Page 152 of Cashmere Cruelty

Something rustles in my peripheral vision. I whirl around, still on alert, and I’m treated to a unique sight: April Flowers, emerging from a pile of tulle.

Her bloodshot eyes zero in on me. I don’t like how bright they get—like I’m a three-course meal on legs. Fucking Christ, I’m usually the predator here. So why do I feel like the tables are about to turn?

“Oh, good, you’re here!”

In seconds, she’s inches from me.

So much for keeping our distance.

“Care to explain what happened?” I demand, trying to ignore the warmth radiating off her body.

“Work,” April says simply. Which explains fuck-all, but I don’t get the chance to tell her that.

Because, suddenly, her hands are on me.

For a second, I’m too surprised to even react. April’s been daring before, but this? This is too far, even for her. I’m about to snap at her, demand to know exactly what the fuck she thinks she’s doing?—

And then she manhandles me to the center of the room.

“Off,” she commands, pulling at my jacket. “All of this—off.”

“Give me one good reason why I should do that,” I growl.

Part of me wants to comply. Aspecificpart of me, to be exact. Wants to flip April around and teach her exactly who’s in charge.

No,I snarl at myself.We can’t do that anymore.

But April just blinks. “How else are you gonna put this on?”

And then she holds up another jacket.

Oh.Right. Work. She mentioned that, didn’t she?

I force myself to relax. This is still inappropriate as hell—in any other context, I would’ve given her a piece of my mind—but one look at April’s face tells me she’s on a different planet right now.

“C’mon.” She yanks my jacket all the way off. “We don’t have all day.”

“It’s night,” I point out.

“No, it’s not.” She works the other jacket onto my shoulders. “Wait, is it?”

I jerk my head eloquently towards the window.

April pales. “Where’s the sun?”

I hang on the last thread of my patience. “As much as I’d love to explain basic astronomy to you?—”

“Shh.” She puts a finger to my lips. “Don’t breathe. Your chest’s gonna move.”

I’m honestly speechless. No one has ever shushed me.Me. Matvey fucking Groza.

But before I can teach April a lesson, her face breaks into a grin.“I knew it! Client’s got your same measurements.”

“You kept your notes from when we met?”

“No need,” April shrugs. “I remember yours by heart.”

I inhale sharply.By heart.All this time, and April’s had my fucking measurements floating around in her head? She memorized them?

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