldn’t bring myself to follow.
Still, I can’t resist him. I open a can of tuna. That’s his favorite, and even before I finish peeling back the lid, he jumps on the counter to inspect what I’m doing, making sure the fish goes into the right bowl—his.
I don’t know where Set is. I have a vague feeling we’re supposed to be doing something today. I’m so confused lately with everything going on that days are blurring into one another.
I just decide to throw on some Netflix and chill before figuring out what to do with the rest of the day—or where Set even is.
I could just call or text him, but I need a few moments to breathe before I get sucked into whatever insane plan he’s cooked up this time.
And of course, that’s exactly what happens, because twenty minutes later, he walks in carrying two cloth bags.
I stare at him, confused for a second, trying to figure out what I’m missing.
“You didn’t forget about the party, did you?” he asks, tossing the bags on the couch and totally busting me because I know he can’t tell I had no clue what he’s talking about until he said it.
I need to get my shit together. I’m all over the place these days.
“You forgot,” he notices, and instantly a worried expression shifts the lines on his face.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He comes and crouches in front of me.
“You’ll get used to it. Things will start falling into place, you’ll see.
” He brushes his thumb across my lips, then helps me off the couch.
“Come on, we’ve got to get ready. This isn’t something I can skip.
” He walks me to my bedroom. “Do your makeup or whatever—then I’ll come and dress you. ”
“Haven’t we gotten over the part where I can’t do anything by myself? I thought you were done punishing me.”
“I’m not sure I ever want to go back to the part where you can do things by yourself. I wanna be with you all the time,” he whispers, helping me sit at my makeup table. “Near you,” he murmurs, brushing my hair off one shoulder and leaning in so his lips can find their way to my ear, “Inside you.”
I swallow the knot in my throat as he backs away and leaves the room.
Fuck, I’m sweating. That’s definitely gonna screw with my make up. I need a shower first.
I could’ve just gone to the beauty salon downstairs, but I never know what to ask for, and every time they do something to me, I end up hating it—because I pretty much want the same thing done to my hair almost every time.
I just use a hair waver to make loose curls, and give myself some evening glam makeup. I used to be obsessed with makeup, I liked learning the styles and every application step. So pulling off a perfect Hollywood look is no problem for me.
“I’m ready,” I announce to Set after I check myself in the mirror, fully pleased with what I see. And judging by the look on his face when he walks in, so is he.
“Wow, we might just stay in after all,” he smiles as he moves toward me, his gaze telling me it won’t take much for him to change his mind about the party.
He’s wearing a stunning black designer tux, making him look like a dark Prince Charming of the Underworld. And if the damn piercing wasn’t still giving me trouble, he’d be right—we’d stay in. But this is how he wanted things—so we’re going to the party.
“Did you bring me the dress?” I ask, trying to change the subject, as I eye the garment bag he’s carrying. I can see there’s a black dress there, and since he’s already dressed, I don’t think it’s for him.
“Yeah, I grabbed this for you on my way in,” he says, unzipping the bag and pulling out a skin-tight, over the knee bodycon dress with a thigh-high slit.
By the looks of it, I can’t wear a bra—or even panties. Not sure if telling him that is a good idea, so I just get up from the chair, grab the dress, and head to the bathroom to change.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, and I know exactly why he’s asking this question.
He’s expecting to dress me, but there’s no way I can let that happen right now.
So I make a run to the bathroom, and before he can follow, I throw off my robe and yank the dress over my head.
Not that I’m actually managing to put it on.
There are strings everywhere, and they’re getting tangled in my freshly done hair. Fuck.
Set pushes the door open behind me, and I can’t help laughing when I see how worked up he is about me walking out on him.
“Fine, put this on me,” I mutter, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Something’s wrapped around me, but you can’t really tell it's a dress. At least it covers my piercing—so he won’t get any new ideas.
“I’ll save the best for later, so don’t worry—we’re still going to that party,“ he says, trailing a finger down my spine, as he starts fixing the mess of strings at the back of my dress. I straighten it a little, and he helps me free my hand from one of the tangled cords in the back until it actually starts to look like a dress. But it’s still not enough for him.
