Chapter 15 #2
It’s finally here. The Las Vegas Summertime Ball.
The event that everyone seems to be waiting for.
Even though I have no idea how prestigious it really is or what all the hype is about, I’m feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement.
There’s no commandos on duty tonight. I know I’m going to have Lottie and Tara there to hold my hand, and of course Denham.
But I can’t help thinking that I’m going to be on display as the girl who is on the arm of Denham King.
In the last two weeks I’ve been witness to the effect he has on women.
Old and young. It seems he was quite the eligible bachelor.
He was seeing Amy, but their ‘thing’ was never exclusive and she never managed to make him hers.
Beyond her, I don’t know if he played the field or not.
Morbid curiosity is bubbling beneath the surface and makes me want to know every little detail, so I’m prepared for anything that can be thrown at me.
The logical part of my brain, however, tells me that what I don’t know won’t hurt me.
And this is the one I’m running with right now.
Denham will be my prince charming. My knight in shining armor.
Untainted by gossip and small talk from his past, because after all, this is who he is now.
I can hardly say the same. I feel like a hypocrite as my past is tainting our future and he’s taking it all in his stride and making it his job to deal with it for me.
“You’re thinking hard, Stunner.” Denham comes into the bathroom and stands behind me.
I have my hands braced against the marble countertop, admiring the amazing job that the salon girls have done with my hair and makeup.
My hair has been pinned in ornate curls and twists, high on top of my head, with just a few tendrils left out, coiled perfectly, just ready for Denham to twist his fingers in.
“No,” I say unconvincingly, and he looks at me pointedly. “Okay,” I giggle. “Just a little bit.”
He places his hands either side of mine and leans in so his front is pressed against my back. He rests his chin on my shoulder and looks at me in the mirror as he talks. “Wanna tell me about it?”
“No, it’s fine. Just my crazy mind wandering aimlessly.”
“You look beautiful,” he says, kissing the spot where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say. “But I’m not even dressed yet.”
He pulls back and feigns shock, “What? You mean you’re not going dressed in that fabulous white robe?”
I turn to swat him on the shoulder, and he grabs my hands in his and pulls me into his chest. His eyes slide from my face, down my neck and then he tries his hardest to see down my robe, which is pulled tightly around me, specifically so he can’t see.
I’ve chosen the backless, halter neck, one piece especially for tonight.
It won’t show lines or creases, and I hope it’s going to drive him crazy.
But I don’t want him to see it just yet, I want to tease him with it and make him peel it off me tonight.
“Stop trying to peek.”
“Give me a preview,” he suggests.
“No! You’ll have to wait.”
“We have at least ten minutes to spare …”
“There is no such thing as spare time when a girl has to get ready for a ball, and besides, you’re not even dressed in your suit yet. You’re still in your work clothes,” I state, running my hands down his chest across his crisp white, button-down shirt.
“It takes me ten minutes flat to shower and dress. That still gives me ten minutes to spare.”
“Well, then you can take a little longer to get ready as this girl needs to get a move on.”
I move to his side, thinking if one of us doesn’t make a break for it, then we will be here longer than the spare ten minutes, and we’d be super late to the ball.
“Stunner,” Denham says quietly, holding on to my elbow to prevent me going anywhere just yet.
“Yes,” I smile up at him.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
Those few little words, buries him a little deeper into my heart. He knows I felt a little awkward about this evening, and I’m probably not as excited as I should be about it. Definitely not as excited as Lottie is. But I wanted to do it for him.
“You’re welcome,” I say quietly, before he kisses my lips and starts to unbutton his shirt to hop in the shower.
I contemplate standing here and watching him undress. On any other occasion I would stand here and watch him undress. It never gets old. My fingers always twitch to feel his skin. But I have things to do.
I move around the bedroom, making finishing touches and getting everything laid out ready to put on.
I make the most of the soft carpet underfoot, as it’s going to be a long night standing and dancing in my heels.
I haven’t tried on the dress or even taken it out of the dress bag since the day in the store.
