Chapter 7 #2
Vivienne’s smile warmed by several degrees. “Excellent choices. I’ll set up a suite on the fourth floor. The lighting is much better for appreciating colors.”
“I don’t need three gowns,” Ava whispered as they followed Vivienne to a private elevator.
Victor’s hand settled at the small of her back. “The retreat has multiple events. Cocktails, activities, the gala.” He leaned closer, breath stirring her hair. “Besides, watching Lilith’s face when you walk in will be worth every penny.”
The suite was larger than Ava’s apartment. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors multiplied them into infinity. A crystal chandelier threw rainbows across cream walls. Champagne waited in a silver bucket, though it was barely noon.
“Shall we start with the blue?” Vivienne suggested.
Behind a carved screen, she helped Ava into the dress: hidden zipper sliding up her spine, silk adjusted across shoulders. The fabric felt like being wrapped in moonlight.
“Perfect,” Vivienne murmured. “The color brings out your eyes. Let’s show him.”
Before Ava could lose her nerve, she stepped out from behind the screen.
Victor looked up from his champagne. His glass stopped halfway to his lips.
His eyes traveled slowly: hem to waist to neckline to face. The dress fit like it had been sewn onto her body. Deep V neckline just daring enough. The way it nipped at her waist before flowing to the floor.
“Turn for me.”
She did a slow spin, hyperaware of how the silk moved against her skin. When she faced him again, Victor had set down his glass. He crossed to her in three strides.
“We’ll take it,” he told Vivienne without looking away from Ava’s face.
The burgundy was different. Shorter, hitting above her knees. Long sleeves that made it more provocative, not less. The color made her skin glow.
“That one too.”
The champagne dress was last. Beading that caught every bit of light and scattered it like stars. The fitted bodice showed curves she usually hid under blazers and pencil skirts.
Victor stood when she emerged. Said nothing, his expression caught between want and restraint.
“All three,” he told Vivienne. “And shoes to match.”
“It’s too much,” Ava said.
“The firm is paying. Mandatory attendance.” He moved closer, adjusting the shoulder strap with careful fingers. The touch sent heat racing down her spine. “Besides, the retreat is us going to war. You need every advantage.”
“Expensive clothes are an advantage?”
“Confidence is.” His hand moved to her waist, steadying her in the sample heels. “And you look…”
“Ridiculous?”
“Dangerous.”
“I’m mostly harmless,” she said.
“Mostly?”
She looked up at him. Met those dark eyes, catching the light wrong, something inhuman flickering behind them.
“Kiss me.”
“Ava…”
“We’re sharing a bed in three days. If we can’t kiss in a fitting room, we’re doomed.”
“It’s about control.” His hand was still on her waist, thumb brushing the beading. “I feel it slipping whenever we’re together.”
Heat rushed through her. “Maybe that’s not so bad.”
“Last time I let it slip, you fled to the guest room.”
“Last time we had no rules.” She turned to face him fully, the dress rustling. “Practice kiss. Sixty seconds. No hands below the waist.”
Victor’s mouth twitched. “You’ve thought about this.”
“I’ve thought about a lot of things.”
His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “For practice.”
The kiss started soft. Controlled.
She pressed closer, hands sliding to his shoulders. Victor made a sound low in his throat and deepened the kiss, tongue tracing her lips until she opened for him. His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him.
Her mark burned. His other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head, and she forgot about rules and boundaries and the fact that Vivienne could return at any moment.
Forgot about Lilith and Peterson Holdings and the retreat.
There was only this—his mouth, his hands, the desperate wanting that had been building for days.
A sharp bark from the hallway. Someone’s purse dog expressing displeasure.
Victor pulled back, breathing hard. His usually perfect hair was mussed where her fingers had threaded through it.
“That was…”
“More than sixty seconds.”
“Your hand almost went below my waist.”
“I know.”
“We’re terrible at rules.”
“I know.” He stepped back, putting necessary distance between them. “Get changed. We still need shoes.”
They finished shopping in a haze: casual wear for “team building,” pajamas she tried not to think about Victor seeing her in. The boxes and bags filled the town car’s trunk.
