“I think I might be.”
A phone vibrates atop the table among the palettes of blush and eyeshadow. It’s him, of course.
“Kingston,” I answer, giddy and breathless.
“Are you wearing it?”
“I am.”
“Good.” The word drips with satisfaction.
“It’s too much.”
“Show me.”
“What? Now?”
“Mhmm. Come out onto the balcony.”
21
KATHERINE
The tone of Kingston’s voice tells me he’s not joking.
There’s just enough firmness, enough ‘try me’, to make me weak-kneed and only too happy to do his bidding.
With my free hand, I clutch the silky robe’s lapels and cross to the balcony doorway.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Shon asks.
I shoot an “I have no idea” look over my shoulder.
A warm, sweetly scented breeze envelops me as I step out onto the balcony, my slippers slapping the floor. The coast is clear.
“What are you up to, King?” I say into my phone.
“Stay there. I’m coming up.” The call drops, and I peer over the stone rail.
On the terrace below, King pockets his phone, then folds his tuxedo jacket neatly and drapes itacross a bench. He gives the twisting vine a quick once-over before his eyes meet mine.
“You’re not going to?—”
It’s too late. He’s found a foothold along the thick trunk, and he’s climbing.
My insides go soft and fluttery. He makes it look so easy. But that’s what practice gets you: strength, confidence, and knowledge.
If you’d told me all those years ago when he shattered my dream that I’d be having my very ownPretty Womanmoment and Kingston Saint would be the one scaling a wall for me, I’d have laughed you out the front door. And then had a pint of ice cream while crying to Shon.
But here he is, making his way up to me. Not via a fire escape, sure, but he’s still very much the lead character. The kind of man authors wax poetic about, if I’m honest. Wealthier than sin but generous, frugal, handsome inside and out.
My fingers find the necklace around my throat.
“Kingston Saint—” My voice trails off as he reaches for the railing.
Eye to eye, his lips pull into a panty-melting grin. His gaze dips to the necklace, and my stomach somersaults.
“You’re stunning,” he says, voice soft but thick with emotion.
