8. "This isn't a damn runway. It's a charity gala."
The velvet dress I chose to wear for the gala hugged every curve of my body like it was made just for me.
Deep red, off-shoulder and criminally short. The kind of dress that made you feel like sin, like a delicious, unignorable temptation. The kind that demanded attention. Unwavering attention.
As someone who had been treated like an invisible being for a good deal of my life, I enjoyed the attention. I liked feeling desired. Feeling important. Most importantly, I enjoyed feeling good about myself and being comfortable in my own skin.
I turned sideways in front of the mirror, adjusting the neckline slightly, not that it did much to hide the generous dip of my cleavage. My hair was pinned up in loose waves, lips painted a sultry red. I looked perfectly dangerous.
The gala wasn't about me. But I'd be damned if I stood in the corner like background noise while Zayden played the brooding prince of A&S corporation.
He thought I didn't belong in his world?
I was going to show him just how wrong he was.
I stepped into my heels and grabbed the small velvet clutch that matched my dress. Stepping out of my room, I took a deep breath, ready to strut down the stairs and sit in the car.
I had only taken a couple of steps when I noticed Zayden's bedroom door slightly ajar.
I nudged his door open, thinking of messing with him a little before we left. "Hey—"
And froze.
Zayden was standing near the floor length mirror...
Shirtless.
Toned chest, firm abs, muscles cut like they'd been sculpted from stone. A black dress shirt hung loose in his hand, halfway on. His hair was still damp from the shower, swept back, making him look even more devastating than usual.
For the first time since he had returned, I felt genuinely flustered. Heat pulsed down to my core at the sight, and I found myself desiring to see more.
He was equally astonished and taken aback when he saw me standing in the doorway like the room belonged to me, before an utterly dangerous, pissed look crossed his handsome face.
His gaze dropped to my dress, and for a moment, just a second, I swear I saw his jaw clench and his throat bob like he'd just swallowed something thick and hot.
"What the hell are you doing?" He snapped.
I blinked, swallowing down the hot sensations swirling in my body. I barely had much on, yet I felt hot. "Relax. Your door was open."
"That doesn't give you the license to strut into my room like you own the damn place!" He raised his voice.
"Wasn't planning on staying," I said coolly, though my eyes definitely lingered a beat too long on his abs. "But now I'm reconsidering."
Something flickered in his eyes before he yanked the shirt over his shoulders and buttoned it up like his life depended on it.
"Get. Out."
"Touchy," I said, crossing my arms, ignoring the flutter in my stomach. "Shouldn't you be in a good mood today?"
His glare could've scorched the walls. "I would have been ecstatic had my parents not decided to take you along."
I snickered. "Oh come on, the event could use some glamour."
His eyes darkened, becoming ice cold. "Get out of my room and go change. Do you have nothing decent in your wardrobe?"
"What's wrong with this?" I stepped forward, giving him a twirl. "Don't I look just stunning in this?"
A storm brewed in his eyes. "It's too revealing."
My laugh came out smooth. "Please. You think this is revealing? I've seen more skin on fashion runways."
"This isn't a damn runway. It's a charity gala."
"Exactly. And who doesn't love a little... generosity?" I grinned.
He turned away from me, muttering a curse under his breath as he fastened his cuffs. "You're impossible."
I tilted my head, walking a little deeper into the room, just to poke the bear. "Why does it bother you so much, Zayden? Afraid I'll outshine you tonight?"
"You're not going to stand beside me," he said darkly. "You'll be on the other side of the room. Preferably behind a pillar."
"Too bad your father has us listed under the same table." I said smugly.
His hand paused mid-button. "What?"
I smirked. "Didn't you check the seating chart? You're sitting right beside me. All evening."
His eyes narrowed. "This isn't a joke."
"Does it look like I'm joking?" I raised an eyebrow.
We stared at each other for a long beat. His shirt was finally buttoned, but he hadn't moved to grab his tie yet.
Probably because his entire focus was still on me and how much he hated what I was wearing. Or how much he wanted to hate it.
"Your dress is inappropriate," he said finally, voice low and tight. "You're going to be photographed. This isn't some club—"
"Oh, please," I cut in. "If anything, the press will love me. I'll get your company more headlines than you ever could."
"Not the kind of headlines I want. I'd rather have news of my success and brilliant business strategies all over the internet, not a scandal in a skimpy dress." He spoke bitterly.
