Page 93 of They All Own Me

Two more hours. I can wait that long.

I smooth down the black silk of my gown, the fabric clinging to every curve. It's the dress I picked out on our shopping trip and Dom insisted I buy. It fits like a second skin, now that I'm actually eating food like I should, showing just enough cleavage to be enticing without looking desperate. The candlelight flickers across the formal dining room, casting shadows that make everything feel intimate and mysterious.

The front door opens and I hear their footsteps, followed by silence as they enter the dining room.

"Holy shit," Connor breathes out.

"You look absolutely stunning," Dom says, his eyes traveling from my stilettos up to my carefully styled hair.

Isaac lets out a low whistle. "If I'd known this was waiting at home, I'd have driven faster."

"I thought we could have a proper dinner," I say, gesturing to the spread on the table. "Since you three can't cook to save your lives."

"And risk getting sauce on that dress?" Connor asks, coming closer. "That would be criminal."

We settle around the table, the men still stealing glances at me between bites of pasta.

"So how did the job go?" I ask, taking a sip of wine.

"Messy," Dom says, twirling pasta around his fork. "The target wouldn't cooperate."

"Had to use the bolt cutters," Isaac adds casually. "Blood everywhere."

"You're talking about dismembering someone while eating my marinara sauce," I point out.

Connor grins. "The sauce is better than the blood splatter. Though it's hard to focus on either with you looking like that."

"The dress was expensive," I remind Dom. "You insisted."

"Best money I ever spent," he says, his voice low and heated.

"Though it's a bit distracting when we're trying to tell you about our day," Isaac adds, his accent thicker than usual.

"Maybe that was the point," I say with a wink, taking another deliberate bite of pasta.

"How are you feeling?" Dom asks, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. "And don't give me that 'I'm fine' bullshit you've been saying all week."

I twirl pasta around my fork, considering. "Good as new, actually. The bruises are almost gone, and I can move without wincing. Your security team's been hovering like mother hens though."

"Can you blame us?" Connor leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Look." I set down my fork. "I'm not made of glass. Yes, getting kidnapped sucked. Yes, getting roughed up wasn't fun.But I'm okay now. Better than okay." I gesture at my dress. "I mean, do I look like I'm suffering?"

"You look dangerous," Dom says with a smirk. "Which is exactly why we're checking."

"A little danger never hurt anyone," I say, trailing my finger around the rim of my wine glass. "In fact, sometimes it makes things more interesting."

Dom's eyes darken as he watches the movement. I deliberately let my hand slip, tipping the glass just enough to splash wine onto the black silk of my dress.

"Oh shit, would you look at that." I stand up slowly, making a show of examining the stain. "This won't do at all."

Without breaking eye contact, I reach behind me and slide down the zipper. The dress pools at my feet, revealing the black La Perla lingerie set I'd been saving for just this moment.

Connor's fork clatters against his plate. Issac mutters something in Gaelic that sounds distinctly profane. Dom's grip on his wine glass tightens until I think it might shatter.

"What a shame about the dress," I say, stepping out of the puddle of silk. "But I suppose we should move on to dessert anyway." I adjust one of my stockings, enjoying how their eyes track the movement. "I'll be upstairs in ten minutes. Don't be late."

I turn and walk toward the stairs, making sure to add an extra sway to my hips.

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