Page 15 of Unwrapped

“Yeah, I’ve had that realization too.” She bumps against my shoulder. “Kind of hard for any man to compare when your best friend is your soul mate. But you have to make room for yourself this year; you have to let me do more so that you can find yourself again. You deserve that. We both deserve that.”

Her words hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and for a moment, I can’t speak around the lump in my throat. I blink back the sudden prickle of tears, swallowing hard before I manage to reply. “Thanks, Tess. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She squeezes my shoulders, her grin returning in full force. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. Now, come on—we have to figure out what we’re wearing tomorrow. You can’t just show up in your usual sweater-and-jeans combo. It’s time to break out the big guns.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep up with her sudden shift in tone. “Big guns?”

She hops to her feet, practically bounding over to my closet. “The little black dress I convinced you to buy last year. The one you swore you’d never wear because it was ‘too ‘sexy Well, tomorrow night, it’s making its debut.”

Dammit, I completely forgot I do have something to wear… technically.

I shake my head, but a small smile tugs at my lips. “Tessa, I don’t know… it’s just a party. And I’m not sure a little black dress is exactly me.”

She waves a dismissive hand, already rummaging through my closet. “Nonsense. You’ll look amazing. Besides, you said it yourself—this is a chance for us to network, right? We needto make a good impression. And that starts with showing up looking like a million bucks.”

I hesitate, watching her pull the dress from the back of the closet, holding it up with a triumphant grin. It’s sleek, elegant, the kind of thing I’d never have picked out for myself, but as I study it, I feel a flicker of curiosity. Maybe, stepping out of my comfort zone wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Okay,” I say finally, taking the dress from her hands, “but if I look ridiculous, I’m blaming you.”

Tessa just grins, giving me a playful salute. “Blame away. But trust me, Ivy, tomorrow night is going to be the start of something great. For the bakery, for us… and maybe even for you and Asher.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t quite squash the tiny thrill of hope that flutters in my chest. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this party is the beginning of something new and maybe wearing this dress is the first step I can take toward finding myself.

That night,I lie awake, staring at the shadows that the Christmas lights I’ve left on in my window cast on the ceiling. I think about Tessa’s words, about the possibility of a fresh start, and I try to picture what that would even look like. I’ve been so focused on work and building this business the last few years, I haven’t given myself the chance to stop for even a second to ask what I want.

Asher. That’s what I want.

That familiar flush creeps up my neck, my thighs beginning to rustle restlessly beneath the sheets. An aching need has settled between my thighs the last few days. I squeeze tighter, my hands wandering down my body to find release. My skin iswarm, hot even. My pulse quickens, my breath picking up as my fingers slip over my clit.

I’m so primed that within a minute or two I’m gasping, my whispered moans breaking the silence. I kick my blankets from my body, the soft breeze from my overhead fan a welcome reprieve.

I wonder if Asher is thinking about me—if he’s thought about me while stroking himself. The thought scares me as much as it excites me.

I think about the moments in his office—his smile, the way he’d seemed genuinely interested in our bakery plans, the way his eyes had lingered on mine a second longer than necessary. I want to believe that it meant something, that maybe he sees me differently now, but I can’t quite bring myself to hope too much.

What if I’m just reading into things that aren’t there? What if he’s only inviting us because he feels obligated or because he’s trying to impress Tessa? The doubts twist in my chest, making it hard to breathe. A sickening feeling rushes through me as I think that maybe he was into her all these years and that’s why his face conveyed his shock when I walked into his office.

It was disappointment, not excitement.

But then I remember the way he’d leaned in when he spoke to me, how he’d listened when I talked about our recipes with that intense focus that made me feel like I was the only person in the room. I can’t help but hope there’s a chance I’m not imagining things.

I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath as I try to calm my racing thoughts. Tessa’s right—I’ve faced plenty of challenges before, and I’ve always come out stronger. Tomorrow is just another step, another chance to show myself what I’m capable of. And maybe, if I’m lucky, it’ll be a chance to show Asher too.

As I finally drift off to sleep, I hold on to that thought, letting it warm me like the glow of the Christmas lights.

The next daypasses in a blur of last-minute baking and frantic preparation, with Tessa fussing over every detail of our outfits like it’s the damn Oscars and not just a corporate holiday party. I barely have time to breathe before I find myself standing in front of my bathroom mirror, smoothing out the dress that hugs my curves in a way that makes me feel both exposed and… powerful.

“Holy fucking shit!” Tessa gushes. “You look like a sexy Morticia Adams!”

The black silk lies gently across my breasts that are on prominent display in the corset top. I suck in another breath, my waist looking impossibly narrow with the magic of this dress. I turn to double-check my profile, doubt starting to creep in.

“I don’t know.” I turn in the mirror, looking at the way the sheen of the material accentuates my shape. “It feels like it’s too much.”

Tessa beams at me from the doorway, her own dress shimmering in the low light. “You look incredible, Ivy. Stop overthinking it. He’s not going to know what hit him.”

I take a deep breath, willing myself to believe her. “It’s just a party,” I remind myself, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m doing this for us. For the bakery.”

“Of course you are,” Tessa says with a sly grin, “and if a little holiday magic happens along the way, well, who’s going to complain?”

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