Chapter 19
I waited up for hours to thank Rio and talk about the clothes he sent, but he got back after I’d fallen asleep reading a book Luis gave me to read before the next book club he and Ava hold.
Who would have thought Rio’s dad reads romance?
It’s a pretty good one, too, about a woman who lives in a vampire world, but isn’t one. I identify with this girl. And the sex scenes were pretty hot, too, though when I slipped my fingers under the covers, it wasn’t the vampire hero I was thinking about. It was Rio.
I’m walking a fine line.
I wake up still wanting to ask him about the dresses, what I should keep, and of course, thank him, but he’s already gone when I head downstairs, leaving a note to say he’s gone to the stables.
For some reason, it stings that he doesn’t ask me along. I tell myself it shouldn’t be because, why would he? Plus, if I want the man to stop stirring inconvenient butterflies up in my stomach, I should keep him at a distance.
So far, though, it hasn’t helped that he’s been a ghost for the past three days. I’ve thought a million times about that vow. About the way he held my hand with that promise in his fingertips.
When my mind drifts away from those bigger questions, it heads toward ones still concerning him. Which dress does he like best? What is he wearing to the party?
He has been a constant in my mind despite his absence.
The party’s at two today, which at least gives me the morning to get ready with him gone. And thank God for that, because I’m completely stuck on what to wear.
The dresses are spread across my bed, and every one of them seems right.
By the time Rio came home last night, I’d tried them all on, and they fit me like a glove. In them, I’m the princess he keeps calling me—a dark one.
I did email Rio this morning before I took the tags off anything. I asked him what he thought I should keep, and he didn’t even hesitate–
Everything, if you want it.
The collection is worth tens of thousands, maybe over a hundred. And there aren’t just several dresses. He bought me corset tops, jeans, high heels and even a pair of high top sneakers. Surely, I don’t need any of those things for the party.
But in a moment of logic—maybe girl math—I figured this was an investment in keeping me on par with the type of woman he might date. Plus, it’s just more insurance for my new life. I hate the thought of selling any of it, but I could.
What am I going to wear tonight?
The party’s at an intimate venue further up in the mountains. That means leaving the protected walls of Monarch Hills.
I haven’t minded being a prisoner here entirely. The bars have kept me in, but they kept the danger out, too.
Out there, there’s nothing between me and whatever my father decides to send my way. No gates. No walls. Just open space and a venue without guards who check ID.
I can’t stay here forever.
The thought stutters in my head. No, I can’t stay here forever. And I don’t want to.
Right?
I shouldn’t want to anyway. Rio will want me gone. Luther will come for him at some point, and I can’t be here.
The thought makes me queasy. What will Rio do with Luther?
I shake my head of it and turn back to the bed.
I don’t even have Tina to help me because one of the stable hands is pet-sitting for this party. She’s already there now.
The dresses stare back at me, and finally, one of them wins.
Off-shoulder. Black satin. It’s most definitely sexy, but it’s also structured, corseted, displaying a sense of control. The contrast I am. I don’t mind showing a soft spot here and there, but I keep the important stuff fiercely protected.
I step into it and choose the high, platform shoes that go with it. I strap them on, thinking about how even in these bad boys, I won’t be as tall as Rio. I wonder what he’ll look like? Will he be full-on classic tux? Bow tie and all?
I finally finish buckling the strap and stand to inspect myself in the mirror.
“Jesus,” I murmur under my breath.
I don’t look like the version of me Dad created anymore.
Not his daughter. Not his.
I look—
A knock cuts through the thought.
Rio.
My spine straightens instantly, and butterflies flood my stomach.
I give myself half a second—just enough to smooth my hands down the dress, to make sure everything sits exactly where it should—then I cross the room and pull the door open.
Rio stands there in a tux. And it’s not just any tux.
Black jacket cut close to his shoulders, with a black floral embroidery stitched on the lapels. It fits tightly along his every line, tapering into a perfect V. The white shirt is crisp against his tanned skin, his bowtie wraps neatly around his thick, muscular neck.
The man in front of me steals my breath. He’s dressed like he’s walking into a room where everyone else is playing nice—and he doesn’t have to. He’s like a dark prince out of some fantasy book. A character I’m no longer sure is here to rescue me or to draw me into a more dangerous world.
He’s never looked at me like this before.
