As the woman returns to us, she settles the gowns draped over her arm onto a nearby rack. There are at least twelve of them, in various shades of green. Some silken, others covered in glittery sequins, all of them beautiful. The woman tops off our glasses before lowering herself toward Ava and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Mr. Davis has left explicit instruction thatbothof his guests are to make a selection today.”
Ava’s eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“Is hehere?” I ask.
“No, ma’am.”
I dig into my purse – the first of now many gifts from Eric, and I pull out my phone to shoot off a quick text to him.
Me:What are you up to?
Eric::D
Me:That’s not an answer.
Eric:;)
“I hate him,” I announce with a soft laugh, stuffing the device back into its holding place.
Within twenty minutes, our little – okay, huge – couch is surrounded by racks of dresses for the two of us to try on. It feels like we’re prom dress shopping together, sipping on probably two and a half bottles of champagne and watching each other spin around in our pretty princess dresses, most ofwhich are floor-length gowns, though there are a few thigh-cut outliers in the mix.
Ava steps out of the dressing room and onto the small pedestal in front of the couch, wearing a royal purple dress made of silk that falls just below her ankles. The corset bodice hugs her body while the skirt swoops down at the side, making her legs look a mile long – in a good way.
“Sheeeeeesh,” I crow, fanning myself off. “I’m hard.” Ava cackles, joining in on the fanning, then reaches for the price tag at the side, and I grab onto her wrist to stop her. “We’re not allowed to look.”
“Oh, this has to bekillingyou, coupon queen,” she laughs.
“The necklace killed me,” I tell her. “At this point, this is just desecration of my corpse.”
She steps closer and takes my face in her hands, squishing my cheeks together. “Your love makes me sick,” she tells me, “and I’m very happy for you.”
She plants a big kiss at the center of my forehead before turning away to change out of her dress and into the casual clothes that she wore to the boutique.
Minutes later, I slip into a dress of my own; a hunter green dress made from silk velvet. It’s a simple design with a strapless bodice that has a sweetheart neckline, and an asymmetrical skirt that pulls up at the thigh, leaving the rest of the fabric to pool at my feet. It’s classy, but still sexy. The urge to check the price tag before I fall in love with it practically consumes me, but I manage to shove it away and let myself love the damn dress.
Eric’s card burns through my skin while we stand at the register, waiting to hear the total on our dresses, but the woman ringing us up never says a number. She doesn’t let me see the screen, either, and I can only assume that there were more ‘explicit instructions’ on his list than the ones that she told us about. I feel like I’m committing a felony as I swipe the card through the reader, but I do it anyway, because I canonly imagine the ways that he would ‘punish’ me for not using it.
As nauseating as it is, it’s also just a little bit exciting.
THIRTY-ONE
Davis
I hate wearing fucking suits – have I mentioned that? ‘Cause I do.
I pull a black shirt over my shoulders, anyway, and work to get all of the buttons secured before tucking the bottom of the shirt into my matching black slacks. Reaching into my closet, I grab a champagne-colored suit jacket, covered in filigree stitching, and throw it on, securing the single button at the middle. I head for my nightstand, pulling open the top drawer, and I fish out a few pills in varying shape and color to stuff them into my pocket. On my way out of the apartment, I grab my forty-five and slip it into the holster tucked underneath the waistband of my slacks.
Just in case.
I’m the first of the group to arrive at the collective; loud music and celebration can be heard even from outside the double doors that lead into the main hall, and I’m itching to get inside. I pull one of the brightly-colored pills from my pocket and lean against the wall, dropping it into my mouth and swallowing it before I settle in to wait for everyone else to show up.
Another fifteen minutes pass before a glossy black Escalade pulls up to the walkway and Colt, Rowan, Emmett and Logan all spill out of it, dressed to the damn nines. I reachinto my back pocket for my cell phone and type out a quick message to the driver I sent for Sophia and her friend more than half an hour ago.
Me:Where the fuck are you?
I slip my phone back into its place and move to my family, giving each of them a quick hug, and I give Rowan a quick peck on the cheek.
