Chapter 14 - Aurélie
Ivy straightened and hauled me upright, inspecting my makeup.
“I really should’ve set your base before I threw a pillow at you. Now I have to fix it.”
I stuck my tongue out. “Do we have to? I don’t know, I almost feel like we should just let them see what Morel did.”
“No. Tilt your chin,” she demanded, back to business, as if our moment had never happened. That was Ivy, and one of the reasons I loved her. We could go from personal to professional in under five seconds. “We want ethereal, not corpse.”
“How flattering,” I deadpanned.
“Shut up and let me fix your face, Frenchie.” She tapped more product along my cheekbones. “It’s giving delicate vengeance.”
“Delicate vengeance?”
“Just trust me.”
I obeyed, my eyes fluttering closed as she worked.
“Okay, lips,” Ivy said, snapping me out of it. “Do you want soft slutty or business slutty?”
I cracked one eye open. “Which one says I could end you with a glare but would rather make you beg first?”
She blinked. “Dark mauve gloss it is.” She made quick work of it, the final sweep of her wand leaving my lips gleaming and looking kiss-ruined.
I was definitely starting to feel the second Vicodin.
My limbs were looser. My brain was syrupy.
I let myself sink back against the pillows, eyes drifting closed again.
I stretched my arms overhead, fingers tangling together.
I arched my back without thinking, letting any remaining tension leak from my body like smoke.
My top rode up over my ribs, and I sighed.
It was lazy, languid, and bordering on indecent.
“Jesus Christ,” Ivy muttered. “You’re about to make me ask to marry you.”
I giggled, and then Callum’s voice appeared from the doorway, startling us both.
“Don’t even joke about that.”
Ivy snorted. “Relax, Fraser. You’re the one who branded her last night.”
He grinned at me, all cocky and self-assured, and leaned against the doorjamb. “Don’t forget about this afternoon, too.”
My eyes flew wide open. “What?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice dripping with smug satisfaction, “that pretty little bite mark on your shoulder.”
I scrambled to a sitting position, Ivy laughing behind her hand as I yanked the strap of my tank top to the side. My fingers hovered over the bruise forming there—purple and red, blooming like a wicked little flower.
I looked at him in horrified confusion. “When did you—?”
His grin deepened, and he sauntered further into the room, grabbing the lavender bunny heating pad off the edge of the bed. He held it up with one hand, like a prize.
“That was when you were peak orgasm,” he said casually, before tossing a diabolical wink over his shoulder and slipping out of the room.
“I am going to vomit into my own handbag,” Ivy muttered, one hand hovering over her throat as though she’d just witnessed a crime against humanity. “Do you two ever stop being disgusting?”
I stared after him, mouth slightly ajar. Even with his presence gone now, I felt it. The pull in the air, the static shift, and my whole body filled with heat.
“Ivy,” I said quickly, tugging her sleeve, desperate to distract myself. “Let’s move onto the dresses.”
“Please. Before Callum tries to jump your bones or Marco tries to propose.”
I stood a little too fast and wobbled, Ivy watching me carefully.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Vicodin and vibes, baby.” I flashed a too-bright grin.
She rolled her eyes but offered a hand anyway, and I let her tug me to my feet.
The first dress I grabbed was draped over a velvet hanger like it knew it would be too much. Structured black fabric with long sleeves, a square neckline, cinched at the waist, skirt barely brushing the middle of my thighs. It looked like a piece you wore to summon the dead.
As Ivy helped zip me into it, her brows lifted high. “This one says you run a coven.”
I glanced down at myself. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Absolutely not,” she said, hands on her hips as she took a step back. “It’s powerful. Like ‘stabbed my fifth husband and got away with it’ energy. I just don’t know if it’s dinner.”
I adjusted the neckline and twisted to check the back in the mirror. “Let’s get a second opinion.”
We walked out, and I gave a dramatic little twirl as we entered the living room where the boys were still lounging. Callum was now seated on the couch across from Marco and Kimi, one leg over his knee, still holding my lavender bunny heating pad in one large hand like it belonged there.
Kimi leaned forward the moment he saw me, eyeing the dress with a dubious squint. “You look like you seduce widowers for sport.”
Marco bobbed his head once. “Witchy. Tragic. Sexy. I’m into it.”
Ivy crossed her arms, smug. “I mean… it’s the neckline of a Regency scandal.”
Callum didn’t speak, but his grip tightened on the heating pad, thumb idly stroking one of the floppy ears. I watched the motion, thinking about him repeating that motion over my clit.
Bad Aurélie. Down girl.
God, sometimes it felt like he had me trained.
I loved it.
