“Geez, you really are getting to be a pain in the ass,” Eduardo grumbles.
“Just be there.” I swipe away the call.
Hopefully, by tonight, I’ll have my passport, but first I have to go to The Tropics in some revealing, sexy outfit with the intention of attracting a man who can never be mine—not too screwed up.
Three hours later, my room over the gym looks like every designer on Rodeo Drive threw up on the bed. Valentino, Versace, Gucci, Dior—there isn’t an Italian or French designer not represented.
I’d only heard bits and pieces about Marisol, Smoke’s old lady, but gossip says she’s the daughter of a now dead cartel boss. She and her brother, Manuel, the treasurer for the Royal Bastards, inherited his millions, but choose to live lowkey amongst the club—except when it comes to shopping.
“These are amazing.” Maxie shifts through the mountain of dresses, skirts and tops. “I can see your last trip to the States was a huge success.”
“You should’ve come with me.”
“Shopping’s not really my thing, but—” Maxie holds up a hot pink body-con dress. “This is outrageous.”
“Wear it tonight.” Marisol waves her hand at the dress. “I say we go all out since this will be Martina’s first Friday night club party.”
“Not exactly.” I lock eyes with Marisol. “Two weeks ago, I was mistaken for Diesel’s birthday gift.”
“Well, there’ll be no mistakes tonight. When that man gets a look at you in one of these outfits, he won’t be looking at anyone else.”
“Anyway,” Maxie adds, “Diesel’s birthday party was on a Saturday—totally different vibe. Fridays, everyone really lets loose and gets wild.”
Diesel’s party was the wildest one I’d ever seen, so I can’t wait to see what Fridays are about—or maybe I can.
Maxie finishes twisting my hair into colored Velcro rollers of different sizes. “This will really give it body.”
“Now, let’s pick out an outfit that will make Diesel stand up and take notice.” Marisol digs into the pile.
“Or at least make one part of him stand up and take notice,” Maxie adds.
My heart does a deep dip on her comment, but I stay silent. These women are a force all their own, and I almost feel sorry for Blood and Smoke, but I have a feeling they love every minute of their feisty women.
“Ohhh, this would be perfect on you.” Maxie holds up a black dress with a deep cowl neckline. The kind of neckline I’d have to tape in place unless I want to expose myself.
“No, no,” Marisol argues. “Black is so boring, so last year. This is much better.”
My eyes go wide, and I don’t want to insult Maxie’s choice, but Marisol is right. The dress she holds up is stunning because it’s sexy without being obvious.
I sift the buttery material through my fingers, and I can just feel it hugging my body. The cobalt blue is dark enough to be sexy yet sophisticated. The thick ties of the halter top will cover my modest boobs and maybe even make them look bigger, but the standout feature of this dress is the backless design ending at the tailbone.
“This is amazing.” I can’t seem to stop touching this lush fabric until my fingers snag on a tag still attached to the dress.
“This is brand-new.” I’m stating the obvious, but still.
“So?” Marisol shrugs.
“You haven’t even worn it yet.” I fumble with the tag and look closer. “And it’s four thousand dollars.” I drop the tag like it’s on fire and step away from the dress.
Marisol crosses her arms over her chest like I’ve offended her. “I don’t get your point.”
“My point is, all my clothes put together don’t cost four thousand dollars, and there’s no way I’m wearing a brand-new, expensive dress that you haven’t even worn yet.”
“Just put it on.” Marisol shoves the dress at me. “You’ll change your mind.”
“But . . .”
“There’s no sense arguing with her.” Maxie rolls her eyes. “Especially when she’s set on something. Even Smoke can’t get his own way.”
