I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “Why?”
They turned and walked toward the door like this was just another everyday exit, but I wasn’t buying it. I took a step after them, gut twisting, instincts flaring. “Why?” I repeated louder.
Nova didn’t even look back when she tossed the words over her shoulder, all casual and cool.
“The grandpas are coming.”
I froze as my stomach dropped straight into my heels.
Oh, fuck.
31
ANIYAH
“Niya! I told you that dress wasfire.I swear, if I had a body like yours, I’d be in my slut phaseforever.”
I ran my fingers over the practically see-through silver dress, marveling at how soft and delicate it felt despite the uncut gems sewn throughout. They shimmered like stardust under the lights. The floor-length gown was an elegant, off-the-shoulder, and long-sleeved masterpiece, but those five-inch side gaps running from under my arms all the way down to the floor made itmine. Since the dress was essentially made out of two panels that were only connected because of the sleeves, I used magic to keep the fabric taped down on the sides so I wouldn’t be nude with a little bit of fabric draped over me.
The fabric clung to me like a second skin, thick enough to obscure the finer details but sheer enough to tease the tone of my flesh underneath. This kind of dress didn’t need to scream to seduce. It flashed you with what you desired, begging to be unwrapped slowly, reverently. I felt like a piece of art, a sculpture, showing just enough of my curves to leave a bite in everyone’s memory.
Pairing it with a set of strappy silver heels, blood-red lips, and big waves that tumbled around my face, I was channeling old Hollywood glam with a filthy little twist.
“Nova, please. You have a banging body,” I said, pinching the skin on her waist where there was nothing but toned abs and raw power. “You’ve got that lean try-me vibe. I could stand to lose a few.” I turned and gave my own ass a disgruntled squeeze.
Nova blinked at me. One beat. Two. Then burst into a full-body laugh that echoed off the walls. “Say dumb shit like that again, and Iwillkill you.”
We had spent the whole morning prepping for the launch, overseeing decor, lighting, security plans, and by 10:36 a.m., Van confirmed we were completely sold out. That was when Nova clapped her hands and announced the two of us were done for the day.
That sent Van and Rack into a slight panic, but Nova’s claws shot out, freshly sharpened, and casually raked them down their faces—not hard enough to draw blood, just enough to make a point. They backed off instantly. She even told Van to warn the other“boyfriends”not to show up at my place because she’d be helping me get ready. No distractions allowed.
Van just smiled, leaned in, and whispered against my lips, “Have fun.” Then he kissed me hard enough to make the stars behind my eyes start doing cartwheels.
Ever since the no-kissing rule had been broken, he’d been taking full advantage, but I wasn’t exactly complaining.
If Nova hadn’t been playing the part of disapproving chaperone, I’d have happily turned that kiss into a back-of-the-closet porno shoot.
“And, you know—” I stopped mid-sentence when I spotted Nova standing by the garment rack, thoughtfully running her fingers over one of my more elegant pieces. A deep green gown with a structured sweetheart neckline and a subtle yet shimmery band of diamonds tracing the thigh slit.
I had bought it because I felt like every woman needed one dress that whispered class without losing its edge, and the way Nova was touching it—softly, like it was something she didn’t think she had the right to claim—made my chest ache.
“You should wear that,” I said gently. “I haven’t worn it yet. I think it’d give you the shape you want.”
She dropped the fabric like it had burned her and turned to glare at me. “Yeah, no. The Rossey boss is not about to wear some frilly-ass dress to a sex club. What about that says sex to you?”
I threw my hands up. “Everything! It says classy, mysterious sex. Like… covert-orgasms-in-a-Bentley kind of sex or in-the-million-dollar-coat-room sex.”
She folded her arms, eyebrows raised like I was an idiot.
Groaning, I stomped over to my closet and started yanking out outfits like a fashion therapist with a vendetta. “These tights and off-the-shoulder sweater saycozy sex.” I tossed them aside and pulled out something with leather straps and more zippers than a biker gang convention. “This one saysI-have-a-vagina-and-I’m-gonna-use-it-to-fuck-yousex.” Next came a cropped button-up and a pleated mini skirt. “And with the right accessories,” I said, twirling my hair like a clueless ingénue, “this one saysI’m-still-in-college-teach-me-somethingsex.”
Putting everything back, I pointed to the green dress again. “ButthatsaysI’m-a-lady-boss-hear-me-roarsex. Plus…” I lifted thediamond-trimmed slit. “It technically meets the night's dress code.”
I could see her resolve cracking. Her eyes flicked toward the dress again, her posture softening, body leaning forward like her instincts wanted it. Then her damn phone buzzed.
She pulled it out, reading the text fast then typing out a response. Once she was done, she slipped out of the closet, her voice too light to be real. “I already have an outfit. It’s fine. Maybe next time.”
My lips pinched together. I knew that tone. Knew thatlie.The second her screen lit up, she snapped right back into Rossey boss mode. No time for softness. No space for dresses that clung to or celebrated femininity.
