8. Jade
— ? —
Jade
The boutique is on the Upper East Side.
The kind of place I used to shop when I was married to Donald - when I had access to his money, when I was someone. The kind of place where the saleswomen wear head-to-toe black and assess your net worth with a single glance.
They assess me now. Take in my borrowed clothes, my prison-pale skin, the uncertainty in my posture.
I don’t belong here anymore.
But Damian walks in behind me like he owns the place - because in a way, he does, or at least his family does - and suddenly the saleswomen are all smiles.
“Mr. Castillo! Welcome back. How can we help you today?”
“My friend needs a dress.” He puts his hand on the small of my back, warm and steadying. “For the Foundation Gala.”
“Of course. Right this way.”
***
They bring us champagne. Show us to a private fitting area. Parade dress after dress past us while I sit frozen, overwhelmed by the choices.
“This one,” Damian says finally, pulling something from a rack the saleswoman was about to bypass. “Try this one.”
It’s emerald green. Silk. Backless. A slit up to the thigh.
“This is too much,” I say.
“It’s perfect.”
I take it into the dressing room with trembling hands. Slip it on.
The fabric feels like water against my skin, cool and smooth and impossibly luxurious. I turn to look at myself in the mirror.
And I barely recognize the woman staring back.
Who is that?
She looks... powerful. Dangerous. Like someone who’s been through hell and come out the other side with fire in her veins.
Is that me?
I step out of the dressing room.
Damian goes still.
He doesn’t say anything. Just stares.
“Well?” My voice comes out uncertain. Self-conscious. “Is it okay?”
“Okay?” He shakes his head slowly, and his eyes - those dark, intense eyes - travel over me like I’m a painting he’s trying to memorize. “Jade. You’re going to destroy them.”
Heat creeps up my neck. Down my spine. Into places I shouldn’t be thinking about.
“It’s just a dress.”
“It’s not the dress.” His voice is low. Almost a rumble. “It’s you.”
The saleswoman clears her throat awkwardly. “Shall I wrap it up?”
Damian doesn’t look away from me. “Yes.”
***
Damian
I am in so much trouble.
The drive home is torture. She’s sitting beside me in those borrowed clothes, the garment bag draped across her lap, and all I can think about is how she looked in that dress. The way the silk draped over her curves. The bare expanse of her back. The slit that revealed miles of leg.
She’s not for you, I remind myself. She just got out of prison. She’s processing trauma. She needs support, not some asshole who can’t keep his eyes to himself.
But my eyes keep drifting anyway. To her hands, clasped in her lap. To the curve of her neck. To the way she’s biting her lower lip, lost in thought.
Stop it.
“Three days,” I say, breaking the silence.
“Three days,” she echoes.
“Are you nervous?”
“Terrified.” She turns to look at me, and the vulnerability in her eyes makes my chest ache. “But not about seeing Donald or Vivian. I’m terrified of seeing Nova. What if she hates me? What if she doesn’t want to know me?”
I pull into the driveway. Kill the engine. Turn to face her fully.
“She’s going to love you. Because you’re her mother. And because...” I stop myself.
Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.
“Because what?”
Too late.
“Because you’re impossible not to love.”
The words hang in the air. Heavy. Dangerous.
Jade’s lips part. Her eyes widen.
And then my phone rings.
The moment shatters. I pull away, dig the phone out of my pocket, check the screen. Business. Something that can wait.
“I should get this,” I say, even though I absolutely should not.
“Of course.”
She gets out of the car. Walks toward the house.
And I sit there for a full minute, phone ringing in my hand, wondering what the hell I’m doing.
***
Jade
That night, I hear him in the shower.
I’m lying in bed, trying to sleep, when the water turns on in the bathroom down the hall. And my traitorous brain immediately conjures images I have no business imagining.
Stop it.
But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me in that dress. The way he said you’re impossible not to love and then looked at me like he was the one who was caught. The way his hand felt on my back, warm and possessive and right.
He’s Donald’s brother.
You just got out of prison.
You’re supposed to be focusing on Nova, not on-
The water turns off.
I hear footsteps in the hallway. A door closing.
Silence.
I lie there in the dark, heart pounding, body aching with something I haven’t felt in years.
This is dangerous, I think. He’s dangerous.
But as I finally drift off to sleep, it’s not danger I’m feeling.
It’s something much worse.