“Are you sure? I know you’re busy with wedding planning. And I feel bad that I can’t help you more,” I say.
“Ellie. You have been busy yourself. You’re starting a new job and getting your life on track. And besides, I’m always more than happy to help you with your little man. He’s my favorite baby that was ever born.”
I feel a sharp scratch in my heart. I hate the implication that my life has beenoffthe tracks. I also hate the sadness I can hear in her voice even though she’s doing her best to hide it. Every day that goes by that Rachel is not pregnant is just a reminder that she has everything in the world except the one thing she truly wants. Which is another reason I remind myself that I have to do this job, no matter what it entails.
That evening after Rachel picks Luca up, I change out of my dress. The one that Damien said was too long. It falls exactly one inch below my knees. But I guess in this industry, every inch counts. And in the case of women’s attire, longer isn’t better.
I’m not really sure what to do about that either. As I rummage through my closet in search of something, well, shorter, I am kind of at a loss. It’s not that I don’t have work attire, but most of it is more professional than sexy. As I dig further into the back, I am able to find a red cocktail dress from years ago that I wore on a night out with Rachel. It’s not exactly something I’d normally wear to work, but I’m not used to my work shift being at a gentleman’s club either.
I slip into the dress paired with the silver heels I bought to go with it and look at myself in the mirror. Jesus Christ. I look like I’m getting ready for a date, and a hot one at that. Honestly, the whole thing feels a little wild. Okay, it feels very wild. But I know there’s no backing out now. I have less than thirty minutes before I am supposed to be at the Redwood. That was the only instruction Damien gave me. Be at the Redwood at nine thirty. No earlier or later.
I take a deep breath. I don’t know if I am ready for this. But I look at myself in the mirror again.
My nails are painted.
My hair is curled.
My makeup is dramatic.
My lips are glossed. The same color as my dress.
I am as ready as I’ll ever be. As I drive to the hotel, the night is alive in a way only Vegas lights up. In this city, every day is made to feel epic. Like a best-kept secret that you want to show only this corner of the world. And while the residential side of Vegas is where I spend the majority of the time, I look around and realize this is the city where anyone can be anything they want. Including me. So as I park my car and grab my small clutch bag that is only big enough for my keys, wallet and phone, I look in the mirror one last time.
My hair is perfect. My makeup is spotless. For the first time in years, I look like a woman. Not a mom. Not a receptionist. Not a waitress. But a desirable, mysterious, confident woman.
“You can do this,” I tell myself in the mirror as I step out of the car.
I parked in VIP, per Damien’s instruction. My heels clack on the pavement as I walk to the front entrance of the hotel. I am wearing a black peacoat, also per Damien’s instruction.You will take it off only once we enter the Opal Room.I use the word instruction, not request, because Damien isn’t the kind of man who asks for anything. He simply states what he wants, what he expects, and people listen. I figured that the moment I walked into the interview. Before I even knew what the all-inclusive benefits were, I could tell what kind of man he was. He was intimidating, and yet…I couldn’t help but want to please him. I’ve never really said that about a man in power before.
A black Jaguar rolls up to the curb, and I suck in a sharp breath. Damien told me the driver would be here at nine thirtyon the dot, so I assume this is him. I take a step towards the car when suddenly the back door on the driver's side of the car opens and out steps Damien.
Black button-down, fitted enough to showcase his tight chest muscles. Black slacks would definitely showcase something as well if he isn’t careful. But I think the thing that has my breath stuck in my throat, my body frozen in place, is the way he is looking at me as he rounds the car and opens the other door for me.
“Are you ready, Annelise?” he asks. Ready for what, I don’t know. But whatever it is, I suppose I’m going to have to be.
Chapter 9
Damien
Annelise’s perfume is sweet, and its rosy scent fills the air in the car, making it impossible to think straight. I’m not a nervous man, and that’s not the word I’d use to describe the way I feel now. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little uneasy. Maybe it is that perfume she’s wearing. Maybe it’s the proximity. Whatever it is, I have to change the way I’m sitting because my slacks are getting very, very tight.
“Let me see your dress,” I tell her, and the question seems to startle her. Either that or it’s the breaking of the silence. It’s obvious she’s been holding her breath since she got in the car.
“My dress,” she stutters, looking over at me for the first time.
“Unless you were planning on wearing that jacket all night long. Which obviously isn’t going to work.”
Even in the dim streetlights streaking past the car, I can tell she’s blushing. I love that I can make her do that. It’s the most intoxicating shade of pink. Slowly, she unties the peacoat and opens it up, revealing a cheap, sequined red dress underneath. Aside from looking like a firetruck-colored disco ball, it’s very plain. Strait cut at the bottom, no slit, no texture. The bust is also straight cut across her breasts, high enough that there isn’t even a hint of cleavage.
“That’s not going to work either,” I say flatly and watch her deflate.
“Preston, Essence,” I tell my driver, who nods once and switches lanes.
“I’m sorry,” Annelise says. “I don’t go out much. It was the only thing I had.”
“It’s not a problem,” I tell her. “I will take care of it.”
Annelise nods, and the rest of the car ride is quiet until we pull up to the premium outlets. I get out first and walk around the car to open her door for her. Annelise is hesitant at first, like a kitten being persuaded out of its carrier for the first time at a new home. But when I hold out a hand, she takes it and steps out.