I stepped closer, close enough to smell his perfume—dark and sexy, just like him.
"You don't get to control what I wear," I said softly yet firmly. "Not now. Not ever."
He didn't respond at first.
But his eyes dropped again. To the dress. The legs. The curve of my waist.
And for all his control, he couldn't stop it.
That look.
That desire.
That hunger.
"Get out of my room, Aurelia," he said through gritted teeth. "Better yet, get out of my house."
I smiled. "I'll leave when I feel like it." I asserted, heading for the tie lying on his bed before walking back to him with it.
His breath caught as I flung it around his neck, my fingers brushing his neck ever so slightly.
"You can do the rest yourself." I smiled sweetly, before turning on my heel and heading for the door, making sure to sway my hips as I did.
I could feel the heat of his gaze on my behind as I walked out of his room.
Tonight was going to be fun.
I stared at the empty doorway long after she disappeared.
The scent of her perfume still lingered. Sweet. Bold. Designed to get under skin and into the bloodstream.
She had no right looking like that.
Wearing a damn velvet slip disguised as a dress. Sauntering in like she didn't just set the room on fire. And then walking away, all smug, like I was the one left flustered.
Which—fine.
Maybe I was.
But she didn't need to know that.
I shoved the thought aside and finished getting dressed, every button and fold a pathetic attempt to restore some sense of control.
I was halfway down the staircase when my father's voice cut through the buzz of last-minute prep.
"Zayden!"
I looked over. He was near the entryway, straightening his cufflinks. Beside him was Aurelia—still in that damn dress—and the moment I saw her again, something in my chest clenched.
She turned slightly, eyes catching mine like she'd been waiting for me.
"Car's ready," my father said. "You two go ahead. Your mother and I are riding separately."
My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "You want me to ride with her?"
Dad looked at me like he wasn't in the mood to argue. "Do as I say. Go ahead."
I sighed frustratedly, glancing momentarily at the smug look on Aurelia's face before storming out of the house.
I could hear her heels clicking on the ground behind me.
Angrily pulling the door open before the driver could get it for me, I slid in, trying to contain my rage.
Aurelia slid in daintily from the other side, the next minute.
"You could've gotten the door for me." She said sassily, getting comfortable.
"I'm not your servant." I said bitterly, annoyed at her scent filling up the car.
Vanilla mixed with notes of caramel and amber.
I fucking hated it.
My eyes almost fell out of my sockets as she slid closer to me until her thigh lightly brushed against mine. I couldn't help but notice the way her short dress had ridden so high up, exposing the smooth flesh of her thigh.
Fuck.
"You're too quiet." She spoke cheekily before I could tell her to move away from me.
"I'm trying not to commit murder before a charity event." I deadpanned.
She giggled softly, unbothered and unfazed as always. It was damn frustrating. How she always got under my skin but I never seemed to get under hers.
I stared straight ahead as the car pulled away from the estate.
But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the street, the buildings, my damn breathing... she was right there.
Warmth radiating off her skin. Velvet brushing against my suit. A small, relaxed smile on her perfectly painted red lips like she was enjoying the silence.
It took everything in me not to push her away.
When the hell is this ride going to end?
I felt warm. Too warm, it was becoming hard to breathe.
I had to remind myself not to glance her way, but my eyes kept betraying me. It was hard with the way her supple skin gleamed in the dim light, and with the way a generous portion of her cleavage peeked out of her dress, drawing attention to her big breasts with every breath she took.
I had to stop.
Because if I kept looking at Aurelia Sinclair like that—like I wanted to know what her skin felt like under my hands, what kind of noises she'd make if I kissed her the way I was thinking—I'd be in deep, irreversible trouble.
I almost sighed in relief as the venue came into view, the car pulling in front of the entrance with a big, pretentious red carpet rolled out in the front.
"Behave at the event." I warned Aurelia, adjusting my jacket.
"Oh I will," she smiled confidently. "Question is, will you?"
My jaw clenched, and before I knew it, she had stepped out onto the red carpet. Before me. Like she was the main character.
I got out as well, a frown coating my features as blinding camera flashes surrounded her like she was the star of the event.
She sauntered towards the entrance, soaking in the attention pridefully, each step graceful, confident and calculated.
My traitorous eyes watched her hips as she walked ahead, almost drowning out the camera flashes that now surrounded me.