Now he’s got to run those damn hands all over my body over and over again, over every curve and every fold of the dress, like he’s tailoring the damn thing to perfection.
I know he’s not really fixing anything. He’s just messing with my head, ravaging my body, and whatever’s left of my sanity while he’s at it.
“Mmm, this damn dress looks fucking stunning on you,” he whispers, his breath’s hot against my neck.
“But without you, it’s just an overpriced scrap of fabric.
” My heart just skipped a beat, and I’m almost afraid to turn to him because I don’t think I can stop myself from kissing him.
And wouldn’t be the type of kiss that would stop just at that.
“I need to find some sandals to go with this,” I say, leaving the bathroom, but not without stealing one last glance at him. He’s biting his lips as if he’s waiting for something—something he’s not going to receive.
I go to my dressing room and grab a pair of gold tie-up sandals from a lineup of nearly identical ones in every color.
Oh, I love making decisions like this. Only, this is something I really didn’t think through too well.
My dress is too tight, and that piercing’s killing me every time I try to bend and tie my sandals.
Luckily for me, I get an idea pretty quickly and stop in front of Set, who’s sitting on the bed, waiting for me to get ready.
If he wanted to help, now’s his chance. I toss the sandals to the floor, slip my foot into one, then lift it in the air, stopping only on Set’s chest, where I press, heel digging into his tux.
They’re brand new, so it’s not like I’m dirtying his outfit.
I don’t think that he even cares at this point, he just smiles, sliding both hands up my leg for support, and slowly starts wrapping the strings around me.
Maybe this was a mistake, because his gesture is so sensual that it makes everything in my body hurt.
The top of his hand slips a little further—higher on my thigh, finger slowly digging into my flesh as he leaves a trail of pure lust down my legs.
I switch legs before he drives me totally insane. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I don’t know what this man is doing to me, but by the time he’s done, my mental sanity’s gone as well.
I press my other leg against the center of his chest, and he groans. I bet next time we have sex, he’ll make me wear heels. I almost laugh at the thought, but his hands gripping my legs quickly make me snap out of it.
My breath catches as he works to tie up the cord, but his grip on me is different this time, and I can tell he’s not letting go when he’s done. No—his hands slide up my thighs, gently lifting my dress, just enough so he can see his property.
I want to be ashamed because he’s staring straight at my pussy. But I’m not. I’m burning from inside out, like a fucking bomb, ready to blow—so turned on I can barely stand.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks, glancing between us for the glint of jewelry he knows is there, shining just for him.
“Yes,” I snap, even though it’s not a hundred percent accurate. It still hurts, but it’s a very bearable pain. It’s more like a reminder of who I belong to. “You’re not touching me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Don’t fool yourself that I need your permission to touch you,” he grins, slowly—and I mean slowly—retrieving his fingers. Then he gently lowers my foot back on the ground and readjusts my dress. “We have to go. There’s a charity event at eight, and the party’s on the outskirts of town.”
Fine by me. We really need to get out of here anyway.
But before we do, Set makes me wait a minute, then comes back holding a jewelry box I remember all too well.
“I think it’s time you had these back,” he says, handing me the box, and I know exactly what’s inside—the star earrings he gave me.
I haven’t seen them since Italy. But no matter how dear they are to me, they only remind me of one thing—I hurt him.
I did him wrong. I betrayed him. And when it came to the two of us, I was the villain, not him.
I don’t apologize, though, just take the box and put on the earrings, trying to wipe the guilty expression off my face. I don’t think I’m succeeding. But I know I’ll make it up to him one day.
Set takes us to the party in his two-seater Bugatti, and as we drive up the front alley, I notice the place is swarming with luxury cars and limos.
This is a high-roller party, probably crawling with celebrities.
I never thought to ask, but now that I’m looking at the impressive villa in front of us, I’m curious.
The luxurious estate must have over two dozen rooms—maybe more—judging by all the windows.