Ava watched the city pass outside the window. She now owned more designer clothing than she’d seen in her entire life. And somewhere in the contracts binding her parents’ restaurant, Lilith’s name was probably written in fine print.
Derek intercepted them in the lobby.
“Conference Room Three. Now.”
Victor frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Lilith.” Derek glanced around, lowered his voice. “She just convinced the partners to implement new protocols for the retreat.”
The conference room’s afternoon light cast long shadows that seemed to move independently. Derek pulled up his tablet while Victor paced.
“She reminded them about liability issues. If a claimed human gets hurt at a firm event, the demon who claimed them is responsible. Unless…” Derek hesitated. “Unless the claim is fraudulent. Then the firm’s liable.”
“Malphas would hate that,” Victor said.
“Exactly. So now all couples need to provide ‘verification’ at the retreat.” Derek shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two and Lilith, but she’s determined to make this hell for you both.”
“We can handle Lilith.” Victor stopped pacing. “Derek, book Le Bernardin for tomorrow night. Make sure word gets to Lilith that I’m taking Ava there.”
“Le Bernardin?” Derek’s eyes widened. “But you never… Oh. OH. That’s big.”
“She’ll know what it means.”
Derek glanced between them, clearly wanting to ask more, but nodded and left.
Alone, Ava turned to Victor. “Verification?”
“She’s looking for proof we’re fake.” He moved to the window. “She can’t accept that this is real.”
“But it’s not…”
“Isn’t it?” He turned back, his expression stripped of its usual control. “Tell me you don’t feel something when we kiss. Tell me your pulse doesn’t race when I touch you.”
She couldn’t deny any of it.
“Three days,” Victor said, crossing to her. “We have three days before that retreat.”
“Three days for what?”
“To stop pretending this is pretend.” His hand found hers. “I meant what I said at Mia’s. Every word.”
“Victor…”
“The question is whether you can admit you feel it too.” His thumb traced her knuckles.
She stood there, his hand warm in hers. This was insane. He was her boss. A demon. Someone whose world could swallow hers whole.
But when she closed her eyes, she could still feel his mouth on hers. Could still hear him saying every word. Could still see the look on his face in the fitting room.
“This is insane.”
“This is us.” He pulled her closer. “No pretense. No arrangement. Just you and me.”
Her heart hammered. Too fast, too complicated, too dangerous.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. I want to try this for real.” She took a breath. “But if you’re serious about me, you need to meet my parents. Tomorrow night.”
“I’ve been put to the question by the Barons of Hell. I think I can handle dinner.”
“Have you ever met a Chinese mother who wants grandchildren?”
That gave him pause. “Perhaps we should practice.”
“Too late.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m texting them before I lose my nerve.”
“What are you saying?”
“That I’m bringing my boyfriend to dinner.” She hit send. “There. No backing out.”
Her phone exploded. Seventeen question marks from her mother, followed by rapid Mandarin voice messages. Her father sent a thumbs-up and a dumpling emoji.
“Your mother seems excited,” Victor observed.
“She’s probably already planning the wedding.”
“I respect her enthusiasm.” He checked his watch. “What should I wear?”
“Not a ten-thousand-dollar suit.”
“I have other suits.”
“Less expensive ones?”
“Define less expensive.”
She laughed, and for a moment everything else faded: Lilith’s machinations, Peterson Holdings, the retreat, all of it. Just this. Just them.
“Tomorrow night,” she said. “Seven o’clock. Feng’s Kitchen on Northern Boulevard.”
“I’ll be there.” He headed for the door, then paused. “The dresses… you look stunning in them.”
“I thought you said dangerous.”
“That was implied.” His gaze held hers. “Wear the blue to the gala. I want everyone to see what I saw today.”
Then he was gone.
Ava stood alone with her shopping bags, the word boyfriend still echoing in the text she’d sent.
Three days until the retreat.
Two weeks since she’d started at the firm.
One dinner with her parents that might finally make this real.
The pendant hummed faintly against her skin, a low thrum like a tuning fork struck and held.
She was ready to find out which way it would go.