Page 53 of Wait For It

Tell him how handsome he looks. Men need to hear it.

Let him order for you.

Ask for his opinion on what you should wear. He knows what looks best on you.

Laugh at his jokes, even if you don’t find them funny.

Let him lead the conversation. Don’t bore him with girl talk.

Hold a cigarette between your lips, making him lean in to light it.

Modesty is the best policy.

If he doesn’t notice you right away, stand in the corner and cry softly. Chances are, he’ll come over to find out what’s wrong.

My jaw went slack. What the hell was this—a submissive’s guide to mid-century time travel? The fog of lust dissipated, and I let the paper fall from my fingers into the trash, taking the remains of my appetite with it.

There was no costume party.

Ari studied my expression before patting the bed, but I shook my head and forced a smile, choking on my disappointment. “I can’t—I’ve, uh, I’ve got to return a call.”

I’d thought she was different; someone I’d be willing to break my rules for.

But what would I know?

Clearly, I was just the fool who kept finding myself in the same traps.

Chapter Eleven

Ariana

“Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones.”

-Charlotte Brontë,Jane Eyre

A manlike Killian expects to be wowed.

My nostrils flared as I added more soil to the clay pot on the table in front of me. The humidity dampened my skin, but I welcomed the fresh air. It was a nice change from the fluorescent lights and medicinal stench of the facility.

And pretty much everything that occurred last night.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the salty air, bathing my face in the warmth of the fall sunlight. But it wasn’t enough to wash away the memories of him.

Fainted?

Check.

Let a bitter old woman turn me into a sexed-up version of Lucy Ricardo?

Double check.

Temporarily lost my mind and made out with some facial stubble after being told I was sexy?

Check, check, and—maybe there was a vacancy at a rehab facility in another country.

I’d given up any hope of salvaging the evening when Georgia kindly informed me that my look was about seventy years out of style.

Mission failed.

---