He takes my free hand, raising it to his lips. The contact is brief, but electric. A flicker of heat that lingers long after it’s gone. “Until Saturday.”
With a suggestive smile, he turns and walks off into the crowd of shoppers as I watch on. I tell myself the flutter in my belly is nothing but irritation. But deep down, not even I believe that.
***
The navy dress hangs on the back of my door.
The moment Ivan invited me, I knew what I’d wear. It’s over twenty years old now, but still as stunning as the dayshewore it. It was only worn once, on what was one of the most monumental days of her life. It’s floor length and classically fitted, with sparkles across the bosom and waistband.
Bex wore this the night Ben and she finally admitted their feelings. I’d been there when she bought it, one of my happiest memories of her. Actually, Ben bought it. He handed over hiscredit card and let us go wild. She’d twirled in the dressing room like a film star; I’d never seen her more alive.
My hair is curled to perfection after I begged the hairdresser for an appointment. She took pity on me and squeezed me in, then I’d done the same with the local make-up artist. Luckily, it had all come together.
I pull the gown from the hanger, and it pools on the floor at my feet as I step into it. Then, I hoist it up over my shoulders. The zipper on the back is going to be a hindrance. I twist, strain, and curse under my breath. The damn thing won’t budge.
Ivan will have to do it when he gets here.
I’ve only heard from him once since our meeting in the shopping center?a simple text last night, confirming he would collect me at seven this evening. I’d texted backokay. He hadn’t responded.
My phone beeps, alerting me to a message, and it flashes up on the screen.
Outside.
You’ll need to come up. Door’s open.
I text back, then wander over to my window. There’s a sleek black limo sitting at the curb. My heart flutters. I watch as the driver, wearing a cap, opens the rear door. Ivan steps out onto the pavement. He is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome in his tux.
My focus stays glued to him as he strolls up my pathway. He glances up to my window, and our eyes meet. I lift my hand in silent greeting, and he smiles softly.
He appears at my apartment door within minutes. My two little roommates scurry across the wooden floor, yapping at the top of their lungs. Ivan stops mid-step, allowing them to sniffaround his shoes. Once they realize he hasn’t come with treats and isn’t a murderer, they lose interest and return to their beds.
“Sorry,” I mumble, “they like to think they’re guard dogs.” He glances at the two rat-like terriers now sprawled on a huge cushion covered in sheep jumping over fences.
“Don’t think I’d be trusting them with my safety,” he says. “Why did I need to come up?”
I turn around, showing him my exposed back. “Could you pull up my zipper?”
His breathing audibly hitches. I know the top of my lace thong is exposed, my back clear from straps. He’ll know the only underwear I have on is the scrap of material between my legs.
“Sure,” he says, clearing his throat. His voice sounds rougher than usual, strained. It’s like he’s trying to swallow something that won’t go down.
I feel him in my space?his breath on my neck causing my blood to heat violently from his proximity. He pinches the feeble metal between his fingers and tugs. It doesn’t move.
“You’ll need to draw the sides of the dress closer together, then pull,” I advise. Without a word, he tries again, and it slides up seamlessly.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Shall we go?” he asks, his breathing heavier than when he arrived. I turn to face him and nod. For a second, neither of us moves. Then he takes my hand and leads me from the apartment.
Inside the limo is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. In complete contrast to the dark exterior, the interior is sumptuous white leather with chrome. Ivan has a bottle of champagne ready on ice. Within minutes of setting off, he’s popped the cork, poured two glasses, and passed one to me.
“Is there anything I should be aware of?” I ask. “Do we have a cover story?”
He glances over. “Just tell them we met at one of the bodybuilding competitions and we’ve dated a few times. I doubt anyone will ask much.”
“From what I’ve heard, I’m the latest in a long line of women,” I say, my tone aiming for teasing, but lands closer to defensive.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he replies with a scowl.
