“Don’t.” He pulls out a light pink dress and holds it out for me. “This, wear this.”
He paces towards me and I eye the dress he is holding. Sweetheart neck. Fitted to the waist. Full skirt that sits mid-thigh. I don’t even remember packing it.
“Is it not too…” I pause, flicking my eyes over the dress.
“We’re going for food and drinks, it’s perfect.”
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“You have nothing else.” His voice is deadpan.
“Well, I didn’t think I would be fake dating a racing driver and having to go out for dinners.”
“Did you think you would just be rotting in your hotel room?” A smirk pulls at his lips, but he is trying to fight it.
“Yes, basically.” I tighten my arms across my chest.
He sighs, throwing the dress to the bed and my brows furrow. He steps closer to me, his eyes burning into mine as his hand folds into his back pocket and pulls out a red cherry leather wallet. My eyes widen.
“I’ll send someone out right now to buy you a new outfit, but you need to tell me what you want.”
Opening my mouth, I slam it shut again.
“Come on, kid, otherwise I’ll get them to sort it instead.”
“I don’t know.” My voice is small as the pressure builds and I feel myself getting flustered. I watch as he holds his phone up to his ear.
“Sylvie, it’s Royce.” She says something back and he laughs. “Yeah, good, thank you. I need an urgent favour.” He locks his beautiful blues on me. “I need a cocktail dress.” His eyes sweep over me in one heated gaze and my cheeks burn pink. “Tanned skin, dark hair, amber eyes. Yes,” he groans, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Me?” he answers then glances down at his watch “I’m going to be wearing a black oversized tee, wide leg jeans.”
I watch on, unsure what the hell is happening.
“Perfect, I need it here in ten minutes.” He glances at his watch again. “Do you need my card details?” The black AmEx flips between his fingers. “Perfect, thank you, Sylvie.” He cuts her off, taking a photo of his card and sending a message.
“What the hell just happened?” I whisper, walking towards the bed and sitting next to the pink dress.
“We’re getting you a dress.”
I blink at him as he slides his phone and card into his pocket. “But I have one.” My voice has no confidence as I let my eyes slowly gaze to the pink dress.
“You clearly didn’t like it.” One of his brows raises.
Sighing, I flop back on the bed, my hands in my hair as my eyes focus on the ceiling. The mattress dips between my legs and he is hovering over me. I freeze.
“Have I stressed you out?” he asks, eyes volleying between mine.
“A little.” I wince, sliding my hands over my eyes. “Can you just stop springing things on me?”
“Sorry.” His warm breath dances across my face and I ignore the way my skin puckers before splintering in goosebumps.
“It’s fine,” I mutter just as his fingers link around my wrist and prise my hands away.
“No.” He shakes his head, his floppy dark hair hanging. “It’s not.”
My breath catches at the back of my throat, and my heart is bolting in my chest.
“I think we need to get to know each other a bit more.” He hovers still; I blink up at him.
“Makes sense.” I can just about manage to get the words out on a whisper.
