Page 52 of The Wife Situation

I send her an eye-roll emoji, and she sends one right back. I lock my phone, knowing we can’t talk about this because there can be no receipts. But, damn, it’s tempting.

A bottle of perfume in a sparkly gold bottle grabs my attention. The glass is heavy in my hand, and I remove the lid, spraying it on my wrists and neck. It has a light hint of citrus,and the smell compliments my skin. I wonder if he picked this out too.

Once I finish my hair and makeup, I realize I don’t have any shoes. The trainers I sported won’t work.

I take one final look at myself, wondering if this is what Easton wants, then I push open the door and step into his bedroom, barefoot.

He’s dressed in his black suit, staring out the window with one hand in his pocket. I focus past him, noticing the cloudless sky.

“Wow,” I whisper, only sad that I won’t be here to witness the sunset.

The sound is enough to grab his attention, and he turns toward me. That’s when I notice the pair of heels in his other hand. A smile plays on his lips as his eyes slide up and down my body. I walk toward him, eliminating the space between us.

When I’m close, he drops to one knee and holds one of the high heels out for me. I point my toe and my foot slides into the black patent heel like a glass slipper.

“Louboutins,” I gasp, and he looks up at me with a smile.

I almost feel like Cinderella as he offers the other. Gently, he grabs the back of my heel, guiding me into it. Having this man bow before me to put on my shoes isn’t something I ever expected. It feels too intimate as I glance down at him on his knee for me.

“You don’t have to start acting yet.”

He zeroes in on me. “It’s called having manners, Alexis. I’m sorry you’ve not been around many men with them.”

Easton stands tall, like a statue. He’s every bit of six-two, but with these three-inch heels, I’m only five inches shorter than him. I’m aware of how close our mouths are.

“I got you something else.” His voice is husky.

I study his bottom lip, watching how the edge of his straight teeth grazes it.

He puts some space between us by walking over to the oak nightstand. He slides a velvety black box from the top drawer and moves back toward me.

He hands me the jewelry box. It’s heavy in my hand, and I hesitate to open it. When I do, I hand it back to him, but he doesn’t take it from me.

Inside is a black diamond pendant and matching earrings.

“Easton, Ican’taccept this.” I shake my head.

It’s too much.

“It’s a gift from me to you.”

It’s still in my hands as he leads me to the full-length mirror.

He reaches forward, removes the necklace from the box, and stands behind me. “It’s a pear-shaped black diamond pendant.”

His fingertips lightly brush against my collarbone as he places the necklace on me. Goosebumps coat my arms, and I try to push them away, keeping my breathing steady. The cold metal presses against my chest as he clasps it.

“You can’t wear a necklace without earrings. They go together,” he says, dropping them into my palm.

“Easton,” I whisper.

“Please,” he urges, but it’s more of a plea.

I can’t deny him, so I place them in my ears.

My hand magnetizes toward the pendant, and I glance at myself in the mirror, then back at him.

He’s still standing behind me. “The rose gold complements your skin tone,” he says.

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