Page 63 of Prized Possession

I rarely wear a full face of make-up, preferring to go without, since I have to wear it constantly when I’m with my mother, or people from high society.

My gaze flicks over and meets Marcus’ in our reflection, and I try to find the words to explain to him. “This is how I’m expected to look, but it’s not what I would choose.”

It’s a very simplistic version, but it’s the truth.

When Marcus looks back at me, he gives me a knowing smile, and his eyes are kind. He nods his head, like he understands. Then again, the suit he usually wears is probably part of the uniform he’s expected to present to the world, so maybe he does get it.

He looks at his watch for a second, then turns to face me. “Right, you have ten minutes. Get changed into something you want to wear, but make sure it’s still a skirt, and do your make-up however the hell you’d choose.

“Don’t wear what your parents would expect, just dress for yourself. It’s what I decided to do.” He gestures to his more laid back attire, and I can’t help but smile.

“It suits you.” Understatement of the fucking century.

“Thanks. Now, get a move on,” he states, turning me around and pushing me in the direction of my bedroom.

My mind is whirling, my thoughts spinning a million miles a minute as I second guess myself. I want to dress my own way, to look the way I prefer, but years of being trained by my parents is hard to overcome, particularly in ten bloody minutes.

So, I decided to do as Marcus suggested. I don’t think, I just feel. I wipe all the make-up off and start again, opting for my usual smokey eye with a silver glitter to accentuate my eyes.

I use a slightly heavier black liner than normal, thinking that if I’m going to rebel, I might as well go all the way, adding just a touch of mascara to complete the look.

I then use a darker shade of red to the one I wear in the club, as I want my lips to look plump without standing out too much. Once I’ve added a bit of blush and highlighter to emphasise my cheeks, I take a look in the mirror. The reflection I see shining back, smile and all, is the most familiar version of me I’ve seen in a while.

With only a few minutes left, I rush over to my closet. I didn’t bring much clothes with me, and so that’s making my decision harder. A lot of my casualstuff I rule out straight away—my mother would have a heart attack if I showed up for Sunday lunch in my black leggings or ripped jeans.

All of the skirts I have are Mother approved, which means they don’t qualify, but Marcus was adamant about me wearing one.

That’s when a dress on the end hanger catches my eyes. It’s a small white sundress with little yellow flowers on it, which sounds perfectly innocent, but the dress is far from sweet.

The thin spaghetti straps connect to a low sweetheart neckline that shows off a generous display of cleavage. The top of the dress itself has boning in it similar to that of a corset, with wire underneath the cups, which pushes my boobs up enough that I don’t need to wear a bra.

The boning stops at my waist, and the white fabric flares out from there, stopping mid-thigh. It’s long enough to cover everything, but shorter than my parents would approve of, and that makes me smile.

The white fabric is pale enough that it’s almost see-through, without actually showing off too much. Well, I have to opt for no bra and a pair of very small lace knickers with thin sides, so the fabric isn’t too visible, but it adds to the look, making me feel very sexy.

I opt for a pair of black ballet flats, as I don’t particularly enjoy wearing heels, and this is supposed to be an exercise in me picking what I like.

I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror, and I can’t help but smile. I’m also very glad I remembered to shave my legs yesterday, as there’s a lot of my creamy white skin on display right now. But I can’t deny that the way the dress clings to my curves makes me look shapely and…dare I say it, a little sexy.

I just know my mother isn’t going to approve, but I don’t care.

I walk out of the room, a genuine smile on my face as I hold my head up high. This time when Marcus catches a glimpse of me, I get the reaction I was hoping for all along.

At first his eyes widen comically as he takes all of me in, but then his gaze darkens with lust. I watch as his tongue darts out and sweeps along his lower lip, like he’s trying to taste me. Then, when I expect his lip to quirk up into that cocky smirk of his, he surprises me by giving me a genuine smile.

“Now you look like you,” he states, his voice gravelly and rough in a way that makes my stomach flip. “You look so fucking sexy, Mio.”

My lip tips up into a small smile, and I can feel my cheeks starting to heat up. “Thank you.”

“I’m really going to enjoy punishing you now,” he growls as he slowly begins walking towards me.

“Now?” I squeak, wondering what the hell he has planned. We are cutting it fine as it is, and there’s nothing my parents hate more than tardiness.

The devilish smirk on his face grows as he gets closer to me. I know better than to back away, even though everything in me is telling me to. He stops when he’s right in front of me, towering over me once again.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a light pink oval-shaped item that has a string attached to one side of it. He holds the piece of string, letting it hang between us, right in front of my face.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, and I shake my head.

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