Page 22 of Bloody Lace

“Marrying someone I barely know?” She gives me a thin smile. “I guess maybe you’re right.”

As promised, I give her the contract to sign over dessert—a coconut creme brulee with fresh berries and glasses of port. Evelyn reads through it, a small line forming between her eyebrows as she studies the pages, and I feel a sudden, unexpected anxiety.

What if she changes her mind?I’ve already told Nicci that I’m marrying someone else. I told my father the engagement was done. And my mother’s ring is on her finger. She could give it back—but my stomach twists at the thought, and I have a feeling that it’s for more reasons than just the practical ones.

I like Evelyn Ashburn far too much for my own good. And as I watch her, her slim fingers picking up the pen to sign, her soft black hair falling in heavy waves into her face, brushing against her high cheekbones, desire sweeps through me like a tide.

Keeping my hands off of my wife is going to be no easy feat. Living in the same house with her and being unable to touch her, I’m beginning to realize, is going to be tantamount to torture. Especially when I’ve sentenced myself to celibacy, while our marriage is in effect.

That knowledge is only emphasized on Friday night, when I pick her up for the gala. She reluctantly gave me her address,and I gave her the credit card that I authorized for her, telling her to use it to get whatever she needed for the evening. And if I had any question as to whether or not it was worth it, it all vanishes the moment I see her step out of the old elevator into the lobby of her apartment building.

She looks like she’s stepped out of a fairytale, like Snow White come to life. She’s wearing a bright red dress made out of silk that cascades over her perfect body like it was made for her, with a slit up one side that reveals a length of perfect, creamy thigh. The long sleeves of the dress are off the shoulder, with a sharp v in the center that shows off the curving sides of her perfect cleavage, topped with the slashes of her collarbones. Her inky black hair drapes over her shoulders, in the thick waves that I’ve seen her wear it in every time I’ve met her, the front pulled back on one side with a sparkling golden clip. Gold thread earrings drape from her ears nearly down to her shoulders, and her lips are painted a brilliant red, the same color as her dress.

The instant I look at her mouth, I feel my cock twitch. Evelyn is off-limits, but that red lipstick is a siren call, my head instantly filled with thoughts of what those brightly painted lips would look like wrapped around me. The answering throb is almost painful, my cock swelling against my thigh, and I have to resist the urge to reach down and adjust it.

Evelyn has a coat thrown over one arm, and as she starts to slip it on, I take the opportunity for distraction. I quickly walk to her side, taking one edge of the coat and helping her slip it on. She raises an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips as she shrugs it the rest of the way on.

“Very gentlemanly of you,” she teases. “Are all organized criminals this polite?”

“Just me,” I assure her, looping my arm through hers as we walk towards the front door. “Besides, it could be a front. I might just be trying to charm you.”

“It won’t work.” She flashes me a smile as the driver opens the door for her, sliding into the warm interior of the town car. “I’m immune.”

“We’ll see.” I slide in next to her, and I catch a whiff of that orange-spiced perfume, the scent heating my blood. I want to bury my nose in her neck, run my hands through her hair and feel how soft she is against me, and it already feels as if it’s driving me insane. I curl my fingers against my palms, just to stop myself from reaching out and touching her leg.

“So this gala—it’s something you’re required to go to?” She looks at me curiously, and I shrug.

“We donate to this particular charity. It looks good to show up. Part of maintaining the illusion of respectability is rubbing elbows with the social elite, putting some of our money in places where it does good. It puts a sheen on all the things that we do that aren’t as—legal.”

“Do I want to know what those are?” Evelyn smooths her hands over her skirt, and I could swear I see her fingers trembling slightly.

“Do you?” I look at her, taking in the sight of her in the dim light of the car. She’s so beautiful it hurts, and not for the first time, I question the wisdom of what I’m doing. We’re both using each other—me to get out of an arrangement I don’t want and Evelyn to get her boutique back—but she doesn’t seem to be having the same difficulty resisting me that I am with her. It’s a blow to the ego, certainly, but it’s also clear that the next months—or years, even—will be much harder for one half of this arrangement than the other.

“Should I?” She fires back another question, turning to look at me. “Do I need to know?”

I shake my head. “I think most wives have some idea, particularly if they’re raised in this world. But you’d do just fine looking the other way, if that’s what you want. As long as you’reon my arm for these events, no one will suggest that you should have a stronger hand in the business of things.”

Evelyn nods, and I watch as she pulls her lower lip between her teeth, looking out of the window. Just that small movement makes desire pulse through me, and I take a deep, slow breath, trying to get control of my own reactions. I’ve never had this much difficulty before. I’ve never struggled to control myself, but Evelyn makes me feel as if my self-control is fraying at the edges.

“I think I’d rather not,” she says, finally. “At least not right now.”

I watch her stare out of the window, wondering what her reasoning is, and wondering if I should ask. Is she afraid of finding out something that she can’t stomach? Afraid of knowing something that might get her into trouble later? Or is it just that she simply doesn’t care, and wants to keep her distance from both me, and everything that my life entails?

I have a feeling that it’s the latter. It shouldn’t bother me, and yet, it does. She’s right to keep her distance, but with every moment I spend with her, I’m fighting the urge to want to bring her closer.

The car pulls up in front of the venue, and the driver comes around, opening the door. I slide out, offering Evelyn my hand, and I’m surprised when she takes it. She must see the look on my face, because she smirks, her head tipping back slightly as she looks up at me.

“Can’t risk falling on the ice.”

The sidewalkisslippery, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing she was taking my hand because she wants to, and not because she thinks she might need help in the sky-high heels she’s wearing. They make her nearly as tall as I am.

I glance over at her as we check our coats, unable to take my eyes off of her for more than a few moments. She looks slightlyuneasy, and I wonder how often she’s been to events like this. I met her at one, with her friend Dahlia, and she looked far more comfortable. But I imagine that had something to do with the company she was with.

“You don’t need to do much,” I murmur to her as we walk into the main room, the sound of string instruments and the scent of pine hitting me as we step inside. “Smile, say hello, maybe make some small talk. We’ll have a couple of drinks, eat, dance a little, and then head out. We don’t need to stay all night, just make an appearance.”

“And appear to be happily engaged. I know.” Evelyn nods, but I can see the nervousness in her face. She swallows hard, her throat tightening, and when I reach for her hand, threading it through the crook of my arm, I see her flinch slightly.

“I know what you’ve said about this in private,” I murmur to her. “But while there was no official engagement between myself and Nicci to break, it still needs to look like I and the woman I left her for are madly in love with each other. No one will believe we’re really together if you jump every time I touch you.”

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