Nika
Staring at the mirror made it worse.
I don’t know why I listened to her. It hadn’t seemed that bad in the shop—the lighting in there was doing a lot of heavy lifting, clearly. The only things I’d loved were the Chinese-style collar, the two small buttons at my throat, and the length of it falling just above my ankles. Classic. Considered. The kind of dress that said I made an effort without trying too hard.
That was in the shop.
In my bedroom mirror, the gaping cutout at the centre of my chest was having a completely different conversation. And then there was the split—running from the hem all the way up to the top of my thigh, lined with black lace over something grey and sheer that in certain lights made me look like I’d forgotten the rest of the dress.
It was classy. It was genuinely, objectively classy.
But my breasts were making it a lot.
Calm down. There is nothing wrong with the dress, Bad Girl drawled.
So you can’t see my bare breasts in this mirror?I threw my hands up.
Not even a quarter of them. Not a nipple in sight. A pause.Anyway, this isn’t a dinner. Don’t get too comfortable.
What?
We are on a fact-finding mission.
That’s it, I’m cancelling.
She went quiet for a moment.
His wolf is the boss. An Alpha. I felt him.
I gasped.
I thought of the four Alpha books I’d read—purely in the name of research, obviously—and felt immediately stupid for being surprised. Of course he was. It was all there: the way he moved through a room like the room had been expecting him, the way he’d said you may begin in that conference room like he was doing me a favour by allowing the meeting to exist. The cologne. The collar. The tilt of his jaw.
The jaw was very alpha, now that I thought about it.
I want to see what kind of wolf he is, Bad Girl said.
“Why?” I whispered aloud.
A pause.
Assess the danger to our autonomy. I am only just discovering freedom. Her voice dropped, and for once there was no teasing in it.Do you want to be tied to a male and bossed around for life? Beholden to him. Always.
I stood with that for a moment.
I had spent two years making Finley’s meals and splitting bills in his favour and shrinking myself small enough to fit around someone else’s comfort. I had spent three years being the office furniture. I had spent twenty-eight years being whatever shape the room needed me to be.
Beholden to him for life didn’t sound great, no.
What would the sex be like?
She sighed.
Jeez, I was only joking.
No. You were half joking.
I mean, those books—
