Page 48

Last night, every bit of progress I had made in forcing distance between us was completely destroyed. In the middle of the night I slipped out of bed after she fell asleep, hoping we wouldn’t cross paths again until the gala.

This gala is our first public outing as a couple, and if I could have avoided attending it with her, I would have. Because every moment of close proximity undoes all the control I’ve been fighting to maintain.

Like right now. We’re sitting in the back of the car, and she’s far too close.

When she showed up at my office earlier, I was shocked. Of all the things I expected today, her walking through my door wasn’t one of them. Still, seeing her pleased me more than it should have. She was a sudden ray of light in an otherwise gray day.

I glance over at her. She’s looking out the window with quiet wonder, watching the city pass by.

“Are you hungry?” I ask. “We could grab lunch before shopping.”

“No. I had a late, heavy breakfast. I’m fine.”

Before I can say anything else, she adds quickly, “I’m really fine. Don’t start lecturing me about needing to eat.”

I groan under my breath. That was exactly what I was about to do. “You can’t blame me for wanting you to eat,” I tell her. “You’ve lost some weight, and I don’t like it.”

She looks at me, surprised. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

I frown. “Why would that be a good thing?”

She shrugs. “Men like skinny women.”

The words irritate me instantly. I reach out, catch her chin, and turn her face toward mine.

“Listen to me carefully. I don’t give a fuck what other men like. Whether they prefer skinny women is their business. I like you the way you are, with every single one of your curves, and I want you to keep them. Unless you’re losing weight for your health, not because of what any man, including me, might want.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“Yes.” A new anger rises in me. “Who told you that you were too curvy? Who made you feel like you needed to lose weight?”

“No one,” she says too quickly.

“We’ve had this conversation before. What did I tell you about lying to me?”

She arches a brow. “So you can go cut out their tongue again?”

“Maybe not their tongue this time,” I reply coldly. “Maybe I’ll just take their head.”

She blanches. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Anyone who makes my wife feel less than she is doesn’t deserve to keep breathing.”

She rolls her eyes, mutters something under her breath, and pulls her face from my grip, turning back toward the window. But not before I catch the faint flush rising on her cheeks.

Interesting. My wife has a darker side after all. I allow myself a small, private smile just as the car pulls up in front of the boutique.

I step out of the car and walk around to open her door. Taking her hand, I lead her into the designer boutique. My men called ahead, so the entire place has been cleared for us. It’s just the two of us and the staff.

They offer champagne the moment we step inside. I decline. Aurora accepts a glass and takes a small sip. She explains what she’s looking for, and the attendants begin bringing out options.

I sit back and watch her disappear into the fitting room, then emerge again and again in different dresses. I have to admit, this is one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time.

I had no idea how much I would enjoy this. Watching her try on dress after dress, turning for my opinion, is unexpectedly addictive. I make a quiet mental note to do this with her more often.

Finally she steps out in a deep red silk dress. It hugs her hips perfectly before flaring just enough. She looks stunning.

“This is the one,” I tell her without hesitation. “It’s perfect.”