Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
SINCLAIR
I ’ve been a jumble of nerves since my encounter with August in the library. His brutally honest confessions left me on edge and I still can’t believe he’s taking me on a date. Like he’s what…serious about me?
No way.
Maybe?
Probably not.
He finally reached out Wednesday afternoon and told me to wear something sexy but classy. That was his only guidance. I freaked the hell out because of course I did. I am almost nineteen years old and the last time I wore something that I thought was sexy, he continuously insulted me and made me feel like I dressed like a cheap hooker.
I’m not good with sexy, clearly. Classy I can do. I spent enough time around the other girls at Lancaster Prep that I know classy when I see it. My mother would be no help, because she’s as tacky as they come. God love her.
She would probably love it if she knew I was going on a date with August Lancaster. Not that I’m about to tell her though. She barely contacts me now that I’m gone. I bet she’s relieved she doesn’t have to see me on a daily basis anymore.
My parents are the worst.
It’s Thursday and I just finished my last class so I’m in my dorm room, staring at the boring options in my closet. Elise is sprawled across her bed, hugging her pillow and watching me with pity in her eyes.
“You should wear that red dress again,” she suggests.
“Absolutely not. He hated it.”
“Hated it so much that he basically tore it off your body.” Oh she sounds pleased, and she is. I finally had to confess all to her about August, and she is practically green with envy over my situation. “I have some options.”
Her options won’t work. I already know it. “I guess I could go to the mall.”
Elise sits up. “I could go with you.”
There’s a knock at our door and I go to open it, curious. One of our RAs is standing there with a massive box clutched in her hands. It’s so big, I can’t even see her face until she peers around it. “Oh hey. Exactly the person I was looking for. You have a delivery.”
She holds the box out to me and I take it from her. “Wow. Thanks. I wonder what this is.”
“I have no idea but it says Bergdorf Goodman on it so it must be something expensive.” The RA waves at me and takes off down the hall.
I let the door slam behind me and go to my bed, setting the massive white box on top of it. It does say Bergdorf Goodman on it. I used to go shopping there with my mom when I was in high school and my parents had just run into their fortune. Not that I got anything for myself. More like I tagged along and watched her spend a bunch of money.
“Who’s it from?” Elise asks.
“I don’t know.” But I have my suspicions .
“Open it up and find out.”
Carefully I open the box, pulling the lid off the top to see an envelope with my name on it lying on a bed of white tissue. I open the envelope to find a thick white card inside it.
Wear this tonight.
A
“It’s from August.” I glance over at Elise who is watching me carefully. “He said I can wear whatever’s in here on our date.”
“Oh my God, well let’s see what it is!” Elise practically squeals.
I push away the layers of tissue to discover a pale blue box inside, Prada written on top of it. I take off the lid to discover even more tissue. I pull the garment out, holding my breath as I examine it.
The sheath dress is sleeveless, with a deep V neckline in the front, and it’s constructed entirely of beige sequins. It’s sheer, almost see-through and I take the dress to the full-length mirror, holding it up in front of me.
“It’s beautiful,” Elise breathes as she comes to stand behind me.
“You can probably see through it.” What in the world do I wear underneath this?
“Sexy but classy.” She’s smiling. “He has good taste.”
“He has a lot of money,” I correct.
“Just because someone has money doesn’t mean they have taste.”
True. Dang it.
“There’s more in the box,” Elise reminds me.
August thought of everything. There’s not only the dress, but he also included a pair of the sheerest black tights I’ve ever seen, a pair of black Prada peep toe heels with delicate straps that wrap around the ankle, and a black Prada bag covered completely in crystals, but no undergarments. Which has me stressed the most.
What do I wear beneath this thing?
My phone buzzes with a notification and I check it to see I have a text from him.
August: I see my gift arrived .
Me: Everything is beautiful, thank you! But what do I wear underneath it?
August: Wear only what’s in the box, Sin.
My skin warms. I can hear him say those words and they seem to vibrate just beneath my skin.
Me: But there isn’t a bra or panties. And the dress is so sheer!
August: Trust me. I spoke to a sales associate. She has exquisite taste and told me you’ll look stunning.
Trust him. I can’t trust him. He’s horrible most of the time. I think he enjoys making me squirm. Humiliating me. And there’s a small part of me that enjoys it too.
