Chapter Thirty-Seven - Michaela
Chapter Thirty-Seven
MICHAELA
FINN LEANS AGAINST THE SUV his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black suit. A smirk grows on his pink lips when I step into view. “You should’ve worn the other one,” he says placing a hand on my hip. “I don’t like this one.”
My brow quirks in suspicion, “You picked it.”
Another dress courtesy of Finnley Sheffield had shown up on my doorstep this afternoon. When I asked the delivery man if he could return it, he refused with a tight smile before disappearing down the hall. Cursing under my breath, I closed the door with my foot tossing the box on the table. Finn answered the phone on the second ring, and I didn’t give him a chance to say anything, “Stop doing this.”
“Stop doing what?” he asked innocently.
“I already had a dress to wear tonight.”
“I’m aware.”
“Was it not up to your expectations?” I undid the black bow and shook my head when the name Dior came into view.
“A little presumptuous considering I haven’t seen it.”
I dug through the white tissue paper and a black-colored dress came into view. “What’s a little presumptuous is buying me one when you haven’t seen the one I already have.”
“Wear whichever you prefer,” Finn said before whispering to someone on his end of the phone. I assumed it was one of the construction guys since he had been gone the last two days and went straight to the Brooklyn building when he landed in the morning. “I thought I’d give you options.”
David would never have given me the option — if he felt like I needed to wear something in particular, I was wearing it. I thought that was normal. Appreciated it even because I didn’t want to embarrass him or myself. Barnes had thrown a Christmas party last year and I felt an enormous amount of pressure to look and act perfectly considering not only was it the first time I’d be meeting his boss, co-workers, and staff, but we had just gotten married. I had spent the entire day getting dolled up: hair, makeup, nails…I had even hired a stylist to pick out my dress.
“Michaela Reed, you’ve outdone yourself,” I said staring into the mirror. “Pretty as a peach, Daddy would say.” The elegant, off-the-shoulder velvet dress fit like a glove, hugging me in all the right places. I had specifically asked for an emerald color to match the tie I had gotten David for the event. He had been with Barnes most of the day, which left me to get ready without interruption.
“Mic, I’m back!” I heard him enter the apartment. When he had gotten the job with Barnes, we decided he should get an apartment for when he was in Washington, and let’s say, it was obvious a woman didn’t live there full-time. It was more of a bachelor pad than the actual bachelor pad he lived in before we moved to New York. The only semblance of a relationship was one of our wedding photos that sat on his desk. Stepping out of the bedroom, I prepared myself for some kind of reaction that would tell me just how good I looked. “Where are you— Oh, what is that?”
“What?” I looked down at my outfit hoping I hadn’t gotten anything on it already.
“ That . The dress. Why are you wearing it?”
“Because we’re going to a Christmas party.”
“Yes, I know, but why are you wearing that dress? I got one for you; it’s hanging in the closet.” He never told me he had bought me a dress. I followed him back into the bedroom and watched as he pulled out a simple, short-sleeved burgundy-colored dress.
“Oh,” was the only thing I could say. “You don’t think this is a little more…appropriate?”
David looked between them before letting out a deep sigh, “I suppose it’s sufficient.”
Sufficient?
“I mean, I guess I can wear that instead, I just—”
“I want you to be comfortable, y’know? I think you’d be a lot more comfortable in this.”
I took the dress from him and walked into the bathroom hanging it on the back of the door. I sat on the edge of the tub and stared at it. Under normal circumstances, I’d think it was pretty and I might even buy it, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. Not only was this party the first one I’d been invited to, but it was our first one as a married couple.
A knock on the door after a few minutes, “You ‘bout done? We have to go.”
When I opened the door, David’s lips pulled into a small smile, “There, doesn’t that feel better?”
“Yeah, so much better. You were right.”
He pulled me to him and kissed my forehead. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”
When we walked into the party that night, I wasn’t surprised to see every other woman in a dress similar to my emerald one, hell some of them were dressed fancier. I’d felt extremely underdressed in the dress he chose, but David didn’t seem to notice. His hand never left its place on my lower back all night, guiding me through the crowd and introducing me to his friends, colleagues, and finally Senator Barnes. Despite the smiles and polite interactions, I couldn’t shake the looming feeling I was the talk of the party — and not in a good way.
“You mean that?” I asked Finn, pulling the dress out of the box, unsure if he really meant it or was trying to coax me into changing into this insanely gorgeous black one-shouldered dress with an incredible asymmetrical neckline that transformed into a cape off the right shoulder. Talk about a showstopper.
“Of course,” Finn said. “You can wear whatever you want, Shortcake. Either way, it’ll end up on the floor.”
“Finn!” He chuckled before hanging up without another word leaving me to face the impossible decision of what to wear. Was it a test, or could I wear the one I had picked out? I hung the black dress on the closet door and stared at it. It’s not a test, I told myself, he just wants to do something nice for you. That was something I wasn’t used to.
“And, I want to rip it off and ravage you right here in front of all of New York City,” Finn says, his breath hot against my ear as his right hand trails down my hip to the slit in my thigh. His fingers are like fire on my skin when they slip under the material. “Show them who you belong to.” My small gasp urges him on, and his hand travels closer and closer to my throbbing core that has been craving his touch since he left three days ago. Fingers graze the material of my underwear before pushing it aside.
“Sir,” Tony clears his throat and Finn’s hand retreats. Damnit, Tony. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late. Traffic is a nightmare.”
“You ready?” Finn asks as if he wasn’t about to finger me on the sidewalk. I nod, unsure I trust myself to speak at the moment.