Chapter 31 （continuation） #2
Nodding, they hand me another dress, and I take it back into the room.
The next dress I try is navy blue and it’s just as sexy as the black number. It doesn’t feel like The Dress, though. The third one doesn’t fit, the fourth is black and see through. I don’t think I’m confident enough to wear a see through dress. That’s never going to happen.
The fifth dress is what wows me the most. It’s sexy and edgy and still makes me feel comfortable enough that I don’t feel I’m trying too hard.
I end up buying it, and the first black dress I tried on. Hey, I might not be going on a honeymoon anytime soon, but I can still enjoy the dress.
The night of the gala, I get ready in my room, which doesn’t even feel like my room anymore.
Should I be worried we’re moving too fast?
No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop this nagging feeling in the center of my chest. It’s a persistent reminder that nothing will be alright until I talk to my family.
I’ve always been the kind of person who can’t leave anything unfinished. I prioritize my tasks at the start of my day, and I only leave once they are complete. This hanging death knell of my family over me is never going to go away until I confront them.
With a sigh, I grab my phone and connect it to the Bluetooth speaker.
The only way to shut off my brain is to play Bad Bunny at the loudest possible volume.
Loud enough to drown the noise inside my head, but not so loud that I can’t hear anything for the rest of the night.
Because I fully plan on hearing all the praise being lauded on my boyfriend.
The dress is slinky black, the material thin with dark green velvet leaves sewn over it, which shimmer gold and brown depending on how the light catches them.
I keep my make-up light, but go for a slightly sultry eye look to add some dimension to my face.
Removing my hair from the rollers, I pull the front parts back and pin them using small butterfly shaped clips.
After a spritz of my favorite perfume, I walk out of the room and come to a halt.
Killian is standing in the living room, but what makes me pause is the way he’s dressed.
In a tailored black suit paired with a black shirt which he’s left mostly unbuttoned.
He looks polished enough to fit in among the guests tonight, and dangerous enough that they’d want to avoid him.
I’ve never met anyone so ruggedly masculine, and I feel a surge of possessiveness and jealousy at the thought that other women will get to see him like this. I’m walking across the room before Killian even realizes what I’m about to do. I fist his open shirt and pull him down until our mouths meet.
I kiss him hungrily, my sandals clattering to the floor as I wrap my other arm around his neck and thrust my hand into his hair. Killian is surprised for a brief second before he wraps his arm around my waist and yanks me into him, lifting me up until my feet dangle off the floor.
Our tongues tangle together, fighting for dominance. I suck the tip of his tongue into my mouth, making him moan. His hand cups my breast, the metal of his rings cool against my heated skin. He pinches my hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
I moan, my teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
“Butterfly,” Killian groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Me? What about you?”
Killian licks his lips, his eyes raking over my body. “I’m not the one who looks like I’m going to have some rich old man divorce his current wife to chase the young vixen.”
I fluff my hair. “I look like a vixen?”
“You know exactly what you look like.”
Taking a step back, I give him a twirl. The dress plunges down in the back, just like it does in the front. A lot of body tape is holding it together and stopping me from making a fashion faux pas.
“Listen, if some rich man offers to take you on vacation to the south of France, tell him to fuck off,” Killian says.
Bending down, he straightens my sandals and reaches for my feet to slide them on.
“I already have a rich man, and I’m pretty sure you’ll spontaneously combust if I asked you to take me to the south of France,” I say with a laugh.
Killian glances up. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, butterfly. You just have to ask.”
I have to remind myself that he doesn’t mean California. I don’t want to dampen our mood tonight, but I really have to talk to him about that.
Straightening up, Killian runs a hand through his hair. I’m not sure what he’s trying to do, but it pretty much has the effect of making him look sexier.
“Ready to go?”
I nod, picking up my wrap from the chair and wrapping it around myself. Killian holds my clutch and watches me as I adjust my hair one last time. Forever thankful for smudge proof lipstick because it didn’t move an inch even after that kiss.
“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” I say as we leave the apartment. “I’ve been to hundreds of these.”
“It’s the same crowd, just different cities,” Killian agrees. “The same, boring conversations about investments, vacation properties, and affairs.”
“You really hate these people, don’t you?” I ask.
We step into the elevator and he takes us to the parking level.
“Not all of them,” he says. “Some of them are like Gran, they’re nice. They actually appreciate people and art. Most of them are as vapid as you’d expect. About ninety-nine percent of them are vampires sucking you dry of money and energy.”
The elevator opens and we walk out into the garage. Killian leads me to his fancy sports car.
Getting into a low sports car in heels and a dress is no easy feat, but I manage. Once I’m seated, Killian walks around and gets in. With a push of a button, the car purrs to life under us.
“Why are we going if you hate these people?” I ask.
Killian navigates through the streets easily, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other holding mine. Sometimes it feels surreal, the way he leans in for these casual touches.
“Like I said, it’s a great networking opportunity for you,” he says. “The other reason is, my agent is constantly reminding me these people do buy my art and I do donate fifty percent of my earnings. I can still donate if I have no clients buying my work, but that amount will be less.”
“So, to be very cliche, you have to dance with the devil,” I say.
“Exactly.”
His outlook is very different from our upbringing.
Our families are about showing up and showing out, making sure they are the talk of the town after any event.
Killian would rather do anything else than attend tonight.
Not to mention he said it’s a great networking opportunity for me.
My career has never been important for anyone.
Not my parents, and especially not Beckett.
To think that part of the reason Killian agreed to attend tonight is for me fills my heart with gratitude.
I almost open my mouth and tell him I’m in love with him. But that’s not the kind of thing you say in the middle of a car ride to a fancy event. Actually, I’m not sure when it should be said. What if he doesn’t say it back? I mean, I know he wants me. What if he doesn’t say the words?
“What are you thinking?” Killian asks, squeezing my hand.
“Nothing.”
He glances at me, an eyebrow raised. “I know better than that. You’re an overthinker to the core.”
“I’m not!”
“Your face says differently,” he scoffs.
“No, it doesn’t,” I say. I pout, looking away.
Killian laughs lightly, and the warm sound fills the car. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Even after all the sex we’ve had, it’s the easy things which surprise me the most. We hold hands walking down the street.
Killian makes us coffee each morning. He sends me texts throughout the day to remind me to drink water or eat a snack, step away from the office even if it’s only for a few minutes.
Last night he brought me flowers just because.
It all leaves me a little breathless each time. Perhaps because it’s the first time I’ve felt like an equal in a relationship. The first time my happiness and well being has mattered to someone.
Then why the fuck I can’t let go of this tight ball of anxiety?