Me: If you say so.
“I’m supposed to wear this without any underwear.” I drop the sequined dress onto my bed. “I’ll look like a slut.”
“Oh, you will not.” Elise grabs the dress and holds it up practically to her face. “It’s not that sheer. It’ll probably give the illusion that you’re naked underneath it.”
“And I’m supposed to wear the black tights beneath it? That’ll look stupid.” He’s setting me up, I swear.
“It won’t. You’re going to look like a goddess. He’ll swallow his tongue the moment he sees you.”
“He better not. I happen to like his tongue a lot,” I retort, making Elise laugh.
I start laughing too. This is the most surreal experience of my life and I should just go with it, but it’s hard. Especially when I don’t necessarily trust the man who’s going to take me on a date tonight.
There’s another knock on the door and I answer it to find our RA standing there with yet another box. “For you.”
I tear into it the moment she’s gone, a gasp leaving me when I pull out a heavy faux fur coat in the most beautiful golden-brown color. “It’s so soft.”
“You’re going to look like a mafia wife with that coat,” Elise says with a smile as I shrug it on and admire myself in the mirror. “I love it.”
Another text from August comes through as I’m shrugging out of the coat.
August: It’s going to be cold tonight. Thought I would send something to keep you warm.
Me: Thank you. It’s beautiful.
He doesn’t respond but it’s fine. My heart is giddy. If he’s trying to impress me?
It’s working.
A hired car and driver arrive promptly at six to pick me up. Once I’m in the car—I folded myself in carefully, terrified I’d rip the dress or my tights—I’m a bundle of nerves, curious as to where we’re going. Even more curious as to August’s whereabouts. He’s definitely not in this car and the driver isn’t talking. I decide to send August a text.
Me: Where are you?
He responds quickly.
August: Waiting for you.
Me: That’s nice, but where?
August: You’ll find out soon.
Ugh, I hate surprises. I’m not a spontaneous person and I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. Leaves me on edge and I hate being on edge.
We end up at a small airport about fifteen minutes away from campus. The driver pulls up practically on the tarmac and I see a helicopter sitting beside us with the doors wide open. The driver gets out of the car, but someone else opens my door. The driver can’t move that fast. When I glance up, I see it’s August standing there, his gaze roving over me almost hungrily. He’s wearing black dress pants and a white button-down that’s open at the collar, showing off the strong column of his neck and oh my God, he looks gorgeous.
“There you are,” he practically growls, impatient as always. “You took forever.”
“The driver was kind of slow,” I tell him as I take his hand and let him pull me out of the car. The moment I’m standing upright, I’m smoothing down the front of my dress, unbearably self-conscious. I am wearing everything just as he asked, the dark nylons showing underneath the beige sequined dress.
I was so worried how my outfit was supposed to come together cohesively that I went on the internet and looked up the dress to find I’m wearing it exactly how it’s shown on the Prada website, which is reassuring. I also discovered the dress cost over six thousand dollars and while yes, I come from a wealthy family, no one I know spends approximately ten grand or more on their date’s outfit. Like we barely know each other and he’s dropping that much money on me?
Not going to lie, I sort of love it.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He says it like a curse. Like he can’t stand the thought that he finds me attractive and all I can do is smile at him. His obvious pain over his conflicting emotions gives me strength. It’s the karma he deserves for being such an asshole to me when I was an awkward freshman.
“Thank you.” I practically preen as he continues to take me in. I feel like a princess. No man has ever treated me like this. I’m already impressed and the date has hardly started. “I love the bag.”
I hold up the tiny bag that’s completely covered with jet black crystals. I can barely fit my phone in there and a lipstick. That’s it.
“You’re a fan of Prada?”
“I’ve never owned anything Prada,” I admit. I’ve never worn a lot of designer brands because it makes me think of my mother, who will go out in public decked in Fendi or whatever brand she’s currently obsessed with from head to toe. She makes sure everyone knows she’s wealthy, thanks to the obvious designer logos all over her clothing.
“The dress is stunning on you.” His expression, his gaze are both gravely serious. He can’t tear his eyes off me. “Are you ready to go?”
“Where are we going?” My skin is already warm from his compliments, but the moment he rests his hand on the small of my back, I’m practically on fire for him.
