Page 58 of Exposed

But here I am, glass-is-half-empty Goldie with hot, broody King.

We’re quite a pair.

I don’t care what the occasion is—this dress was made for my body whether or not it was made for my psyche. Tonight, I need to feel like someone new. I decided I’m going to walk into The Pink like it’s mine.

Which half of it is.

King and I look good together. I can’t argue that. Gorgeous and formal—ready to take on money launderers and family drama. A dinner that will no doubt end in the fiery pits where the Devil himself lives.

I swallow my fears and pull down the vanity mirror to check my lipstick before flipping it closed and turning to him. “I’ll follow your lead, stick to your side, and put up with Dex being a jerk. I’ve hyped myself up. I even wore a dress that isn’t me hoping it will give me some good juju. Let’s do this before I chicken out.”

King doesn’t move. His stare drags down my body as slow and smooth as a drip of thick honey. It’s not the first time he’s done that tonight. But this time, his eyes bounce back up to my face with a frown marring his square jaw. “Did you always dress like this when you worked here?”

I look down and all I see are the swell of my breasts that are perfectly supported by the bodice. Now that I think about it, the top looks like something from a different century.

I look back at King. “Not really. I decided I needed to be a littleextra tonight. Step out of my shell and wear something I normally wouldn’t. You don’t like it?”

His exhale fans my skin like a caress. “You have every reason to be confident in that dress, Goldie. I’m going to have my work cut out for me tonight.”

King’s attention is pulled from me when the phone rings over the Bluetooth. He touches the screen and doesn’t bother with a customary greeting. “What?”

“Honest to God, King, this is more entertaining than the Carter Cartel, but you’re going to be late. Consider this your wake-up call to get your shit together and focus on drug dealers.”

“I’m focused, asshole,” King says, but never looks away from me.

“Right. If you say so.”

“We’re going in.” King doesn’t say goodbye and disconnects the call.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Micah. He’s giving me shit. Hang tight—I’ll get your door.”

“Wait.” I grab his forearm to stop him. “They can hear us?”

He nods. “We’re smarter than the bad guys. Everything said tonight will be recorded.”

I’ve just gotten comfortable being around King, but I had no idea anyone else was listening to us. That’s a whole new level for a wedding planner to adjust to.

King gets out of the car and opens my door. I give him my hand and he pulls me to my feet, never letting me go. As we walk up to the faded mammoth estate, I’ll never forget what it was like when I first started working here after I moved to Miami.

I thought The Pink was gorgeous and mysterious. I guess it would to anyone with an outside perspective. It’s why it’s one of the most sought-after venues in Miami. Who needs décor when it’s built in?

Now I find it ominous and daunting. I hate everything about it.

It’s Monday. The Pink is supposed to be closed today to give staff the day off and allow crews to come in and deep clean after the weekends’ events and gardeners to do their twice weekly manicuring.

But not tonight. There are a few cars parked in the employee lot and Dex’s electric blue Lamborghini is parked in his reserved spot closest to the entrance.

That’s so Dex, elevating himself above everyone. One more reason to hate him.

King holds my hand in his big one in a tight grip and doesn’t let go until we arrive at the entrance and he opens the door for me. He directs me to the dining room with his warm hand firmly placed so low on my back, his fingertips flirt with my bottom.

Acting the part.

He’s very good at it.

I need to up my game.

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