His gaze trails over my body, inch by inch. He doesn’t even try to hide that he likes what he sees.
The flicker of nerves in my chest blooms into a full-on explosion.
“So–” I straighten my arms by my side, not sure what to do with them. “Do I pass inspection?”
Somehow he touches me without even laying a hand on me. Goosebumps rise along my skin.
When our eyes meet again, his have changed—darker, hungrier, possessive.
“You like?” I need him to say something before I melt into a puddle.
His jaw tics. “That dress is going to be a problem.”
By the look in his eyes, it’s a problem because he wants to tear it off me with his teeth.
I place my hand on my stomach, hoping it will calm the butterflies. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He holds out his hand for me to take. “Stay close to me tonight.”
Why is he offering his hand? Why does he want me to stay close?
Has he been thinking about me all day, too?
I take his hand and figure it’s the gentleman thing to do, seeing as my heels must be nearly five inches tall, maybe more with the platforms.
I hold Rio’s hand all the way down the stairs, through the house, and out onto the porch, and then I realize why us leaving the house hand in hand was essential.
Parked outside Rio’s house is a large luxury bus, black and gleaming, the door sliding open before we even reach it. We must be travelling there with his family.
Music flows from the open door—loud, bright, alive. Laughter spills out of it, someone shouting something I don’t quite catch.
Rio’s hand shifts to the small of my back as he helps me up the step, my fingers still curled around his, and the contact has electricity coursing through my veins. I’m not used to this kind of treatment. I’m not used to being touched like this. With care. Like I’m precious.
The bus is the type of thing you’d take to a bachelorette party. Leather seating lines the sides and back. It’s all elegantly backlit.
Everyone, apart from Enzo and Ava, is here.
Luis is halfway through a story with Owen and Luis, Santi and Kat’s boys on one side.
Santi leans back with a drink in one hand, his arm draped loosely around Kat.
Gabriel and Lara take up the long back seat; she has her legs over his lap with his jacket draped over them like a blanket.
And Anton and Freya appear to be engaged in a deep conversation.
She’s the most stunning pregnant woman I’ve ever seen.
She’s so beautiful and glowing that it almost takes my fear of having children right out of me.
The whole thing feels loud, but easy, chaotic, yes, but not like a storm, like fire crackling, warm and alive.
“About time,” Luis stands and grabs a bottle of champagne. “Something to drink?” He asks, lifting the bottle.
I slide into the nearest open space on the bench, smoothing the dress down over my thighs, though it doesn’t cover much skin. I didn’t think that through.
Rio sits down next to me. His steely thigh presses firmly against my bare skin.
The contact makes my heart jump.
I go still for a second, aware of it in a way that’s inexperienced, almost naive. There’s fabric between us, for God’s sake.
That I’m on fire only highlights how little experience I have.
I wasn’t “allowed” a boyfriend, so there were a couple of boys in high school, stolen kisses under the bleachers my dad could never know about.
Apart from the patched guy who disappeared after I gave him my virginity in a backyard— I’ve had nothing but a handful of rushed encounters that never meant anything and never lasted long enough to matter.
I kissed. I had sex once. And that was more mechanical than anything.
I’ve never held hands down the street with someone or cuddled them or anything that felt like… this.
Rio wraps his arm around me and pulls me snugly into the crook of his arm.
Now I’m supposed to pretend to be the girlfriend of a man who definitely knows what he’s doing. He must have had a thousand women.
I glance up, taking in his handsome profile, his cut jawline.
Who wouldn’t want this man?
Rio relaxes into our space further, his fingers falling lazily onto my bicep. His touch is hot. Or maybe it’s my skin that’s on fire.
I take up Luis on his offer. “A shot of tequila would be great.”
Maybe that will ease the tightness in my chest, my dry throat. Maybe it will cool the heat building between my thighs from being so close to Rio.
Luis pours a shot just as the bus lurches forward, but he manages not to spill. This isn’t his first rodeo.
In fact, nothing about this family feels calculated or careful. No one is watching themselves. No one is performing. It’s just… happening.
I’ve never seen anything like this apart from on sitcoms. And I certainly never dared to be part of a scene like this. Not even under pretenses.
I take the shot Luis hands me, the glass cool against my fingers, and knock it back. The burn hits fast, sharp down my throat, blooming warm in my chest.
“You ever had the good stuff?” Santi asks with a grin.