“You’ll see.” He smiles and I’m breathless for a moment, overcome with how handsome he truly is. His hair is neat and his face is smooth. His entire demeanor reeks of class and wealth, and I hope I can match his energy. “We’re taking my father’s helicopter to our destination.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard. “Wow.”
I’ve never been in a helicopter before. And what’s that like, having a helicopter to use whenever you want? The Lancasters are insanely rich and have been for generations. My parents, on the other hand, are new money and so obvious with it.
All hopes of being able to match his classy energy fly right out the window.
August leads me over to the helicopter and helps me inside, his hand resting on my ass momentarily as he gives me a boost. I settle into one of the seats and he takes the other one, handing over a headset for me to wear before he puts on his own. Within minutes, we’re in the air, the pilot pointing out landmarks as we fly through the darkness.
I feel like Cinderella and August is my Prince Charming. Sweeping me off my feet and spoiling me. There isn’t any sign of the August I’m used to dealing with. He doesn’t seem exasperated with me at all. In fact, he seems rather muted, and while I appreciate everything that he’s already done for me tonight, I can’t help but wonder if he’s purposely trying to be a gentleman to…what? Impress me?
He got me to go on this date by being his usual rude self. He doesn’t need to change.
I can tell we’re getting closer to the city because the lights get brighter and there are more of them. Soon enough we’re flying directly over New York City and within minutes, we’re landing on a helipad on top of a skyscraper. We exit the helicopter, the wind whipping my hair across my face, making me squeal. August takes my hand and leads me away from the helicopter, the two of us practically running, and only when we’re inside and waiting for the elevator to come, do I catch my breath.
“That was fun,” I tell him with a faint smile.
“Really? You enjoyed the helicopter ride?” He sends me a sideways glance, his gaze dipping to my chest. Lingering there.
“It was my first time in one,” I admit.
A smirk appears, the sight of it reassuring me. “You’ve been experiencing lots of firsts.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He leads me inside and I turn to look at him, only speaking once the doors close. “So have you.”
He frowns. “Like what?”
“Going on a date.” My smile grows. “With me.”
Another one of those growls leaves him and he grabs hold of me, his hands on my hips, his body pressed close. He’s so hot, practically scorching my skin when he curls his fingers around my chin and tips my face up. We stare at each other for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes, my brain filled with all sorts of dirty thoughts. How long will we be in this elevator anyway and what exactly could we do in here?
“You must know I don’t date just anyone.” He makes a face of utter disgust and I almost laugh. “I don’t date at all.”
“I know.”
“I’m making an exception for you.” He skims his thumb across my chin, drifting it upward until he’s pressing it into the corner of my mouth. His voice lowers to a deep rumble. “God, your mouth is the stuff of fantasies.”
I ignore the compliment—is it a compliment? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. “Why am I the exception?”
The elevator lands with a soft thud and the doors slide open. He doesn’t answer my question, which frustrates me. He takes my hand once more and leads me out of the elevator and across the expansive lobby of the building, heading for the front doors. I tip my head back to examine the light fixtures hanging above us, impressed with their beauty. Everything in this building is stunning. Perfect. A little too sterile for my tastes, but I can still appreciate it.
We walk outside into the brisk late October air and August ushers me into the back seat of a waiting car, climbing in after me, the driver shutting the door. Once we’re inside I glance over at August, dying to know his answer.
“You never acknowledged my question.”
He adjusts his shirt sleeve, toying with the cufflink. “What question?”
Oh that bored tone of his should make me mad but like the fool that I am, I find it sexy. “I asked you why I was the exception.”
“Exception to what?”
It’s my turn to growl. God, he’s frustrating. “You never dated anyone—until me. I am the exception. You just said that and I want to know why. What made you change your mind?”
His gaze sinks into mine, both of us quiet, the air in the car charged with that familiar energy that always seems to grow between us when we’re together. I lean into him, my body swaying as if I have no control, and his gaze finally drops, landing on my chest, sliding lower. My entire body reacts, gooseflesh rising as if he physically touched me and he leans back into his seat with a ragged exhale. The spell broken, just like that.
“That’s why,” he murmurs and he doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t need to explain it because I feel the same exact way.