He stared at me with the kind of hunger that made my breath stutter—slow, calculating, like he’d already imagined the dress crumpled on the floor. His jaw flexed once, and then again. His gaze flicked to mine, then dipped to the hem before tracing its way back up—pausing at my mouth.
“You’re going to make me commit a crime,” he said at last, the edges of his accent thickening in that way I loved.
Marco groaned and threw a pillow at him. “Jesus. Come on, you two.”
Kimi held up his glass. “Get a room.”
Callum didn’t look away from me as he drawled, “This is our room.”
I grinned, popping my hip and resting a hand on it. “You’re all just guests in it.”
Marco fake gagged. “I can’t be here for this.”
Kimi covered his face. “The air in here is actually getting thicker. I can’t breathe.”
“I’m warning you now,” Callum muttered, his voice lower and darker than before, “if she walks into that dinner in that dress, I’m handcuffing myself to her chair.”
“Oh my God,” Ivy muttered, dragging me back toward the bedroom by the wrist. “Well, there’s your second opinion. Time for the next one.” She shut the door behind us with a dramatic huff and leaned against it. “You two are a public safety hazard.”
I smirked. “That’s rich coming from the woman who flirted with half the customs officers in Austria.”
“That was diplomacy,” she shot back, rummaging through the next pile of black silk and satin. “You? You’re foreplay with a passport.”
“Flattered,” I retorted dryly. “Now hand me the next one before Callum actually commits a crime.”
Ivy held up the next hanger like she was unveiling a relic. “Okay, this one’s dangerous. Like ‘I like to fuck at funerals’.”
I paused, eyeing the dress skeptically. “But, you know… tastefully?”
“Exactly,” she said, zipping me in. “Definitely in a respectful way.”
I looked at my reflection, running a hand down the velvet skirt. “Perfect. Grieving widow with a secret. Maybe I’ll scare Reinhardt into early retirement.”
Ivy tilted her head, pursing her lips in thought. “Be honest, though—Reinhardt. Is he bad or not? Because I don’t want to be attracted to the villain, but he’s giving… major daddy vibes.”
I choked so violently I nearly face-planted into the vanity. “Do not say that word to me right now.”
Her brows shot up. “Oh my God. You didn’t.”
I covered my flaming cheeks with my hands. “I might have. Last night. During—”
“Nope!” She clapped her hands over her ears. “I can’t hear this. I’m already traumatized by the pillow thing!”
“You asked!” I shrieked, laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
“You’re sick,” she muttered, waving toward the door. “Get out there before I start staging an exorcism.”
Scoffing, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and strutted into the living room, tugging the hem down even though it didn’t go any lower. “Okay,” I announced. “Thoughts?”
Marco let out a low whistle. “You look like a haunted doll. And I mean that in the best way.”
“Yeah,” Kimi added, squinting with approval. “Like if Wednesday Addams went to a sex club.”
Callum’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze dragging down the velvet hugging my waist, pausing at the flare of my hips, the curve of my thighs. I followed his eyes and noticed the faint handprint still blooming on my skin.
His fingers clenched tighter around the lavender bunny.
“So… is this one a no, mon amour?”
Ivy didn’t miss a beat. “Wait. Why are you seeking a man’s approval on your outfit again?”
I grinned. “I’m not. I’m collecting reactions to feed my ego.”
“Mine’s broken,” Callum said flatly. “Congratulations.”
Marco clapped once. “RIP to that man’s self-control.”
Kimi raised his glass. “To sexual tension in designer couture.”
I turned and waltzed back into the bedroom. Ivy was hot on my heels, grabbing the next hanger before I could even shut the door. “Now this one’s dominatrix debutante,” she declared. “And I’m obsessed.”
“Oh no,” I muttered, eyeing the gloves. “This looks like it comes with a safe word.”
“It does. The safe word is ‘again.’”
I rolled my eyes, but stepped into the backless lace corset dress anyway.
The second it was tied, I knew it was dangerous.
Ivy cinched the laces up the back, and I swore I felt her fingers in my spine.
It clung in all the right places—corseted waist, sheer mesh panels, scalloped lace hem that barely grazed my thighs.
The long, sheer black gloves were patterned in delicate lace, tight from shoulder to wrist like a second skin.
They shimmered faintly with a velvet embossing, catching the light with every breath.
The corset back laced up in neat, narrow rows, and the hem barely covered the top of my thighs.
My lower back tattoo was visible through the crisscrossed ribbon.
And the gloves—elbow-length and matching—were so snug Ivy had to roll them up slowly, inch by inch, like she was dressing me in sin.
Holy fuck.