Page 23 of Betrayed

Katy let out a disappointed, “Okay,” as she walked away, tossing over her shoulder, “But, if he’s only a no one to you, can I get an introduction? Damn, woman! He is fine.”

Chapter 8

AT FIVE PAST NINE,she rushed through the front doors in a flurry, her nerves on edge. First, from a flat tire about thirty miles outside of Houston, and later, from a slowdown on I-10. When she’d come upon the reason for miles of backed-up traffic—rubberneckers gawking at a burned-out car as though they’d never seen such a sight before—she’d growled in frustration. That had made her already frazzled state worse. She had been tempted to pull an illegal U-turn and hightail it back home.

As it was, having stood him up for dinner, through no fault of her own, she might have to anyway. When it took roadside service over an hour to get there and put on her spare, she’d called the club and left a message with Mara, the sub that answered, explaining what had happened. She had assured her she would contact Master Arturo and inform him of her unavoidable delay. When stuck in traffic, she’d called again, this time having to leave a voicemail. She couldn’t be sure if anyone checked messages during club hours, but she was certain to face an irritated dominant when she eventually showed up.

She didn’t need another reason to throw up her hands and go home. What had she been thinking in coming anyway? Obviously, it hadn’t been with her head.

Now, as she stood in the entrance, trying to spot him through the throng of members that was the norm for a Saturday night at the club, she rubbed her sweaty palms down the sides of her new dress. It had arrived at the shop yesterday.

In sapphire blue, the long sleeve, boat-neck sheath appeared ultra-conservative at first glance. It wasn’t until she turned it to check the label that she noticed it was missing a back. There was a drape of material that would dip to the top of her ass cheeks, maybe lower, and a short mid-thigh hem. Except for the narrow swath of blue, she’d be naked from the rear.

Still, it was stunning, with pearl embellishments at the shoulders, neckline, and wrists. And, by Dior, it hadn’t come cheap.

The note tucked inside had been written in a flourishing script. Too bad it resembled the last prescription she’d gotten from her doctor. After trying to decode it for at least fifteen minutes, her best guess was:

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MARILEE,

I prefer color to ubiquitous black. This jewel tone will bring out the brilliance of your lovely eyes. Wear your hair up to show off not the dress but you in it. Shoes are at your discretion. They won’t be on long anyway. I look forward to seeing you on Saturday.

Avec beaucoup d’impatience...

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HE HAD SIGNED IT SIMPLYwith an A.

Katy, who had watched her unwrap the dress with barely contained glee, gushed over the beadwork. “I’ll want explicit details on Monday.”

“That last part,avec beaucoup d’impatience,” she repeated. “With much anticipation?”

“I believe so,” she replied with a waggle of her brows. She’d then added in a stage whisper as she went back to work, “Acquaintance, my big fat derriere.”

“Master Arturo is waiting for you at the bar.”

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