Page 107 of Bitter Confessions

The consultant gave a dismissive flick of her wrist. “You can still wear a statement piece with a high neckline. How about these light blue diamonds? This piece took nine months to source and match each individual stone. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“It is.” And she was sure the price tag that went with it was staggering. “But I think it’s a bit much. I mean...” She flashed her wedding ring. “Between this and the earrings, no one would say I’m lacking, and I’m going for understated elegance, not...”

The jewelry consultant gave her a steady look from under long lash extensions. “It’s impossible to be anything but elegant in diamonds. There’s no such thing as too many.”

She knew everyone would be decked out in their finest jewels, but she wasn’t trying to compete. She wanted to glide under the radar, not turn into a human disco ball. Besides, there she didn’t want to acquire more jewelry from Roth that she’d never use again. Unfortunately, the consultant wasn’t easily discouraged and wanted her to choose from a set of necklaces that looked like they belonged in a museum or on a royal, not her. Their polite bickering ended when she received a text from Roth.

You’re arguing with the jewelry consultant?

She read the message and caught the consultant pocketing her phone. Apparently, they’d been told to contact him if she resisted. If Roth wanted her to look gaudy, there was nothing she could do about it. It would draw more attention to them, but apparently, that’s what he was going for, so she would oblige like the obedient fucking wife she was.

She accepted the sensational set of blue diamonds and an outrageous cocktail ring the jewelry consultant insisted upon and was relieved when everyone filed out. Mo and Johan had been present during the whole debacle and didn’t say a word when she stalked to the kitchen to scarf down a salad while waiting for the dress to arrive. She hoped Daiyu had accidentally ruined it, and she wouldn’t be able to go.

It was just her luck that the dress arrived twenty minutes before Roth was supposed to pick her up.

She fluffed her hair, which had been styled in loose curls that brushed her shoulders. Her dramatic makeup—smoky eyes, a show-stopping red lip, and fake lashes that made her eyes pop—was utter perfection. She looked the part. Polished, glamorous. Under different circumstances, she would have been thrilled to attend such a prestigious event. Instead, her stomach was as tight as a fist, and she felt slightly ill.

She stepped back to take in the full effect and had to admit that if she’d planned this herself, she couldn’t have done a better job. The midnight-blue gown draped her impeccably. How Daiyu managed to flatter her figure so effortlessly she’d never know. It was convenient knowing a talented fashion designer who could whip up a dress for any occasion with so little warning. But it came at a cost. The card attached to the garment bag demanded she stop by the shop for a fitting ASAP.

On the hanger, the dress looked surprisingly demure, with the promised high neckline and long sleeves, but when it came to Daiyu, nothing was as it seemed. From the front, she was covered from neck to toe aside from a tasteful slit. It was perfection, but the back...

She did a half-turn and cringed at the open back and low cut of the gown. What the hell was Daiyu thinking? This was the Trentham Ball, not a Hollywood red-carpet event. She had no idea what the dress code was, but she was sure this was borderline indecent. She’d hoped to reenter society as a class act, not reinforce her bad reputation by wearing something shocking.

She glanced at the time and cursed as she reached for the stack of jewelry boxes. She put on the earrings first and despite her worry, paused to admire how it sparkled. In her opinion, this was more than enough, but Roth wanted her lit up like a beacon to find her in the crush. The contrast of the stunning light blue diamond necklace was more dramatic against the dark fabric than if the diamonds had lain against her bare skin.

She had to use her teeth to close the clasp of the spectacular emerald-cut bracelet and finished it off with the blinding three-layered cocktail ring that the consultant thought would be “fun.” Her mother’s diamond anklet was a nice touch, highlighting the leg that peeked out of the slit with every step she took. The only thing out of place was the ruby ring. She toyed with it but couldn’t bring herself to take it off. The ring had consoled her throughout the day, calming her when her emotions threatened to spiral out of control. She turned the ruby heart down, so all anyone would see was a thin gold band. It would go unnoticed with all the other pieces she was wearing. She posed in front of the mirror. From the front, she looked like a lady. She just wished the back matched. Fuck.

To convince herself it wasn’t that bad, she turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder as she raised her arms. The material shifted, revealing a flash of color that sent a bolt of terror through her. Her tattoo, a vine of flowers that flowed from her hip to ribs was showing. The placement had been deliberate, a rebellious declaration that she wouldn’t follow high society’s rules. The defiance and pride she thought she’d feel at this moment was drowned out by horror.

Her frazzled nerves threatened to snap as she ran through a mental inventory of the outfits in her closet. There was nothing remotely suitable for the Trentham Ball. If she tried to wear a shawl or jacket to cover the back, she’d look ridiculous.

She lunged for her makeup bag and dumped the contents onto the counter. Feverishly, she shook her foundation before squirting some onto her makeup brush and perching on the edge of the vanity, twisting awkwardly and tugging on the dress to get at the tattoo.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She toppled off the counter and skidded on her heels before she swung around to blast Roth and forgot what she was going to say. The sight of him in a tuxedo took her breath away. Vaguely, she noted his lapels and crisp pocket square were the same midnight satin as her gown. They were matching, which meant not just Daiyu but whoever had made his suit was given enough time to customize it for tonight. Even as anger speared through her, she had to admit, he had never looked more dashing. He’d worn a tux for their fake wedding at Tuxedo Park, but she’d been too engrossed in their drama to appreciate it. This was the sophisticated, debonair Roth she’d never allowed herself to imagine. The man who attended parties in jeans and sports jackets was gone. Roth had evolved into a different being—one she wouldn’t recognize if she hadn’t seen his evolution firsthand.

As his eyes coasted over her, she raised her chin. She planned to be so insufferably composed and polite that he might be convinced she’d switched personalities with Colette. Her plans were in the gutter thanks to this racy dress.

Roth stared at her painted red toes peeking out from the floor-length gown before his gaze began to rise. His eyes flicked to the bracelet on her left wrist, the blue diamond necklace, the earrings, and finally, her face. His stoic expression didn’t alter, but she sensed something about her appearance had rattled him. She wasn’t sure why, and right now, she didn’t care, because she was in the middle of a crisis.

“This dress is inappropriate! Daiyu sabotaged me.” She turned to show him her back and grimaced at the prolonged silence. She extended the makeup brush over her shoulder. “Daiyu’s always trying to push the boundaries, but she chose the wrong venue to make a statement. I think we can cover it.”

“Cover what?”

She craned her neck around to see if he was joking, but he looked genuinely confused. “My tattoo!”

“What about it?”

Her mouth sagged before she snapped, “I can’t go to the Trentham Ball showing a tattoo. I can’t go in this dress at all.” She bit her nails before remembering her fresh manicure. Shit. “I could change into something less formal, but I’d stick out like a sore thumb. I don’t know what to do.”

He snatched the makeup brush and tossed it onto the vanity, splattering the white marble counter with foundation before grabbing her wrist and towing her toward the door.

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

“I can’t go like this!”

She hauled back on her arm, but that didn’t stop him. Her heels slid along the floor as if she were on a pair of skis. She had an odd sense of déjà vu and remembered she’d tried this move in the Colorado hospital with similar results. Roth scooped up her coat and her clutch as he walked out of the master suite.

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