Which is silly, I should have at least checked it, but it didn’t even cross my mind.
I haven’t decided what jewelry to wear with it, and I don’t have a huge choice, but the dress itself is fairly sparkly, so I only need something simple.
I slide back the mirrored wardrobe doors, take the dress bag off the rail and laugh to myself that Denham has hung his tux next to it. In the short week that I’ve been staying here we move around the apartment like it’s always been the two of us. It’s so easy. Always has been this way.
I lay the bag on the bed and slide the zip from the top to the bottom.
My heart skips a beat when the first flash of color I get is a silvery gray.
My dress is black. I start to panic as ridiculous scenarios run through my head.
Did the shop assistant give me the wrong dress?
Is this one even going to fit me? What if it was someone else’s dress in Denham’s closet and I’m really just a stupid, naive girl?
I push that thought away because I know it’s not true, and then I feel extra stupid for even thinking it.
So I calm the racing thoughts and slip the dress out of the bag and hold it up full length in front of me.
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
It’s Rocara. It’s stunning. It’s … my design.
“What do you think?” Denham asks from the bathroom doorway.
I turn to face him, and he walks toward me slowly with his towel wrapped around his waist and tucked at the side like he always does. He’s freshly shaven, and his skin is still dewy from the shower.
“How?”
“I had to pull a few strings, but …” He shrugs.
My dress. My design. Rocara have brought my design to life. Rocara!
I fling the dress on the bed and close the short distance between us with a run.
My arms fly up around his neck, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I find his mouth instantly with mine and kiss him with everything I have.
I don’t even care if we are late. I want him to feel how I feel.
No one has ever done anything like this for me, ever.
It’s the most thoughtful, if extravagant, gesture and I still can’t believe that it’s my dress, with a Rocara label.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I say against his lips. “I love it. I love y—” His lips press against mine harder, cutting me off before he pulls away and grins at me.
“You just told me how you feel with your lips, Stunner. No need to use words.”
I nod and grin. God, I grin so huge I think I look like the Cheshire cat.
The fact that I almost just told him I love him doesn’t escape me, but it doesn’t faze me either.
Maybe it should, or maybe I’m just accepting everything for what it is and embracing it.
I know time is limited. I know I’m living on a knife-edge and something will have to give soon, but it gives me more determination to make every minute count.
Denham loosens his grip around my waist and I let my legs unfold from around his waist and touch my toes to the floor.
But I can’t stand still. I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet, itching to get my hands back on the amazing dress. My dress.
Denham chuckles low in his throat. “You gonna stand there bouncin’ all night, Stunner?”
I shake my head, shrug off the robe and grab up the dress. Denham groans when my robe hits the floor, and I knew he would. So much for letting him see later tonight. But I can’t think past getting that dress on.
I step into the dress. The silk caresses my skin as I fit it into place and fasten the hook of the halter around my neck.
The sheer fabric skims and highlights all the right parts and the silvery slate gray is highlighted by tiny crystals that make it glisten as I move.
It’s not a millimeter too big or small. It fits like a second skin.
Denham steps in behind me, placing his hands at the small of my back and runs up the small hidden zipper, which makes sure the dress sits snugly up to my waist.
He runs his fingertip up my spine, making me shiver, and plays with a loose curl that hangs partly down my back. He turns me gently toward him by placing his hands on my shoulders.
“I love it,” I whisper, smiling up at him.
“I’m glad.”
He kisses my cheek gently, careful not to touch or smudge my makeup, then he moves around me to get dressed himself.
We move around the room quietly, stealing glances at one another and for the first time, enjoying the anticipation of a great night ahead.
I slip my feet into strappy silver spike heels, miraculously just the right height to let the dress graze the floor, and grab my clutch, taking one last look in the mirror to check everything is in place.
Denham finishes tying his bow tie as he comes to stand next to me with a frown, looking us up and down in the reflection of the mirror.
“It’s not right,” he grumbles.
“What?” My heart sinks.
“There’s something missing.”