LAVENDER
“You look nice,”Daisy says, looking up from her sketchbook.
“Thanks, Daiz.” I smooth the fabric over my thighs as I examine myself in the mirror. “Do you think this dress says powerful but approachable?”
Sitting up, she runs her eyes over me again. “I think it’s pretty,” she answers carefully. “And it makes you look like you have really long legs.”
“I’ll take that,” I say, leaning down to invite a high five. As well as less than luscious lips, I was also under-blessed with legs. Not that I would’ve liked another leg. Just longer ones.
My dress is a Zimmerman dupe and is a whole vibe. It’s a silk-satin wrap dress in a color that could be either silver or pale pink, depending on the light. It has an asymmetric hem and blouson sleeves cinched tight at the wrists. It shimmers as I move, as well as exposing quite a bit of leg. The neckline is low and a little temperamental, thanks to how it ties at the waist, but I love it.
“Is Uncle Raif going with you?”
“No, doll. You’ve got him all to yourself tonight.” I bend to fasten the strap of my shoe. Raif knows I have an exhibition coming up. Daisy even mentioned Tod's exhibition. It’s not my fault if he hasn’t put two and two together.
I suppose it’s worked out quite well that he’s late this evening.
Or maybe not as fingers fold around my hips.
“Guess who?” I suck in a sharp breath, his touch heating my skin like wildfire.
“Leo?”
Daisy giggles, and my husband makes a noise of contempt.
“Not funny,” he grunts as I turn to greet him.
“Daisy disagrees.” I press my hand to his cheek as he leans down to kiss me. This has become our standard greeting. I’m not sure why. Maybe because this is how married couples are supposed to act. Honestly, I’ve never had anyone pay attention to me like he does. But I can’t be sucked in, no matter how good it feels.
It’s all just pretend. The house, the driver, the attention and care.
“I was laughing,” Daisy says, still laughing, “because Leo isn’t allowed upstairs.”
“Oh?” I quirk a brow. Possession shouldn’t be hot, though I know why it is.Because it feels good. Because I’ve never been on the receiving end.“Are you worried he might spoil the carpets?”
“Uncle Raif says if he sees him up here, he’ll throw him out of the window.”
“When did you hear me say that?”
“In the garden. You said it in Spanish,” she says, carrying on with her drawing.
“Your Spanish must be improving.”
“I think so. But don’t worry, I know you were only joking with him.”
“Hmm. Joking Uncle Raif,” I say, unable to bite back my grin.
“You look very beautiful,” says Raif, ignoring it. “Where are you off to this evening?”
“Back to work.”
His eyes roam over me appreciatively. I’m pleased I thought to use nipple covers.
“We’ve got an event. That exhibition, remember?”
His eyes darken and rake over me, both our memories slipping back to a sun-bleached terrace under an azure sky.
“Better put a sold sticker on every piece,” he’d said, sliding my ankles apart by slow increments.
