Chapter 16 #3
My phone, face down on the kitchen counter, buzzes once. Then again. Then it keeps buzzing in a rhythm that will have me throwing it through a window if I let it. Brooke. Brooke. An unknown number. Brooke. Two more unknowns. A name I haven’t seen in three years. Brooke again.
I leave the phone where it is.
Ethan, at the island with a coloring book, looks up at me.
“You okay, Miranda?”
“I’m okay, buddy.”
“Your face is weird.”
“My face is always weird.”
He giggles.
I go back to chopping carrots. There’s a ring on my finger catching every bit of light in the room. A man’s bedroom upstairs has my toothbrush in it now.
The dress arrives by courier at six.
A note from Grayson’s publicist mentions silhouettes and lines. I don’t read it. I hang the dress on the back of his bathroom door, standing in front of it for a long minute before I move.
I wash in his shower and use his shampoo because Brooke didn’t pack mine. The scent of him is on my skin now. Using his bathroom, showering here, is all so intimate that I can’t seem to keep it together.
The dress fits as though the publicist measured me through a window. Knee-length, fitted at the waist, a neckline that hides the bruise on my collarbone if I tug one strand of hair forward. I do tug it forward, twice, watching myself in his bathroom mirror.
Behind me in the reflection is his shower. His razor on the shelf. My face cream beside it.
I stare at the woman in the glass and don’t recognize her.
She has her hair down. A ring on her left hand. A dress costing more than her last paycheck. She looks as though she has a life.
I murmur to her, very quietly, that this is not mine. None of this is mine, and I had better not get used to it.
Grayson waits in the foyer wearing a charcoal jacket, dark shirt open at the collar. His hair is pushed back from his face. His amber eyes find me on the third step and stay there for the rest of the staircase.
He doesn’t move.
When I reach the bottom step, he murmurs, “You look beautiful.”
The word comes out raw.
“Yeah, well.” I tug at the dress. “A walrus would look good in this dress. Let’s just go.”
His lips twitch. “Are you that incapable of taking a compliment?”
I swallow, trying to look everywhere but at him. “They make me feel awkward. I don’t know how to deal with them.”
Grayson is silent for a moment, and then he tucks my hand in his elbow. “Well, I can tell you that no sea walrus looks half as good as you right now.”
I snort out a laugh, and when I glance at him, he seems rather pleased with himself.
“Thanks.” The tension has dissipated, and it’s time we head out to put on the show of our lives.
Grayson drives us into town, and we pull up at a small restaurant tucked between two boutiques on a side street.
The valet opens my door before I can find the handle.
Grayson rounds the car, and his palm settles at the small of my back.
We’re walking through the entrance, the host already nodding at us, our arrival expected.
There is a booth in a corner. Candlelight and low music contribute to the ambience. Two glasses of red wine are already poured. Through the window beside us, the street is dark.
The waiter arrives with the menus, and I’m nervous throughout. “I thought we were going to some fancy event,” I mutter. “How are we going to reveal our engagement here?”
Grayson looks amused. “It’s all about subtlety. We are already being watched.”
I’m about to turn around, but he nudges me with his foot. “Don’t look at the window.” His voice is low. “Don’t turn your head. Look at me.”
I look at him.
He sets his wine down and reaches across the table. Taking my left hand in both of his, he turns it slightly so the ring catches the candle. Then he lifts my knuckles to his mouth.
His lips press against my skin.
It’s a small kiss which looks like a private gesture. The camera, somewhere outside the window, catches it.
Heat floods my face.
He doesn’t let go.
“Don’t enjoy this so much,” I murmur, low enough that the booth two over cannot hear.
“I wouldn’t dare.” But he’s smiling as he says it, and his fingers are playing with mine. “I did warn you, though. I gave you sufficient warnings not to do this. I tried to do the right thing.”
My brows furrow. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He lifts my hand and kisses the ring, his eyes on mine. The heat in his eyes, the raw hunger makes my lips tremble. “You’re—You’re not supposed to look at me like that.”
I mumble out the words, and he smiles, the sharp smile of a predator. “It’s really hard not to when I know you’ll be sleeping in my bed later tonight.”
My face feels so hot that I wonder it’s not exploding. “We’re not—It’s not like that. You can’t—”
“It’s so rare for you to be speechless.” He smiles now, and my heart is in my mouth. What exactly did I sign myself up for?
He kisses my knuckles again and then leans forward, his upper body lifting half off the chair. His hand is reaching for my neck, sliding around to grasp my nape. He pulls me forward, and I have no choice but to go with the flow.
“Smile for the cameras, my darling,” he whispers against my lips before seizing them in a kiss so fierce and so tender that my toes curl almost immediately.
I hear the click of a camera shutter.