Chapter 34 | Kate
THIRTY-FOUR | KATE
Ismooth my hands over the flowy fabric, unable to tear my eyes away from the dress that has emotion gripping my chest.
Back at my studio, I have the necessities: comfortable clothes, a few casual ones, and a few pairs of my work overalls.
The only other thing I left back there are photos I’ve kept stashed in my wallet, along with all the money I have made from working at the park.
I’m sure my landlord, Sindy, is worried sick, now that she knows I am running from someone.
My rent was due the night after Arden drugged me at dinner and forced my secrets out.
It’s been four days since then, and she hasn’t heard from me.
I may only have a few personal things and clothes, but my wardrobe definitely doesn’t have a ten-thousand-dollar dress that appears to have been made for me.
Preston asked me to go out on a date with him in the bathtub, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Like my mind wasn’t whirling in a million different directions, recounting the night when I was bound to that chair, wondering if I would die, and then wondering if he would.
The whiplash happened so fast that it split my brain.
We both needed several days to recuperate and rest. And I’m thankful for that, considering there are still faint marks painted on both my wrists from the zip ties.
I haven’t seen much of Arden. He’s been avoiding Preston and me.
The few times I have seen him, he’s made uncomfortable eye contact with me from across the room with a vanquished look in his eyes.
His mouth would faintly twist to the side, as if the remorse was oozing through the control he kept so well maintained all the time.
Then he’d give me a singular nod before disappearing.
The worst part? I don’t hate him for what he did, and I know I should. I can’t imagine the kind of trauma that comes with opening a box to see the hearts of two people you love.
The part of them that should keep the blood circulating through their body.
The part that feels.
That loves.
That keeps them alive.
I have so many questions I want to ask Preston tonight.
Yet there’s something sharp weaving between my ribs that tells me those answers might be figuratively written into the timeline tonight.
He wants to know me, and I want to know him.
The good things about the past and the worst. What the future could look like.
All our little ugly truths, no matter how unpleasant they may be.
I want all of it. All of him.
They are things I need to know if I’m going to answer the one question he hung over my head.
“I was going to ask you to stay.”
It’s not like I don’t want to. I do. But when that request sliced through the air and then impaled my heart, my rationality somehow started kicking in. I barely know Preston.
What I do know about him, this life, is that it is equally composed of terrifying moments as it is of tender ones.
Like him.
I stare at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the closet, twisting and turning to admire myself from every angle.
The soft pink fabric highlights the tan notes to my skin.
The sweetheart neckline with spaghetti straps dips low, pushing up my breasts enough that the light skims the swells.
The flowy skirt with a high slit cuts up high on my thigh, leaving little to the imagination.
All topped off with tan heels that I have to relearn how to walk in, and my long, curled hair tossed up into a slicked-back ponytail.
I’ve never felt this beautiful.
Preston plopped me in his office chair, gave me his card, and told me to order whatever I wanted to wear for our date.
Date.
It still doesn’t feel real. Like any moment, I’ll wake up from this dream and realize Xander and Preston are only a figment of my imagination.
Only one of those things I wish was a fantasy.
But without one, I wouldn’t have the other.
I wouldn’t be standing in a dress, waiting to go out on a date that I’m sure, knowing how extra Preston is, will blow all my expectations out of the water. If my collar were pure gold, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something overly extravagant planned.
My fingers drift to my collarbones. I kind of miss it.
Then he pressed his lips to my temple and told me to go crazy.
So, I did.
When I saw this dress from a boutique, I knew instantly it was what I wanted to wear. The best part is what is hidden under it; I’m wearing strapless lingerie that hugs my curves and comes with matching garters.
I feel like Marilyn Monroe with the flowy skirt, but I have a dirty secret underneath all the fabric. And I’m not just talking about the lingerie that I hope will end up on his floor at the end of the night. I also have my blade strapped to my thigh on the leg opposite the slit.
It’s exhilarating.
A knock sounds at the door, and I walk out of the closet to see Gretta standing in my room. Her cheeks are painted a rosy pink, a smile dancing on her lips. She looks almost…proud. “Your date is outside.”
Five minutes later, I’m standing in the circular driveway, my glossed lips parted in awe as I stare at the man leaning against a navy-blue Bugatti. Where the hell has he been keeping that beauty?
His short beard is neatly trimmed to perfection.
One hand is tucked into the pockets of his charcoal gray suit, which I know perfectly hugs that firm ass.
It stretches across the planes of his chest in that black button-down, my fingers already buzzing to pop those buttons and stroke his warm, strong body with my fingertips.
Memorize every strain of muscle. His tendons that ripple when he moves.
The veins that beg for the attention of my lips and my tongue, as if I can memorize the mapping of him.
My lace panties are damp on the spot. My pussy extracted all the moisture from my mouth. It’s pooling at my core as my handsome devil tries to melt me with his presence alone.
And to make it worse, he’s lethal, holding a bouquet of pink anemone flowers with the iconic black centers that pop against the pastel petals.
How he knows that’s my favorite flower is beyond me. Then I remember this man’s power is so unfathomable that I’m just scratching the surface of what he’s truly capable of.
He probably knows my blood type, too.
I’m so engrossed in ogling him that I don’t realize he’s been slowly stalking toward me. The expanse of his throat moves, and those warm bourbon eyes fuse with mine.
“Goddamn. If looks could kill…” He shakes his head, his hoarse voice trembling in a way that makes me grin.
I’ve never seen him this nervous before.
Fire licks up my body as his eyes drop again, leisurely taking me in like he may not get another chance to.
He holds out the bouquet. “These are for you.”
I reach for the flowers, lifting them to my nose. The sweet, floral scent coaxes a smile to my lips. “You want to explain to me how you know what my favorite flower is?”
He smirks, holding a hand up between us. Placing my palm in his, he spins me around gently, pulling my back into his chest. “It’ll ruin the magic, darling.” Preston’s hand brushes my hip. “For some reason, I want to keep impressing you.”
His arm snakes around my side, a gold chain dangling from his fingertips in front of me. I inhale a sharp breath.
It’s my collar.
I reach up, taking the gold jewelry in my hand. And I say jewelry, because there’s no longer a lock on it with the tracking device anymore. Instead, there’s a black gemstone that reflects the blue sky above us, and a clasp that allows me to take it off if I want.
He's giving me the choice, and that notion has butterfly wings fluttering in my stomach.
It's breathtaking.
Preston’s hands cup my arms, his hot breath skimming across my neck before he plants a kiss on my shoulder. “Do you like it?”
I nod, trying to keep my emotions in check. “What about the tracking device?”
“I had it replaced with a black sapphire. I don’t want you to have any doubts if you decide to stay. I want you to trust me.”
I hold the chain in my palm. “Will you put it on me?”
With his arm wrapped around my front, his fingertips brush against my hand to pick it up before he wraps it around my neck, securing the clasp. Clutching the bouquet to my chest, he moves the sapphire to rest on the dip between my collarbones.
Turning on my heels, I stare up at him, gliding my fingers over the metal. “Is it crazy to say I’ve missed wearing it?”
I follow the movement of his tongue wetting his bottom lip. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, darling. It’s putting images in my head of all the things I could give you to mark you as mine.”