“It was all over the Harrogate website,” I admitted, picking at my fingernails. “All the committees posted about their Christmas parties.”
Matt sighed then tucked two fingers under my chin to lift my face up.
“She trapped you and manipulated you. I would never have willingly agreed to go to her Christmas party. I barely speak to her or my father.”
“Oh,” I said in a small voice. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell you,” Matt said. “Hensley always thought I was being ungrateful by not having a better relationship with my parents after all they did for me, even though, of course, my sister was the one who actually raised us. My mom is determined to make people think she’s a great mother, even though eighty percent of her kids won’t even answer the phone when she calls.”
“We don’t have to go,” I assured him. “Honestly, it’s better not to go because I don’t have anything to wear. Olivia duct-taped my shoes and colored them with Sharpie, though I think she used the wrong one because it smeared everywhere. We were going to try spray paint tomorrow. But now we don’t have to. We can eat éclairs and watch movies!”
Matt cupped my face and kissed me softly. “Unfortunately, I need to meet someone there.”
“Who?”
“An investor,” he said.
I grimaced. “Guess we better hope the spray paint dries.”
“No need,” he said mildly. “I took the liberty of having a selection of dresses, shoes, and accessories ordered for you from a boutique. You can choose whatever you’d like.”
“I don’t need to. I have a dress that—wow!” I said as he led me over to the rack of clothes. “These are way nicer than my dresses.”
“My parents throw fancy parties,” Matt said wryly, “and we can’t have you looking out of place.”
I was afraid to even touch the dresses. I recognized the logo of an upscale boutique on Main Street. Their stuff was beautiful but pricey.
I was immediately drawn to a strapless red dress that screamed Christmas spirit. It was silk with a tight-fitting bodice, gold belt, and a handmade lace overlaid on the fifties-style short skirt that stopped above my knees.
“They brought over a selection of jewelry too.” Matt opened a mahogany box. “I particularly envisioned fucking you in this,” he said, holding up a modern gold necklace that would sit right at my collarbones and looked like it was made from hammered gold flakes.
I swallowed.
“Definitely different than my usual fare.”
“You mean like your sweater.”
“White elephant gift.”
His eyes were heavy-lidded.
“Do you like that sweater?”
My mouth was dry. He was looking at me like I was the last Christmas cookie on the platter.
“My friends told me to burn it.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Because of the dancing hippos?” He fingered the hem.
“They’re cute. They’re wearing hats.”
The backs of his fingers brushed my midriff. I shivered.
He smiled. “I hate this sweater.”
“I thought my tits looked pretty good in it.”
“I think they hate it, too, because they look like they’re going to jump out of it.” Then his hands were on my tits, and he was kissing me, hard and demanding.
